Spotlight: Sweet Southern Bad Boy by Michele Summers

About the Book


When Katie McKnight gets lost location-scouting for her father’s TV studio, she stumbles upon the perfect setting for their angsty new teen vampire series—a remote barn house unfortunately occupied by a grouchy, disheveled, and incredibly sexy man who instantly mistakes her for the new nanny. Should Katie tell him the truth, or get her foot in the door?


Bestselling author Vance Kerner doesn’t just have writer’s block—he’s been run ragged ever since he was saddled with taking care of his brother’s three kids, an adopted kitten, and a runaway mutt. The last thing he needs is a teen drama defiling his property, but with fascinating and unconventional Katie underfoot charming the entire Kerner household, Vance is finding it harder and harder to say no.


Katie settled on the porch swing next to Vance Kerner, New York Times best-selling author. Yes, she knew who he was and what he wrote…thriller stories about war. But she didn’t feel compelled to fuel his already egoistical head with any more compliments.

He kept finding ways to make contact like when his fingers brushed hers as he reached for the wine glass. Katie knew his game. She’d been around enough slick Hollywood types to know when someone was pulling a fast one. And Vance Kerner was a slick as a whistle.

    “Cheers. To crazy days and lazy nights.” Vance clicked his glass against hers.

Katie sipped her wine. The smells of spring hugged the air. Different from California. Here the earthy pungency mixed with honeysuckle, and spring blossoms created a sweet aroma in the simple darkness.

“Better?” Vance’s voice mimicked the calm surroundings. But she knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of complacency. His sexy voice be damned. This was


“I’ll be better when you agree to let me use your house.” She met his gaze, catching him off guard.

The Prince of Darkness heaved a huge sigh and leaned back, rocking the swing. “Okay. Lay it on me.”

“Don’t sound so excited. I wouldn’t want you to burst anything.”

“Now there’s a phrase. Just what exactly are you referring to my bursting, oh, Kat of mine?”

Katie bristled. His familiarity and sly smile unsettled her. “Don’t call me Kat and I’m certainly not yours.” Her voice sounded prim and starchy to her own ears. Vance’s sly smile grew wider. She gulped her wine for courage. Now or never, Katie McKnight. Make your dad proud.

“Your house and property are the perfect location for my dad’s new miniseries. As soon as you give your permission, I can FedEx the contracts back to California and the crews can get started on transforming the place.”

Vance took a long, slow sip of his wine, never breaking eye contact. Katie was no mind reader, but she sensed his dark, narrowed look didn’t bode well. “And this is the show about teenage vampires on a killing spree?” His silky smooth voice got even silkier.

“Sorta. It’s about this teenage girl named Alexis who discovers she has unusual powers and she’s being chased by the Zombies of Squirrel Hollow”—she gestured to the front yard—“your lawn would make the perfect Squirrel Hollow.” Vance continued to study her as she spoke, giving nothing away. “Uh, we would need access to the house and grounds to create their spooky world.” Katie glanced at the dark oaks lining the driveway. “They might have to cut down a tree or two because we need room for trailers, but they’ll replant as soon as they’re done filming.” She pointed to the closed front door with the bunny knocker. “And we’ll have to paint the door blood red and change the knocker…things like that, but again, all that will be fixed when we finish.”

For a solid minute, Vance didn’t move a muscle. Katie began to fidget, waiting for his reaction. The longer he took, the more nervous she became.

Finally, he placed his empty wine glass down. “Aw, fuck no.”

Okay, not exactly what she wanted to hear. “That’s just a quick overview. The rest is spelled out in the contract along with how much you’ll be paid for leasing your property.” Vance pushed his long fingers through his thick, wild hair. “Um, it’s really a lot of money. McKnight Studios pays well on location,” she said, hoping to sweeten the pot and remove the appalled look from his chiseled features.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No freakin’ way anyone is cutting down one-hundred-year-old oak trees on my property.” His voice was gruff and irritated.

Obviously a deal breaker. “Well, there’s certainly room for negotiations. Why don’t you have your attorney look it over and you can discuss it with the McKnight’s team.” Katie was scrambling for ways to make this deal appeal to Vance.

“Kat, you appear to be a nice, sweet girl and I’d love to do this for you because, well, you’ve been great and the kids seem to love you, but holy shit…I can’t wrap my head around a team of movie makers tromping all over my grounds, cutting down trees and painting my door blood red.”

Katie jumped up from the swing and paced the length of the porch. “I’m sure if you specify no trees are to be touched, they won’t touch them.” She really had no idea. She was grasping at straws.

Vance rose slowly as if his back ached. “Look, Katie, here’s the thing. I’ve got four weeks to finish three quarters of my next manuscripts to meet my deadline or my agent, not to mention, my editor are going to rip me a new one. And I’ve got three monkeys posing as kids sleeping upstairs who will be awake”—he glanced at his black watch—“in less than nine hours, which means my day will careen straight to hell from there. Just like every day for the last five weeks. In other words, the creek’s rising and I’m up to my ass in alligators. I don’t have time to babysit kids and a movie crew at the same time.”

“What will it take for you to agree?” Katie blurted without thinking.

Sparks shone in Vance’s inky dark eyes and he shoved his fisted hands in his jean pockets. “Aw, Kat. You don’t want to know what it will take. And quite frankly, once I started, I’m not sure I’d be able to stop…with you,” he rumbled low.

Find it online: Amazon | Barnes and Noble

About the Author

MICHELE SUMMERS writes about small-town life with a Southern flair, and has her own interior design business in Raleigh, North Carolina, and Miami, Florida. Both professions feed her creative appetite and provide a daily dose of humor.

Enter to win a copy of Sweet Southern Bad Boy

Name *
Address *