“…may be it is a cliché for a single dad to fall for the nanny. But fuck, it sure as hell isn’t a crime.”
➦Hot single dad, anyone?
➦Simon is a single, sexy and caring man who just happens to have the hots for his daughter’s babysitter. The problem is that she’s too good of a babysitter and those aren’t easy to find in Manhattan.
➦Abby loves working for Simon but, even though she issecretly salivating over him, she cannot risk her job and get mixed up with her boss. Or can she?
❤This book has everything I love in Lauren Blakely’s romances: a bit of a forbidden factor, anticipation of sexy things to come and crazy feels once the main characters collide. Hot and sweet at the same time, this novel definitely delivers a hero I can swoon over. 🙂
✘ I only wish this book were longer. It’s a short read but I wanted more more more! I would have loved more character development, I WANT TO KNOW ALL OF SIMON’S SECRETS. lol
➦If you are looking for a short & sexy romance, give the Sexy One a try! A definite panty melter 🙂
“Your language skills are better than your French-braiding skills,” she teases as she shuts her iPad.
I pretend to be insulted. “So not true. I can do French braids with my eyes closed.”
She shakes her head. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“I’ll prove it to you.”
She tilts her head, and her hand freezes on her purse. “Prove it?” she asks quietly.
Somehow I’ve thrown a gauntlet I didn’t realize I was tossing. I do the only natural next thing—follow through. “Sure. Got one of those hair tie things?”
She nods slowly. “Yes, but . . .” Her voice trails off. Then she resumes the thought. “You really learned to French braid?”
I nod. “Hayden insisted on it,” I explain then study her face. Her pupils are dilated, and she blinks. Ah hell, I’ve made her wary with my remark. “I don’t have to prove it. I was just teasing,” I say, giving her an out. Mildly flirty comments are one thing—hands in hair are another.
A small grin spreads on her face, as she dips her hand into her purse and produces a black elastic band. “No, I insist. You were horrible last time. Have at it.”
She drops to the floor, scoots over to me, and with her shoulder, she nudges my right knee.
Hello, slippery slope. Funny to see you again so soon.
Her other shoulder bumps my other knee. There’s no need to think—I widen my legs more and let her settle in between them. I’m seated on the couch, she’s on the floor, and she waits for me to braid her hair.
As I stare at her lush, blond locks, the breath escapes my lungs. For a moment, it’s as if I’m hovering in a state of suspended want. Like this is the real line we’re crossing. Not me bringing her dessert, or touching the corner of her lips, or gazing at her face longer than I should. Not even sending texts about a pair of wild birds or making comments about showers and nudity.
Touching her hair.
Fuck, I love her hair.
I slide the tie over my wrist, then gather up some strands near the top of her head. “Confession,” I say in a quiet voice. “I watched a few YouTube videos after you taught me.”
She leans back, and I can feel her smile. “Like I said, prove it.”
“It’s on.” I focus on the task of separating her honey-blond hair into three sections, running my fingers through them like a comb. I lift the first strand and lay it over the middle one, then the left, gathering more hair into the next section.
After I failed at her first French braid lesson, I took it upon myself to learn. I don’t like not being able to master basic skills. A man should be able to braid his daughter’s hair.
And his woman’s hair.
“How does it look?” Her voice sounds a little breathy.
“Like it was braided by a man who learned by watching YouTube videos,” I answer.
She laughs lightly and leans into me more, inching closer. My hands still for a moment. I feel like I’m in high school again. Like I have a crush on a girl, and I don’t know what to do, where to go next, what to say.
The thing is, I do know. I just don’t know that I should. But I know what I want. There’s no doubt in my mind. I want to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her body press against mine. Even the chance to touch her like this is intoxicating, a rush of blood to the head. Her waves of hair are soft, and they feel spectacular falling through my fingers. I can’t picture a single thing besides running my hands through these strands as I kiss her, as I touch her, as she moves beneath me.
About the Author
Since self-publishing her debut romance novel CAUGHT UP IN US three years ago, Lauren Blakely has sold more than 1 million books. She is known for her sexy contemporary romance style that’s full of heat, heart and humor. A devout fan of cake and canines, Lauren has plotted entire novels while walking her four-legged friends. She lives in California with her family. With eleven New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than sixty times. Her bestselling series include Sinful Nights, Seductive Nights, No Regrets, Caught Up in Love, and Fighting Fire as well as standalone hit romantic comedies like BIG ROCK, MISTER O and WELL HUNG, which were all instant New York Times Bestsellers. In the fall she’ll release THE SEXY ONE, a standalone romance.