A sassy new romance from a USA Today Bestselling Author…
After moving cross-country yet again, Hannah Roberts wants to put down roots in Colorado. She’s sunk her life savings into a share of Bloom Yoga Studio, but the studio is losing money, and fast. The building is undergoing a messy, noisy renovation–and the hot carpenter in charge is distracting her yoga students in more ways than one. If Hannah can’t talk the hard-bodied builder out of his power tools, she might as well kiss her dreams goodbye.
When Jake Marshall returned from Afghanistan, he brought back an injured knee and a lot of bad memories. He just wants to finish this renovation, rehab his knee, and head for Alaska to leave it all behind. A sexy yoga teacher doesn’t fit into his plans. But when Hannah offers him private sessions in exchange for quiet hours—he’s all in. He doesn’t expect that while she’s healing his knee, Hannah will poke at all his hidden wounds…and come dangerously close to breaking open his heart.
The drilling/banging/death sound started, and I threw my hands out to the side. “Can you hear how loud that is?”
He listened for a moment, his gaze focused upward as if he too feared the ceiling was going to fall in. Then he turned back to me. His gaze dipped down to my chest, then slowly lifted to my eyes. “That machine is obnoxious. But we only need it today. Tomorrow, tops.”
I crossed my arms. My shirt wasn’t low-cut, but it was tight and my nipples were hard. “Well, it needs to stop. We can’t run a yoga studio like this.”
He raised his brows. “You want me to just stop? Just abandon the renovation?”
“How can you expect any business to stay open with such ear-splitting noise? Especially a yoga studio?”
He spread his hands wide, as if to say, What can I do? “It’s a construction zone.”
“My point exactly.”
“Construction is loud.”
“Class attendance has been down all week.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I can’t be the first person to complain.”
His gaze snapped down to my chest again, then back up to my face. He took a step forward. “We’re under a tight deadline, Hannah. You need to be patient. We’ll be out of your hair soon.”
The drilling started again. The whole building shook, and some more dust fell from the ceiling.
I poked Jake in his chest. His thick, hard chest. “You’re supposed to take care of your tenants, not run them out of business.”
“And you…” He took another step forward, forcing me to either hold my ground and stand belly to belly, chest to chest with him, or take a step back. I took a step back. “Could ask nicely. I have yet to hear a please.”
Boom. Boom. Boom. My heart hammered louder than the machine upstairs. Jake was so tall and thick and gorgeous. He was inches away, and I could feel the heat coming off him. He smelled of wood shavings and some kind of man spice. The scent went right to my head.
I’d never wanted a man as badly as I wanted him.
I met his gaze. I was shaking. “Please stop being a jerk, please. There, I said it twice.”
He shook his head. His eyes were hot as they raked down me. “You’ve got quite the sass for a yoga teacher.”
I tossed my hair back over my shoulder. But it was in a ponytail and didn’t have the desired effect. “And you have such a fine way with customer service.”
The sound of our heavy breaths filled the small space between us.
His jaw worked. He reached out both hands and rested them on the counter behind me. Framing me in.
He had me trapped. I tried to muster outrage I didn’t feel. Really, my panties were getting wet.
I took a deep breath. Not helping. God, his sexy scent… I wanted to bury my nose in his neck. Bite his shoulder. I couldn’t think. I fisted my hands to keep from reaching out and touching him.
Fight! Fight! Fight! yelled my brain.
Yes! Touch him! my body pleaded.
“We need to find a compromise that works for both our businesses.” My voice shook. “Maybe quiet hours.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” He growled. “But not right now.”
“Now would be a fine time—”
“I can’t think clearly when you’re dressed like this.”
Something heavy and enticing flushed through me. “What?”
“You’re just tight, everywhere.” He raked his eyes over me again. “What are you even wearing?”
I glanced down. My nipples were poking through the thin fabric of my shirt. And I was no longer cold, not with the heat pouring off him. “Yoga clothes.”
He didn’t say anything. His eyes were dark, hooded, and focused on my chest.
I looked down again. My shirt said: You had me at shavasana.
“You don’t like shavasana?” I breathed.
“I don’t know what the hell shavasana is.” His voice was like gravel. “I just mean—aw, to hell with it.” He leaned down and kissed me.
Soft lips, hot tongue, hard chest. I was a starved woman. I couldn’t get enough.
He wrapped one hand around my shoulders and another around my waist. Then he hauled me up against him. The tips of my toes grazed the floor. His scruff scraped my skin, and I pressed against his steely strength and something broke inside me. More. I needed more. I wrapped my fingers around his thick biceps and bit his lower lip.
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About the Author
Leigh LaValle is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and historical romance. She lives in Montana with her family. When she is not chasing kids, bemoaning the laundry, or carving out time to do yoga, she is sneaking away to write. She would rather read than sleep, and cannot imagine a better job than writing romance. She is also a certified yoga teacher, but is not nearly as flexible as she once was.
Awards and Nominations
RT Book Reviews 4 stars…..TOP PICK Night Owl Reviews….Nominated BEST HISTORICAL The Romance Reviews….Nominated for Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award…Nominated Best Historical Romancing Rakes