By Bestselling Author Kate Perry
Portia Summerhill feels like a loser.
Thirty-something, jobless, and living at home… How could she not? Next to her accomplished sisters, Portia’s achievements—or lack thereof—are that much more noticeable.
The one thing Portia can claim is expert knowledge on antiques and her ancestry, and in a moment of serendipity, the perfect job lands in her lap: curator at the Museum of British Peerage. There’s one caveat: the museum won’t hire her unless she brings the family jewels with her. Or, more specifically, the infamous Summerhill tiara.
Except a cowboy hotelier stands between her and her tiara. Jackson Waite needs help getting his newest posh hotel launched and, luckily for Portia, he’s willing to make a trade. If she helps him meet the deadline for his new resort, he’ll give her the tiara. Only, the more time she spends with Jackson, the more Portia wonders if she wants the tiara or the man keeping it from her.
Excerpt from Lost in Love:
“The interior of the elevator was reflective and she checked herself in the reflective surface. Her right stocking was sagging the tiniest bit. She still had a dozen floors, so she lifted her skirt high to secure it to her garter better.
Only the elevator stopped and the doors opened without warning. She glanced up, her skirt high up around the tops of her thighs.
A man walked in without hesitation. He was the stereotype of an American, from the tip of his cowboy hat down to the heels of his cowboy boots. As if that didn’t make his nationality clear, the way he stared at her thighs was the deciding factor. A proper British man would have averted his eyes. This man eyed her like he wanted to take a bite out of her.
“I didn’t know women still wore those things,” he drawled as he leaned against the opposite wall.
“They’re called garters, and of course women still wear them.” She fixed her stocking and pulled her skirt down as quickly as possible, trying not to be distracted by the way he looked in his jeans. She’d never seen a man fill them out so… prodigiously. And his boots intrigued her. They were well loved, obviously a favorite pair.”
“Today was—” She looked for the right word that’d encompass everything she felt, but nothing seemed adequate. So she settled for, “Magical.”
He smiled. Running a finger down the side of her face, he turned.
She watched him stride to the elevator. She wanted to run after him and tell him she was wrong—that she wanted to be a princess a little while longer if it meant he’d come to her room. She took a step toward him, wanting to stop him before the elevator whisked him to his own room.
Kate has tangoed at midnight with a man in blue furry chaps, dueled with flaming swords in the desert, and strutted on bar tops
across the world and back. She’s been kissed under the Eiffel Tower, had her butt pinched in Florence, and been serenaded in New
Orleans. But she found Happy Ever After in San Francisco with her Magic Man.
Kate’s the bestselling author of the Laurel Heights Novels, as well as the Pillow Talk and Guardians of Destiny series. She’s been translated into several languages and is quite proud to say she’s big in Slovenia. All her books are about strong, independent women who just want love.
Most days, you can find Kate in her favorite café, working on her latest novel. Sometimes she’s wearing a tutu. She may or may not have a jeweled dagger strapped to her thigh…
￼”Do you like champagne?” he asked, eyeing her whiskey. “I adore champagne.”
Somehow that was a relief. Impulsively he said, “Come away with me.”
Enter for a chance to win:
(1) $250 Gift Card to the spa of your choice
(1) $50 3Gift Card from Fresh.com
(1) Box of Kate’s favorite chocolates
“Hello.” Her heart hammered. Lowering the books, she tried not to stare at him but it was hard not to. He looked so virile next to the frivolously carved furniture. He wore a leather jacket, a sweater with a T-shirt underneath, well-worn jeans, and his boots, of course. On his head was a cowboy hat. She looked behind him to see if he was being followed by a steed.
“He kissed me.” “Did you like it?”
Trust Imogen to get to the sexy point of it. “There aren’t words to describe it. I never knew fireworks actually happened.”
Gigi’s gaze softened. “That good?”
His hands ran up her thighs, squeezing her behind and resting on her waist. His gaze roamed over her, greedy and appreciative. “My parents have always told me I’m a devil, but I must have done something right sometime to deserve this.”
When Jackson finally spoke, he said, “I knew you were a cowgirl at heart the moment I laid eyes on you.”
She hadn’t, and at one time she might have been offended to be equated to something so American. But maybe she was more than she’d always thought. And if being a cowgirl meant this…
“You’ll know when it’s love. In your heart, you’ll know. There won’t be any questions.”
She nodded. The thing was, she did know, and knowing was terrifying.
She hoped dessert would be included, something long and sweet and Southern.
“I won’t play second fiddle to another woman, no matter how much I like her.” “There’s only one fiddle in my life, duchess, and she’s British made and high
“Come sit with me.” Taking her hand, he led her to the couch and sat with her. “You can drink your wine and I can try to make you feel less nervous.”
She smiled as she sipped. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.” He took her hand and held it secure and warm in his. “I won’t hurt you…”