romance

Can’t Help Falling in Love Excerpt: The Pool

/ Cheryl Harper / Leave a comment

She hadn’t slept well. First she’d had a nightmare about a homeless Misty who wandered the busy Memphis streets because her hotel was gone. And then when she’d started awake to see that it was only midnight, she’d fought the urge to sneak out to the lobby to make sure Misty was safe and sound. Telling herself it was crazy to worry about a dog that wasn’t even hers, she forced herself to stretch out and think of something else.

After she’d finished the hardcover she’d carried on the plane, she put it and her drugstore reading glasses on the nightstand. Still too restless to sleep, she had plenty of time left to think about Misty. And Tony. Misty would never be homeless. Willodean would take her . . . somewhere. And Tony would land on his feet in another job. Of course he would. Unless he was related to Willodean Jackson somehow. Maybe he was manager here because he couldn’t get a job anywhere else. Maybe he was on parole and lucky to have family to call on, a situation that she was just about to put an end to, possibly plunging him into despair and God knew what else and dooming him to roaming the streets instead of Misty.

She’d slapped her own forehead then and she repeated it now by the pool. She really shouldn’t read in bed. Clearly it made her imagination run wild. He was a grown man. He’d find another job.

Randa was the one with a potentially bigger problem. Her runaway brain would have her shooting herself in the acquisition foot if she didn’t watch it.

All because of a dog. Or a man she didn’t even know and had no business worrying over. She had plenty on her own plate to worry about.

“Was that an a-ha moment or a mosquito?”

Randa took a deep breath and opened her eyes to see Tony standing next to the lounger.

Then she forgot every worry she’d ever had and most of everything she knew.

Because if Tony lost his job running the Rock’n’Rolla Hotel, he had a future in underwear modeling. His swim trunks rode low on his hips and even though she’d seen swimsuits that showed a whole lot more of what a man was working with, she’d never seen another man with a body like his.

In her experience, handsome men were either gym rats or couch potatoes. She’d seen a lot of manscaping in her time too: hairless chests, spray tans, and even hair plugs once upon a time.

Out of the Hawaiian shirt and khakis, Tony was perfectly imperfect. His olive skin was lightly tan. Black ink swirled up his left arm. This close she could make out the words “Semper Fi” and then what looked like names, all in a simple script. She wanted to touch his tattoo, to trace her fingers up his arm. She wanted to feel his skin. Black curls covered his pecs and trickled to a thin line down his abdomen to disappear into . . .

God, help me. Randa felt the need to fan her face or stick her tongue out to pant. August in Memphis might camouflage her reaction, but she hadn’t known heat until Tony stood in front of her with no shirt on.

Can’t Help Falling in Love Excerpt: Chapter 1

/ Cheryl Harper / Leave a comment

Randa stopped in front of the doors but they automatically swung open. The music notes on the doors were probably a nod to the gates of Graceland. They weren’t so bad. She decided to take a picture and think about it before she made a recommendation to replace them. But the air conditioning that wafted out was as beautiful and welcome as the smell of fresh-baked cookies. If she were a cartoon character, she would have floated in with her eyes closed in ecstasy.

Sam nodded as she waved and she stopped to absorb the lobby of the Rock’n’Rolla. It was green. Really, really green. And not like green paint or carpet. Green like the rainforest. Plants exploded along one wall of the lobby and she could hear the faint trickle of a waterfall. Heavy wood chairs were scattered around and the floors and walls were some kind of natural stone. What she could see of them. She could feel the cool stone through her shoes and she wanted to sigh with relief.

But she was distracted because right in the middle of the lobby floor was what appeared to be a dead dog. Well, not dead, but surely dead to the world. Every now and then the loose lips would twitch. Randa approached it carefully because while she loved dogs, she didn’t really have much practical experience. Dogs didn’t work with the all-white, all-designer, all-expensive Whitmore design aesthetic. Her mother had told her that often enough. Eventually, Randa had stopped asking.

Randa squatted and teetered on her four-inch heels for a minute before she reached out to pet the dog’s long, silky brown ears. Little green bows fluttered as the dog drowsily stretched and moved closer to her. She knew she was wearing a stupid grin, but the softness of his—no, her droopy ears—and the satisfied “hmph” she let out before she went back to sleep were reasons to smile. Randa didn’t care who saw it.

“Can I help you?”

Randa glanced up across the empty lobby to see a thug in another ugly Hawaiian shirt standing behind the front desk. Thug might be too harsh. He was tall, dark, and not handsome but . . . attractive in intensely focused kind of way that made her nervous. Randa froze as her eyes locked with his. Close-cut hair gave him a military look, but the dark ink that ran from his wrist to the sleeve on his left arm said he was dangerous. Or different. Or both, but he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt after all. Unless he was robbing the place, he was part of the staff.

She’d spent most of her life swimming in deep waters where the sharks were hard to see behind designer labels and expensive haircuts. This man was so different that he might have been a whole new species. One with really nice muscles, big hands, and enough controlled power to merit a second and third look. He watched her like he knew her, knew everything about her because he saw her. He didn’t give her the obvious leer that she’d seen and dismissed a million times. This guy, when he looked, saw more than most people. Randa had spent a lot of time blending in with the perfectly bland Whitmore woodwork. Being the subject of that much focus made her restless. She knew exactly how a fluffy bunny felt when it looked up to see a hungry mountain lion. Well, except the bunny would run away. She wasn’t sure which direction she’d run if he crooked his finger right this second. Away was definitely safer, but all of sudden she was tired of safe.

 

Sneak Peek: Santa, Bring My Baby Back EXCERPT

/ Cheryl Harper / Leave a comment

Blog tour, Stop 5…EXCERPT! (I think. It’s early and it’s not posted yet so…could be a surprise!)

And the Giveway…did you enter yet? Click and add your favorite Elvis song for a chance to win. The clock is running down. I’ll pick and announce a winner tomorrow!

And now…an excerpt from the last Rock’n’Rolla Hotel book, Santa, Bring My Baby Back, coming December: weddings, Christmas, bloodhounds, and more weddings.(SO wish I could show the cover. I loved the cover of Stuck on You the way a starving woman loves a dessert buffet. There was great rejoicing when I saw it. But this last book…I haven’t even seen the final cover. The rough images made me sniffle happy tears. More good to come later, I guess.)

Charlie’s been stood up. He’s ready to perform his duty, marrying a happy bride and groom, even though he’d rather be just about anywhere else. But they didn’t show.

Excerpt

When his stomach growled again, Charlie hit the door to the lobby with a stiff arm, determined to get back on his own schedule. He needed to learn he couldn’t control other people. Maybe the world would work better if he could, but no one had elected him supreme leader. He wasn’t even a county mayor anymore. Now he was just Charlie. And he wasn’t responsible for the world.

He took four determined steps toward the glass doors that led out to the hotel’s pool area. The lobby of the new building was quiet as only the chapel was complete. The new spa was next on the list and then the meeting rooms on the second floor. The dark lobby made it easy to see the line of light under one of the dressing room doors off to the side.

Charlie mentally cursed again. Something about that light told him this was going to be more trouble than a man who hadn’t eaten in over four hours should attempt. If he was lucky, the groom was behind the door and he’d be a guy who could handle being left at the altar with manly stoicism. Charlie would have his lunch. Life would go on for both of them.

If he was really lucky? That light would be nothing but the symbol of the unlucky bride or groom who’d already done the math and cleared out while forgetting to flip the light switch. Wasteful? Maybe, but he’d take a little waste in order to get his schedule back and meat loaf sandwich in his hand.

After two perfunctory knocks, Charlie turned the knob and shoved open the door.

When his eyes met the bride’s in the mirror’s reflection, he froze on the spot and forgot just exactly what he thought he might say to the inconsiderate bride or groom if he ever found either of them.

Because she was beautiful with shiny dark hair and bright red lips. When she turned to face him, something sparkled like diamonds in her hair and he was tempted to look for seven small miners. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

“Aw, crap, he ain’t comin’, is he?” A small frown wrinkled the pale skin of her brow and something about Snow White’s east Tennessee twang set everything back in motion.

That was a damn good thing. Fairy-tale references would get his man card revoked. No amount of sawdust in his hair or worn flannel would save him.

He reached up to run his hand through his hair but hit crunchy product and decided to rub his neck like that was what he’d intended all along. “I was hoping that you could tell me. Don’t you know what happened to your groom?”