Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Imagine my surprise when my new neighbor turns out to be one of Scotland’s most famous (and hottest) professional footballers, Callan Keen. I’m even more shocked to discover that the brooding player is still holding a grudge for something that happened (or didn’t happen) between us years ago.
Too busy trying to take my social media management company to the next level, I don’t have time for this gorgeous blast from the past. Or at least I shouldn’t. Yet whenever I see him, I can’t help but engage in a battle of wits with the grump upstairs.
When a huge client opportunity arises, circumstances force me to enlist Callan’s help. I require a fake date and Callan needs me to facilitate a meeting with my dad to further his own business interests.
The deal between us should be simple. Except, of course, the blazing chemistry we’ve shared since the moment we met. We can’t deny it, we can’t control it, and soon we’re agreeing to six weeks of no-strings-attached, mind-blowing, steamy shenanigans.
I told myself I was too smart to catch feelings. But when Callan finally finds out the truth about our past, he becomes the guy I used to know. And that man is way too easy to fall for.
The problem is that Callan has vowed to never let another person close enough to break his heart again.
It just might prove impossible to show my stubborn Scotsman I’m worth the risk, especially when old wounds are re-opened and threaten to wreck any chance of a future together.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
BETH
Edinburgh, Scotland
Iwas hungry, I was sweaty, I was late, and there were three incredibly sexy men blocking my way up to my flat with the ugliest sofa I’d ever seen.
“If you say pivot one more time, I might have to end you, mate,” the one with his back to me huffed. He had broad shoulders, a tapered waist, tattoos all down one arm, and a man bun.
“I’m just trying to ease the tension with some humor,” defended the one stuck in the middle with his back squashed between the wall and the sofa. He had a North American accent.
With a million tasks running through my mind, I hadn’t really registered the shiny black Land Rover I’d parked next to in the private car park on Loverose Lane. I’d also failed to fully process the moving truck partially blocking the entrance to my apartment building as I read a text from Cara about rehiring an influencer for one of our author clients.
Instead, I’d replied to her, then swiped my key card over the machine mounted on the wall beside the large, glass entrance doors, and they unlocked. One of the reasons my parents were more than happy to help me with the deposit on this flat was because of the security here. Key card access only, CCTV on the entrance, not to mention they were a mere ten-minute walk from my place. My parents still lived in the townhouse I’d grown up in on Dublin Street.
The swanky new apartment complex situated on the corner of Loverose Lane and Dundas Street had a lift on the ground floor. But I’d just come from the gym and wanted to keep my blood pumping, so I’d decided to take the stairs. My one-bed flat (because one bed was all I could afford in the heart of Edinburgh city) was four flights up. As I climbed, that’s when I heard the loud voices echoing down the stairwell. Men’s voices. Arguing.
As I turned the corner, I discovered why.
Three men were currently trapped on the section between the first and second floors with a three-seater navy and yellow floral sofa between them.
A glance at my phone told me I had exactly an hour to shower and eat before I was expected at the Leith food bank where I volunteered every Friday afternoon. We relied on donations of food from the public so we could distribute groceries to those who really needed it. Lynda, the manager, also relied on her volunteers to keep to their scheduled hours.
“Maybe if we lift it over our heads, we can get it around this corner.”
My annoyed gaze drifted to the man who stood at the other end of the sofa facing me. Light pouring in through the long rectangular window behind him lit his dark hair in a halo, and it took me a second to make out his features.
I felt a little jump in my chest as recognition scored through me.
Callan Keen.
Captain and top midfielder for Caledonia United, Edinburgh’s Scottish Professional Football League team that was giving the most successful teams, Dalmarnock Thistle and Kingston United, a run for their money. Now, how did a non-football fan like me know who Callan Keen was?
It wasn’t because he was too sexy for his own good and plastered over more ads in Scotland than one footballer had the right to be. Or that he’d played for Scotland in the world tournament thingie last year.
No.
It was because we were old acquaintances.
He was the son of the man who betrayed my father.
And he was in my apartment building, moving an ugly sofa precariously up my stairwell.
Horror filled me.
The penthouse apartment above my flat had been up for sale for two weeks when it sold last month.
Either Callan had bought that flat or one of the other two men with him had, and I would bet my beloved all-electric MINI Cooper that they were footballers too.
Which meant a Pro League footballer was moving into my building.
Great.
Irritated beyond measure at the thought of the parties and shenanigans that were about to ensue in the one place I could relax, I crossed my arms over my chest. “And why, oh why, are you carrying that monstrosity of a sofa up a stairwell when we have a generous-sized lift in this building?”
“Fuck!” Man Bun’s hands slipped on the sofa as he startled and whipped his head around. The other two yelled as they reached out to steady the piece of furniture. Man Bun grappled for hold as he craned his neck to study me. He was almost as attractive as Callan, with his warm, dark brown eyes and tan skin. Said eyes roamed me, and his mouth quirked into a flirty smile. “Hi there.”
“Well?” I threw my hands up in exasperation as my gaze zeroed past him and onto Callan.