Four steps to a brand-new life
Cassie Hartman knows what she needs to do to get her life under control. First, she’ll get herself promoted. Then she’ll update her appearance. Steps three and four—marriage and family—well, those will have to wait.
Then Ronan McGuire shows up. The too-sexy, too-polished business consultant has the power to derail Cassie’s plans before she’s even really started. If he doesn’t approve her promotion, she’ll be back to square one—and that’s not an option. Cassie needs to keep her focus on that first step, no matter how much Ronan tempts her to skip ahead to the third and fourth ones….
Questions piled up inside her mind faster than she could process them
What would it be like to see Ronan naked? To have his bare skin against her own?
“Cassie, sweetheart.” Ronan’s voice was a ragged plea. “You have to stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking, because otherwise I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m trying so hard to do the right thing here.”
Surely the right thing couldn’t be denying this energy that thrummed between them, the desperation to hold him again that seemed to pour from her every nerve. Even if it was the very last thing in the world she should be thinking, let alone doing. He was exactly the wrong kind of man for her. She wanted safe, he offered reckless. She wanted stable and settled, he traveled the world for his work, no doubt had a girl in every port.
And yet...
Dear Reader,
While unlike Cassie, I’m not afraid of flying, I am very familiar with frequent travel for business. I’ve always entertained a fantasy that one day, I’d board a plane and sitting next to me would be Bradley Cooper or Alex O’Loughlin. (I seem to conveniently forget those guys aren’t likely to fly coach!) I have a definite weakness for broad-shouldered men in crisply tailored suits, white shirts and silk ties. Especially when they’re a little crumpled after a day’s work. Unfortunately, also unlike Cassie, I’ve yet to find a consultant quite like Ronan on one of my plane trips.
While Cassie might be about to go through the audit/job interview from hell, at least the scenery’s good! And like many people who’ve experienced this kind of review, for Cassie it turns out to be a watershed moment, a critical turning point for her to review her life and reassess what she wants from it. It’s a big upheaval for her, because the one thing she’s not good at is change. But she’s boarded the ride now—it’s too late to turn back.
Writing Cassie and Ronan’s story was a roller-coaster ride for me, just like the Scenic Railway they ride at Luna Park—although with perhaps more extreme highs and lows. Thankfully the ride ended with the greatest high of all: this, my first published book. There are lots of people who went along with me for the ride—too many to thank individually. I just hope they’re not too worn-out from all the squealing!
I’d love to hear from you. Visit me at
www.emmiedark.com.
Cheers,
Emmie Dark
Cassie’s Grand Plan
Emmie Dark
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After years of writing press releases, employee newsletters and speeches for CEOs and politicians—none of which included any kind of kissing—Emmie Dark finally took to her laptop to write what she wanted to write. She was both amazed and delighted to discover that what came out were sexy, noble heroes who found themselves crossing paths with strong, but perhaps slightly damaged, heroines. And plenty of kissing.
Emmie lives in Melbourne, Australia, and she likes red lipstick, chardonnay, sunshine, driving fast, rose-scented soap and a really good cup of tea.
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Contents
CHAPTER ONE
SWEAT PRICKLED THE BACK of his neck. It was too hot for a suit, but professional pride insisted he drag his Hugo Boss jacket from the backseat and shrug it on anyway.
Funny, he hadn’t thought he had any pride left.
Ronan Conroy surveyed the scene from inside the car a bit longer, delaying the moment he’d need to turn off the engine and lose the blast of cool air from the vents—little as it was doing to assuage the heat.
Two women stood outside the Country Style furniture warehouse in the grimy, industrial outskirts of Melbourne. Heat shimmered in air that smelled of dust and smoke, perceptible even inside the car. Concrete buildings and asphalt roads only magnified the temperature. It was hot as hell and that was probably fitting—this was, after all, supposed to be a punishment.
The women were talking animatedly. Stacks of furniture—chairs, tables, cabinets, bed frames—were haphazardly arranged around them. Guys dripping sweat emerged from inside the warehouse, grabbed an item and disappeared back into the darkness with it.
As jet lag pulled at his eyelids, Ronan watched the women continue to talk, each of them occasionally pointing at a clipboard one of them was holding.