(An Accidentally in Love Story, #1)
Publication date: March 5th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
All is fair in love and texting…
When Aimee Tompkins loaded up her old catering van and pulled into Manhattan, she had her sights set on becoming one of the best (and most lucrative) caterers to ever serve crudités and creampuffs in the Big Apple. But after a year of leaving fliers all over town, she’s not only running out of money, she’s running low on hope. So when she lands a gig at a big architecture firm, Aimee’s certain her luck is about to change.
Noel Fitzwilliam is pitching the most important project of his life—the type architects dream of. Everything has to go right, so when he finds the new caterer naked in his office bathroom right before the meeting, he’s torn between thrilled and extremely irritated. He doesn’t have time for romance, no matter how incredible she looks without her clothes on.
A mix-up means Aimee is accidentally given his cell number instead of his assistant’s. So when she starts texting Noel about how much she hates him, he decides to have a little fun with her. The last thing he expects is for her to turn his world upside-down. But that’s exactly what happens as the pair start sharing their deepest secrets and their greatest fears, and Noel discovers he can share so much more over the phone than he can in person. But what will happen when she finds out who he really is?
It’s a case of opposites attract, even when they repel…
Excerpt
Walking through the clear glass doors of Fitzwilliam and Associates is very impressive. Sleek furniture primarily in black leather and chrome adorn the lobby and the walls are painted a grey so light it almost looks silver. The paintings on the walls are modern splashes of color that probably cost more than I make in a year, not that that’s much.
I look out the window at the Brooklyn Bridge and am momentarily paralyzed as a wall of amazement hits me. This is the big time, Aimée, don’t screw it up.
A tall brunette in a pencil skirt so tight it looks painted on, pulls me out of my trance by asking, “Who smells?”
I’m about to covertly sniff my armpit, when she clarifies, “Who dared to where perfume today?”
Byron looks at her, and says, “Cindy, that’s my bad. I forgot to tell Aimée here that WL Senior is severely allergic to scents.” Turning to me, he says, “Do you have anything else you can wear? After we get you washed up that is.”
“I...I don’t,” I stutter, horrified to have made such a bad first impression. I always used to keep extra clothes in my catering van upstate, but I haven’t exactly had a run on business since I’ve been here.
“Oh, for God sakes,” Cindy sneers. “I have an extra pair of slacks in my office if you can find her a shirt.”
I’m pretty sure Cindy is at least six inches taller than I am and probably two sizes smaller. I’m guessing I couldn’t decompose to her size until I’d been dead for a year. There is no way I can wear her pants.
“Go get them,” Byron tells her. “Meet me in the boss’s office. She can shower in there.”
I’m suddenly whisked away to some inner sanctum while leaving Teisha in charge of the food. I could die of mortification.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam will be out for the next hour, so you can use his private bathroom to see to things.” He waves his hand in front of me like he’s either casting a spell or trying to read my aura. Then he hurries out of the room.
The office is so elegant and so unlike the lobby, I take a minute to walk around and look at the bookshelf and the desk. I even sit on a loveseat across from the desk for about thirty seconds. Everything looks antique and awfully expensive. I’m half tempted to lay down and roll on the Oriental rug to see if it’s as soft as it looks.
I cannot imagine being this important. I only hope the short bald man—because the boss is always short and bald for some reason—who calls this office his own, appreciates how good he has it.
When I open the door to the bathroom, I let out an audible gasp. The shower is as big as my entire bathroom and it looks out onto the East River. Getting naked in here is going to make me feel like I’m on display for the world to see.
I hurriedly pick up my phone and text Teisha.
Me: Are you okay?
Teisha: I’ve got everything under control. Don’t worry about a thing.
Me: Are you wearing any perfume?
Teisha: Nope.
Me: Okay, I’ll be out as soon as I can. You would not believe the office I’m in!
Teisha: Pretty flashy, huh?
Me: You could say that.
I slowly start to take my clothes off while hoping that Byron finds a fat woman’s pants for me to put on. Once I’m in the shower, I scrub myself as quickly as I can. The soap is an old-fashioned bar of Ivory and I run it all over my body before giving myself a good rinse.
I’m about to step out of the shower when I hear. “For the love of God, Byron, leave me alone. I’m in a hurry.”
The voice is right outside the bathroom door! Holy crap, did I lock the door? I step out of the shower in hopes of making sure no one can get in. As soon as my wet foot hits the shiny marble floor I slip and slide across the room like I’m starring in Frozen on Ice. Let it Go!!!
As luck would have it, that’s the exact moment the door opens, and I fall into the arms of the most devastatingly handsome man it has ever been my pleasure to lay eyes on— thick dark hair that looks like not even one strand would dare to stray from where he wants it, moss-green eyes with flecks of gold and coffee-colored rims, and—oh, wow—a chiseled manly man jawline peppered with two-day stubble. I gawk up at him with sheer disbelief. I’m so blinded by his gorgeousness; I’m temporarily rendered mute.
With his arms around me, he calls over his shoulder, “Byron, you left one of your desperate strays in my en suite.”
Two things. One, his British accent is so dreamy, it almost makes me want to swoon even though he just tossed out one of the worst insults anyone has thrown my way. And two, he smells so damn good, I want to rub myself all over his neck. Then of course there’s the other thing. I’m naked.
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