She wants a summer job and a ride to a wedding.
He wants an assistant and a distraction from the mess his life had become.
They didn't know they needed each other.
Avery Emili needs two grand. Two grand and a plane ticket--her sister
is counting on her to get to Jamaica for her wedding. But the semester
is over, and tutoring college freshman and high school students has
dried up until the fall.
Atticus Grimes needs help--the messy split
with his wife left the twenty-eight year old professor scrambling to
keep things together as the semester winds down. Now he's got a research
grant he has to actually do research for and all he wants to do is
drown himself in a tall bottle of bourbon.
When Avery sees his ad
for an assistant, all she's thinking is a summer job. But as they spend
time together, in the office and out, both of them begin to realize
something is there. Something that can't happen--he's a professor and
she's a student. And both of them have histories, pasts that won’t let
go. Can two broken people pulled apart by expectations find a way to be
whole?
One week from today, This Love by Nazarea Andrews will be available!
Here's the last special teaser for it!
I stare at her as she slides into my booth. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips still wet from tequila; her eyes sparkle with amusement and fire.
“I’m here. What do you want, Professor?”
Irritation swamps me—she knows I don’t like it when she calls me that. “You made a friend over there.” I nod at the guy, who is still staring at her.
“Jealous? You didn’t step in.”
“You took care of yourself. I won’t get involved if you can take care of yourself. But—” I lean toward her, my lips brushing her ear. “—If you can’t, don’t think for an instant I’d hesitate.”
She shudders, and I want to push her back against the booth and kiss her, want to shove her skirt up and slide into her—
I sit back, giving her—and me—room to breathe.
"What do you want, Atticus?" she asks, looking away.
That is the question. "I don't know."
She twists and glares at me. "That's a cop out, and we both know it," she snaps.
Avery starts to scoot out of the booth and I let her. I haven't seen this side of her, not directed at me. She's furious, all the soft sweetness gone. She's halfway across the bar when the redneck from before intercepts her. Avery's motions are sharp, her smile forced, and she tries to edge around him. His hand closes over her wrist, and I move without thinking.
I'm across the bar in a few strides. Redneck is still holding her, his eyes laughing as he teases and tries to get her on the dance floor. She's stiff when I slide my arms around her waist, pulling her against me. Its a thousand kinds of crazy. But I do it anyway, nuzzle her hair. "Dance with me."
The redneck frowns, and I want him to push. I want the excuse to fight him. But he's a good kid—he steps back and nods.
"I was fine," she says, and I love the tremble in her voice as my hand slips under the silk top, finding skin even softer.
"I wasn't," I say honestly.
She doesn't resist as I tug her gently onto the dance floor. It's a fast song, but I'm not in the mood for that. I pull her against me, back to my front, and we sway to the music. Her hands come up over mine, her hair falling to the side as she tilts her neck and leans into my shoulder. It's a quiet surrender that makes my pulse spike. I lean down, kissing her neck, and her grip on my hands tightens.
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