Good Girl Coralie Cabot decides to rent this bad boy and bring a little excitement into her boring, conventional life, but she has no idea just how intoxicating it could be to meet someone that dedicated to making her lascivious dreams come true.
She thinks she's hiring him by the hour. He's about to change her life.
“This is Devlin.”
I thought I was prepared to hear his voice, but I was mistaken. It was deep and rich and textured, like pure velvet. Its timbre reverberated across my senses, sending a shiver right to my toes. I could still picture his piercing gaze as my eyelids fluttered closed. I cleared my throat. My mouth was suddenly dry.
“Hello, Devlin,” I greeted, almost haltingly. “This is Coralie Cabot.”
His voice softened. I could almost hear his smile. “Ms. Cabot. Thank you for calling me back. I had actually given up hope you would.”
I glanced at the clock. It was after eight in the evening, and he had sent his email at roughly eight o’clock that morning.
I thought about the dress and Lucy’s hair. Apparently it takes time to burn bridges. “Sorry about that. I was busy finalizing some of the details for the party.”
“Of course,” he replied. “So tell me some details about this party.”
“It’s a fundraising benefit,” I started. “We’re raising money for children affected by neurological disorders, to help their families pay for the cost of care, and provide therapy and support. Friends of the family are hosting at my family home in Bel Air.”
“Sounds wonderful,” he said. “I assume it’s black tie.”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Do you have a dress already?”
I blinked in confusion. It seemed such an odd question. “I… well… I’m torn between two,” I finally admitted. And it was true. I really was. As much as I liked the one that Lucy found for me, I didn’t know if I could show up at the party in a dress that didn’t come from Cabot’s. It was a big deal.
“I can make that choice a little easier for you. What’s your size?”
I nearly choked on my saliva. Was this an insidious way to figure out what kind of heavy lifting he’d have to do on the date? “Depends on the store,” I finally replied.
“What are your measurements, then?” he persisted. It immediately set off warning bells. All this time I had pretended that his desire for me was a given, simply because he was getting paid to bring my fantasy to life. It never occurred to me that he would actually have to pretend to be interested. That took a little wind out of my sails.
I cleared my throat, suddenly very self-conscious. “It’s, um, 46/34/44,” I finally managed, feeling, for the first time in my life, embarrassed to answer the question.
That he hesitated didn’t help matters at all. “So, size 14, then?”
I cleared my throat again. “Like I said, it depends on the store and the designer. Thanks to…,” I swallowed hard, “thanks to my bust size, it can fluctuate between a 14 and a 16, possibly an 18 if they even keep the size in stock.”
I hadn't meant for it to sound as bitter as it did. Fortunately Devlin didn't miss a beat. “Did you have a particular color scheme in mind? Did you want classic or modern?”
“Whatever makes me look beautiful,” I answered in a near squeak. I almost–almost–wanted to add, “If such a magic dress exists,” but I stopped myself. Why I felt I had to throw myself on the grenade of his rejection was a mystery to me, as if making fun of myself first would make it hurt less if he did it. I hadn’t pulled such a juvenile stunt since I was in high school, when I tried to be the quirky, funny sidekick to Lucy’s pretty Queen Bee. And why was I trying to impress him anyway? He was the one who needed the job.
He chuckled then, which took me by surprise, as if he could read my thoughts. “All women are beautiful if you just know where to look.”
It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “That has to make your job a little easier.”
“Indeed,” he replied. “I tell you what. Send me photos of yourself in the outfits you’ve already purchased.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a few ideas how to make you feel beautiful.”
I couldn’t help but notice he said ‘feel’ instead of ‘look.’ There was probably a very good reason for that. “You don’t even know what I look like,” I pointed out.
“Hence the photos,” he replied, humor lacing his tone.
“You know, I’m not even really convinced that I can go through with this,” I started. He was quick to cut me off.
“Of course you can. Now send me your photos, Coralie.”
I gulped hard. It was unusual to hear anyone call me that name, aside from my father. And there was nothing at all fatherly about the commanding tone of his voice, which flipped the script immediately. No longer was I the one hiring someone who needed a job. I was being commanded, taken in hand, by a man who knew damn well how to do that very thing. I found myself stammering in response. “I’ll have to go change.”
“Fine. You have ten minutes. Then call me back.”
“Okay,” I found myself replying, though I didn’t know why. This was pure craziness, which was exactly what I said to Lucy when she entered the room. She handed me a frothy, frozen pina colada with a smile.
“Here's to getting a little crazy.”
Author Ginger Voight (that's me) brings all her amazing readers (that's you) another epic saga starring an flawed, mysterious Book Boyfriend named DEVLIN MASTERS.
Here, at long last is the cover of my new book MASTERS FOR HIRE, Book 1 in the Masters series.
It's only a taste of what kind of things Devlin will do to you once you get cozy with him in between the (book) covers. Needless to say this read is intended for readers over 18. And for a LIMITED TIME ONLY, you can pre-order MASTERS FOR HIRE for only $0.99 before it goes back up to its regular price of $2.99.
Don't miss out on Devlin!! Add MASTERS FOR HIRE to your TBR list NOW.
If you're a blogger who wants to participate in the book launch, either with a release day blast or a review, please use the sign-up sheet here.
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