Hammer & Nails

by Large, Andria

  HAMMER& NAILS

  By Andria Large

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Hammer & Nails

  Copyright © 2015 by Andria Large.

  All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or used in any manner whatsoever, via the Internet, electronic, or print, without the express written permission of the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For more information, or information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author: http://www.AuthorAndriaLarge.com

  Edited by: Megan Hershenson

  Cover Design by: Andria Large

  First Edition, 2015

  Please note: Andria Large acknowledges the copyrighted items named in the novel, Hammer & Nails. The author does not own the right to the products, songs, or brands that are mentioned in this story.

  Also by Andria Large:

  The Beck Brothers Series:

  Henry

  Sebastian

  Quinn

  Christian

  A Taboo Love Series:

  Hey There, Delilah…

  Unmasking Charlotte

  Crossing The Line

  Renegade Series:

  Sweet Renegade

  Wild Renegade

  Irresistible Renegade (Coming Soon)

  War Trilogy:

  At War

  War Torn (Coming Soon)

  Blurb

  Harley Jameson is not your typical woman. She’s a rough and tumble, beer drinking, hockey loving, smart mouthed, kind of woman. In fact, she owns her own contracting company. Most men just treat her as one of the guys; that is, until she meets her newest client…

  Nolan Hammerstein is most definitely not a guy’s guy. He’s rich, spoiled, well dressed, and oh yeah - rich. His father owns the NHL’s Boston Bruisers, and he’s worked for his father since graduating from Harvard. Needless to say, he lives the life of luxury. When he purchases a new home, Nolan calls Jameson Contractors to schedule a consult with a man that he thinks is the owner…

  Harley and Nolan’s first meeting does not go well, so you can imagine her surprise when he actually hires her to renovate his house. While snarky comments and arguments are simmering on the surface, sexual attraction and tension are brewing underneath. But will Nolan’s uptight father and a handsy hockey player get in between their already volatile relationship? Or will they learn to accept each other’s differences and bond tighter because of them?

  Note: This book is a standalone with a HEA. For mature audiences only as there are hot, steamy and explicit sex scenes throughout the book.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Also by Andria Large

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  ~ One ~

  ~Nolan~

  “Are you sure about this person? I’ve never heard of Jameson Contractors.” I ask, eyeing the simple white business card in between my fingers.

  “Totally. They did a fantastic job on my home office,” my friend and colleague, Brock Wiseman, says.

  “Yeah?” I reply, raising my eyebrows in curiosity.

  “They’re a small company, but they work hard and came up with a design that I absolutely loved. I’ll be calling them back when I need to redo the rest of my house,” he states.

  Brock is a pretty handy guy, so for him to say such good things about this little contracting company, then they must be good.

  “And the owner, Harley, is a real riot.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Funny as shit and tough as nails.”

  I nod. “Well, thank you. I will definitely give them a call. My home is in dire need of some updating.”

  “No problem, man. Let me know how it works out for ya.” Brock smirks as if he knows something I don’t.

  I frown as we shake hands. He leaves my office and shuts the door behind him. I look down at the card again. It’s just a plain white card with black lettering. The company logo is on the front while the contact information is on the back. They have a website. I think I will check that out first. Maybe they have some pictures of renovations I can look at.

  I just bought a new house. I got a great deal on it, but it desperately needs to be gutted and redone. I love the location and the grounds that it sits on. I hit the space bar on my keyboard to wake up my computer. The large black and yellow double B of the Boston Bruisers emblem blasts me in the face. I bite back a groan. My father, the owner of the NHL team, doesn’t allow anything other than Boston Bruisers backgrounds on our office computers. He says that we have to support our team, even if we don’t watch the games. I don’t give two shits about hockey, but I work for my father as a marketing and PR executive and have to follow office rules.

  I pull up the website and glance through their pictures of projects that they’ve done. Everything does look up to par. I decide to give them a shot. If they screw something up, I can always sue their asses. I pick up the phone and dial the number on the card. After a few rings, a male voice answers.

  “Harley Jameson’s office.”

  “Ah, yes, my name is Nolan Hammerstein and I’m looking to have my house renovated,” I say.

  “Your whole house?” the man asks, slightly shocked.

  “Yes, I just bought the property a month ago and it needs to be updated,” I tell whom I assume is the owner, Harley Jameson.

  “Ooookay, let me just get some information from you. What was your name again?”

  “Nolan Hammerstein.”

  “And your address and phone number?”

  I give him all of my information and we agree on a time for him to come over and give me an estimate and time frame that such a large project would take. I thank him before we hang up. I pull up my calendar on my computer and type in the appointment date. Saturday, two days from now at 9 am. I’m looking forward to it.

  ~Harley~

  “Who was on the phone?” I ask my brother, Nate.

  Nate looks up from the computer a little wide-eyed. “Some dude who wants his whole house reno’d.”

  I gawk at him. “What?!”

  “Yeah! He said that his friend highly recommended us,” Nate says.

  “Sweet! What’s the address?”

  Nate hands me a piece of paper with the address and I blink at it a couple of times. “Nate, are you sure this is what he said?”

  “Yeah, man. I even read it back to him.” He nods.

  “This is a wealthy neighborhood,” I tell him.

  “I know that, assface.” He scoffs. “The dude’s probably loaded. He sounded all high class.”

  “This could be really good for us. When’s the appointment?”

  “Saturday, 9:00 am.”

  I smile. “Perfect.”

  I have three brothers, all of them older than me. Nate, is a year and a half older than me at 29. At 31, Jason comes next. And Shane is the oldest at 34. My mother died shortly after giving birth to me. So for me, it’s always been just my dad and the four of us. I think he did a damn good job on his own. He raised four respect
ful, hardworking people. The four of us are all successful, I mean, look at me - I have my own business. Nate is working for me because he’s an accountant and I need him to take care of all of my finances. I suck at that shit. He likes working for me, though; he gets paid well and gets to run the office. Jason is a kindergarten teacher and Shane is a fucking doctor! I don’t think my dad could have done any better than that!

  I look at the paper in my hand again. Something about this guy’s name is bugging me. “Hammerstein. Hammerstein. Where have I heard that name before?”

  Nate, who is doing a Sudoku puzzle, mutters without looking up, “Isn’t that the name of the Bruisers owner?”

  I gasp. It absolutely is! In the Jameson house, you either live and breathe hockey, or you are dead to my father. Needless to say, we are all Boston Bruisers fanatics.

  “Oh my god! Nate! What if it’s the owner of the Bruisers?” I squawk.

  “I don’t think his first name is Nolan, though.” Nate frowns.

  “No, but his son’s is!” I exclaim, remembering seeing an article in the paper about the Bruisers owner and his family.

  Nate lifts his head and gives me a smile. “How fuckin’ awesome would it be if it is the Bruisers owner’s son?”

  “Nate, this is not a common name. How many people do you think are in Boston with this name? I’ll bet you anything that it is him!”

  “Well then, you better do a damn good job on his house. Otherwise, that will probably be the end of this company,” Nate says, killing all of the excitement that was building in me.

  “Oh shit,” I grumble.

  Nate snorts. “Yeah, ‘oh shit’ is right.”

  ~Nolan~

  The doorbell rings at exactly 9 am. Pleased already with Jameson Contractors for being prompt, I head toward the door. I only just arrived fifteen minutes ago. I’ve been staying with my father for the time being. I’m hoping that this contractor can do the job fairly quickly so that I can go back to living on my own. I was in an apartment before this and I didn’t want to renew the contract, so I bought the house and moved in with my dad. Not really the ideal situation, but it works for now.

  I open the door. There is a…girl…standing there, her back to me. Her long blonde hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. She’s wearing form fitting, straight-legged jeans, a tight blue T-shirt with the Jameson Contractors’ logo on the back, and work boots. Tucked under her arm is a clipboard, stuck behind her ear is a pencil, and clipped to the back pocket of her jeans is a measuring tape.

  “Can I help you?” I ask in irritation. I don’t have time for games.

  She spins around, a smile on her…beautiful…face. She’s got pretty green eyes and lightly tanned skin. Her lips are full and pouty and the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen. She smiles and my heart stops. “Mr. Hammerstein?” she asks in a thick Boston accent.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I say. I glance around to see if there is anyone with her. The work truck in the driveway is empty. Maybe Harley is looking around back?

  “Hi! I’m Harley Jameson,” she says and sticks out her hand.

  I look at her hand then back at her face. Her smile slowly drops when I don’t shake her hand.

  “That’s funny. Is Harley around back? Because I don’t have time to talk to little girls right now.”

  She flinches as if she was just slapped, her hand landing on her hip.

  “Excuse me?” she asks incredulously.

  “Listen, I talked to Harley on the phone and he’s a man. I don’t know why he sent you, but I don’t find this to be a good way to conduct business,” I reply.

  “No, you did not talk to Harley on the phone because I’m Harley. You spoke to my brother, Nate, Mr. Hammerstein. He’s the one who set up the appointment...with me…Harley Jameson…the owner.”

  It’s my turn to give her an incredulous look. “Are you really trying to tell me that a woman is the owner of Jameson Contractors?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” she breathes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Are you kidding me, man? Is this some kind of joke?” she asks in her thick Boston accent, slapping her hand on her thigh and looking around as if searching for something. “Am I being punked right now?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I snap. This girl is really starting to annoy me.

  “Alright, buddy. I’m only going to say this one more time, so try to follow along. I am Harley Jameson. I own Jameson Contractors. Yes, I am a woman. See these? These are called tits,” she says, using her hands to cups her breasts and heft them up a couple of times. “Pretty much every woman has them and some men, too. You got a problem with me owning my own business?”

  I can only gape at her. This is who Brock said was a riot? He must have lost his damn mind. I drag a hand down my face. “This is unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Listen, pretty boy, I’m not going to stand out here all day, so make up your mind. Do you want me to do the estimate or not?”

  Pretty boy? She’s going to insult me and then expect me to give her the job? I’m just about to tell her to forget it when I remember the pictures of the work she’s done and what Brock said about how he would definitely be hiring her again. I guess I can at least let her give me an estimate and then I can get a few more before making a final decision.

  “All right, fine. Come in,” I say begrudgingly, stepping aside to let her enter.

  She grunts and walks by me. I catch a whiff of whatever perfume or lotion or whatever she’s wearing and it smells heavenly. I expected her to stink. She’s doing a man’s job, after all. I shut the door and turn to find her wandering into what I want to make my office. It would normally be used as a formal living room.

  “So you wanna gut the whole place? Is that right?” she asks, popping the tape measure off her back pocket and measuring the room. She writes down the numbers on a sheet of paper attached to her clipboard.

  “Yes, I want the whole place redone from top to bottom. I want everything to be new and updated.”

  I follow her through each room as she looks around and measures and writes down notes. At one point, she squats down to pull back a corner of carpet to see what kind of floors are under it and I get an eyeful of the black lace thong that she’s wearing. I will admit that she has a spectacular ass. I am a man after all. I do notice when women are attractive, even if they act like…her.

  After going through the upstairs, we head back downstairs. When we get to the bottom of the steps, she drops her fine ass onto the second to last step and looks down at her notes.

  “Okay, here’s the thing, Mr. Hammerstein. This place is huge. For me to do this job, it’s probably going to take longer than some other companies because I just don’t have the manpower. I only have four guys on my payroll because I’m still a small company and haven’t done a project this big. Usually, it’s just a room or two, not an entire house,” she says honestly, looking up at me.

  “How long do you think it would take you?” I ask from my position of standing in front of her with my arms crossed over my chest. I appreciate her honesty.

  “At least six months, if not a little longer.” She winces.

  I nod. That is slightly longer than I had hoped. “And what am I looking at price wise?”

  “As long as I don’t run into any major issues, which is possible because the place is older, anywhere from one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand dollars,” she replies and stands. She pulls the paper free of the clipboard and hands it to me. “Here is my quote. Check out some other contractors and compare, then let me know what you decide.”

  She walks out of the door without a word. I stare at the closed door. She is unlike any woman I’ve ever met. She’s upfront and honest, which I like, but Jesus, is she difficult. And crude. She shook her boobs at me. I still can’t believe she did that! And she called me pretty boy. I don’t think that I can stand to be around this woman again. I’m going to find another contractor.

  ~ Two ~
<
br />   ~Harley~

  “There is no way in hell Nolan Hammerstein is going to call me for this job,” I mutter around a mouthful of steak.

  Nate shrugs. “If he does, that’s awesome. If he doesn’t, then oh well, his loss,” he replies, his own mouth full of steak.

  “Can you two cavemen please stop talking with your mouths full?” Shane grunts in disgust.

  We are all gathered around the kitchen table in our childhood home. My dad insists that we have dinner together at least once a week. It’s usually Monday nights because that’s when everyone is the least busy. I make sure to chew like a cow while glaring at Shane.

  “Like this?” I ask, showing him the ground up meat in my mouth.

  He gives me a disgusted look. “Ya know, I am utterly stunned that you are still single.”

  I flip him the bird. “Who the hell are you to talk? You’re single, too!”

  “Yeah, but that’s because I’m busy as shit and don’t have time for a girlfriend.”

  “Boyfriend, you mean.” Jason snickers.

  Everyone except for Shane laughs.

  “Oh, fuck all of you! I’m never telling you guys anything ever again,” Shane barks, stabbing at his food.

  “Alright, leave him alone,” my dad interjects. “There is nothing wrong with being bi,” he says, giving Shane a pat on the back while smirking devilishly.

  “I am not bi!” Shane exclaims. “One time! One time, I kiss a guy in a challenge and this is the shit I get! I hate you all!”

  We all explode into fits of laughter. Shane is so fun to pick on because he gets so flustered. As my laughter dies down to giggles, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out and look at the screen. I don’t recognize the number but it’s probably a client. I excuse myself from the table and head into the living room to answer the call.