New Zealand’s worst candidate for instant fatherhood…
Ben doesn’t do gooey emotional stuff. He doesn’t do cosy home and family. And he sure isn’t the big teddy-bear Kezia Murphy, the woman he secretly fantasises about, thinks he is. So when Jade, his surprise eight-year-old daughter arrives on his doorstep, he’s a D-minus student struggling to pass a crash-course in parenting.
They’ll either melt or raze their lives to the ground…
When the sparks of attraction between Kezia and Ben fan into an inferno, Ben doesn’t know how much longer the layers of resistance around his heart can resist melting into the gooey mess he fears. The more he fights it the harder it is to make the choice that will destroy the family he now longs to claim.
Excerpt
Chapter One
Ben Harland slept late one Saturday morning and dreamed.
Not an inspirational dream or a combination of fleeting images jumbled into meaningless nonsense, but a down and dirty, Technicolor extravaganza involving Stewart Island’s seriously hot widow, Kezia Murphy. She smacked a wooden ruler across his knuckles as he slid a hand up her skirt.
“Worth it, babe.” He rolled onto his side, dragging his pillow with him.
In his head, Kezia’s no-nonsense boss rapped on the classroom door shouting at Ben to keep his hands and mouth off Oban’s prettiest teacher. Damn busy-body, he hadn’t even tasted Kez, yet, and—
The rapping from his dream merged with banging on his front door, accompanied by the repeated bzzzzt of the doorbell. Ben groaned and opened his eyes, flinging an elbow over his face at the sunlight streaming through his bedroom windows.
Kezia. Off limits—since lusting after her broke his personal decree: Don’t mess around with local women and/or one of your sisters’ friends. Yet he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
He flipped over to check the alarm clock. Nearly eleven. Late, even by his standards. But with no shark cage tours booked, he deserved to sleep in.
The doorbell gave another blast.
“Coming,” he hollered.
With a last longing squint at his mattress, Ben rolled off his bed and shambled halfway across the wooden floor before a chill whisked over his bare skin.
Oh. Right. Clothes.
Ben snatched yesterday’s jeans off the floor and yanked them on. Another flurry of knocks. Hell’s bells, what was their problem? Everyone knew everyone on New Zealand’s southernmost island, so why didn’t they just—
Bzzzzt.
His shoulders hunched close to his ears. First job after downing a gallon of coffee? Remove the doorbell’s batteries.
“The door’s unlocked. Just come in, for Pete’s sake,” he muttered, tugging a tee shirt over his head as he stepped out of his bedroom.
At the far end of the hall, a distinctively female figure stood outlined in his front door’s patterned glass, making no move to enter his house. The figure was too short for either of his sisters, and his mother would wear a red mini-skirt when a practical joker manhandled it onto her unconscious body. Kezia, she of the Mona-Lisa smile and wooden ruler, had a more conservative dress sense. And yeah, he’d noticed.
A potential client, maybe?
He zipped his jeans, checked the wall mirror and winced. Having nearly lost his diving business, he couldn’t afford to scare off customers. Fixing a welcoming smile on his face, he hustled down the hallway.
Ben opened the door to a blonde who had a big fake smile and bigger, faker boobs. Boobs trapped in a half-unbuttoned white blouse that threatened mutiny under the weight of so much cleavage. She looked to be in her late twenties, with an upturned nose, blue eyes, and a curtain of long, straight, straw-colored hair.
He didn’t know her.
“Hello, Ben.”
Or did he? Her slight nasal tone bristled along his nerve endings and tickled a vague memory. His smile flat lined.
The woman’s smile slipped at his silent regard and then grew wider. “Don’t you remember me, cutie? I’m Marci, Marci Roberts—well, Carter now.” She giggled, a shrill, twitter-y sound, snipped off when her teeth clamped down on her lower lip.
The name Marci Roberts didn’t jingle any warning bells, but the piercing giggle and “cutie” did. They jingled him back to his twenty-year-old self—back when he’d nail any willing woman.
For two nights they’d screwed like minks before she left for her home in—actually, he had no idea where she lived. He folded his arms. Why in God’s name was she on his doorstep?
The woman pulled a ridiculously pouty duck face. “I was here on holiday with my girlfriends nine years ago—”
“I remember.”
“Oh.” That giggle again.
Ben attempted a not-at-all-impatient smile. “Why are you here, Marci?”
Her blue eyes grew flinty and she sucked in a breath, which made her scary-ass boobs wobble. “Still not much of a conversationalist, I see.”
He shrugged. Why deny the truth?
She huffed, causing another boob wobble. “I’ll get to the point then. Jade?” She flicked her fingers at her side in a “come here” gesture.
Frost drifted down his spine. Jade? Her point was a semi-precious gemstone? What the—?
Ben stepped over the threshold. A little girl in a green dress and a pink backpack sat huddled on an over-turned suitcase in the corner of his front porch. Her sandy hair—tinged with auburn—was pulled into two pigtails and her hazel eyes, the same color as his sister, Piper’s, locked onto his.
His heartbeat hit warp-speed as Marci impatiently extended a hand to the girl. “Jade. Come say hi to your daddy.”
About the Author
I live in the Coolest Little Capital in the World (a.k.a Wellington, New Zealand) where I’ve yet to be buried under my to-be-read book pile by our infamous wind—my Kindle’s a lifesaver! Married to a wonderfully supportive IT guy we have two teens who would love to be surgically linked to their electronic devices.
Fuelled by copious amounts of coffee, I’m the author of contemporary romantic fiction set predominantly in New Zealand. Small-towns, close communities, and families are a big part of the heart-warming stories I love to write. Oh, and hot, down-to-earth heroes—Kiwi men, in other words.
When I’m not writing, thinking about writing, or procrastinating about writing, I can be found reading sexy books of all romance genres, nibbling on smuggled chocolate bars or bribing my kids to take over the housework.
Want to know when I release new books or have special subscriber only promotions? Please sign up to my newsletter by clicking here.
Questions or comments? E-mail me at tracey@traceyalvarez or find me on the following social networks:
Website: www.traceyalvarez.com
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The Playboy’s Redemption
—Book 3 of The Mackenzies—
Diana Fraser
Kindle Edition
ISBN 978-0-9922591-7-4
Copyright © 2013 by Diana Fraser
For more information about this author visit:
www.dianafraser.net
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is co-incidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.
Prologue
“Whisper Creek? On Waiheke Island? James, you must be mad! It makes no financial sense whatsoever to buy into such a small winery.”
“I know.” James looked away from his laptop screen—where he was skyping Guy, his friend and voice of reason—up to the large TV screen where a mute video was running. A fresh-faced
blonde was talking animatedly to the camera. Behind her, rows of grapevines ran down to a glittering azure sea. He looked back at Guy’s worried face. “But I want it anyway.”
“You’re paying over the odds. They’ve been looking for an investor for months and had no luck. Yes, it’s good. But it’s small, it’s basic and it’ll need a lot of capital invested to bring it up to scratch. If you want in, at least offer them a lower figure.”
“I’ve already paid the asking price.”
“God, James, sometimes I think you really don’t have any regard for money.”
James narrowed his eyes. “Such a strange thought.” Guy had no idea that there was very little in this world he had regard for.
Guy shook his head, perplexed. “Is there nothing I can say to make you see sense?”
“No. Sense has nothing to do with this.” The camera suddenly zoomed in to the blonde to catch a close up of a smile. James hit the pause button. There were traces of fine lines at the corners of her eyes he didn’t remember, and she wore makeup. He smiled to himself. He’d lay a bet that she hadn’t wanted to. Small changes. But her hair was the same stunning natural blonde, her eyes the same—bright in color and expression. He was transfixed by those eyes that brought back memories he’d spent the past ten years trying to forget.
“I agree with you there.” Guy sighed and leaned back in his chair in an attitude of defeat.
James pressed play again, only turning back to the skype screen once the blonde was replaced by interior shots of a winery. He smiled at Guy, the smile that could get him what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. “But don’t worry, Guy. I’ve not completely lost leave of my senses. I’m checking this investment out personally.”
“Well, after you have, why not come and stay a few days with Lucia and me, next week, before you return to the States?”
“Sure.” James looked out at the elegant, dark-haired woman waiting patiently for him in his office reception. “Look, I have to go. I’m in the middle of some… delicate negotiations.”
“Really? Anything you can share with us?”
“No, not yet. All will be revealed after I return to the States.” He glanced briefly at Guy before looking back at the screen. “See you next week then, mate.”
Guy’s frown turned into a grin. “Before you go, what’s the name of the woman?”
James didn’t move his eyes from the TV screen. “I didn’t say there was a woman involved.”
“James.” He shook his head in mock despair. “There’s always some woman involved.”
The laptop went blank and James turned back to the TV screen, held up the remote and stopped the video.
Guy was usually right. But not this time. Yes, there was a woman but this wasn’t some woman. This was one woman in particular. A woman he’d lost track of ten years ago after she’d made it quite clear she never wanted to see him again.
But times had changed. He’d changed. He needed to see her again. He glanced back at the woman in reception who was flicking through a glossy magazine. He had one week. One week to sort out a mess he’d created all those years ago. One week to find absolution for his past sins. One week before his life changed irrevocably.
Perhaps then he could move on with his life and find the happiness his brothers had found. He doubted it, but just the thought lit a dim light in his bleak soul. He doubted it very much… but he had to try.
Chapter One
“Susannah! Where are you?”
Susie looked from under the pipe she was fixing, to a pair of roman sandals that hopped impatiently from side to side. “Under here! What is it?” She continued to tighten the bolt with the spanner.
“Pete’s here and he’s got someone with him. He wants you.”
“Pete?” Susie frowned but continued to work the spanner. “He’s meant to be on his way to Fiji.”
“He will be later on today. But he’s here now, and he wants to see you.” The sandals were joined by a concerned-looking face framed with corkscrew curls, as Jorja, the winery receptionist, knelt down and peered at Susie. “It looks serious. Pete’s all dressed up in a suit and so is this other guy.” She gave a long, low whistle of approval.
Susie closed her eyes and sighed. A suit, a stranger? Pete never wore suits and certainly no one ever came to the winery in suits. Shorts, jandals, backpacks, yes, but suits? No way. It could only mean one thing. Pete had sold the winery. He’d been looking for a buyer for months. It must have happened while he was in the South Island, because she had no clue anyone was interested. Susie gave the bolt a final, unnecessary, twist.
“Okay, I’m coming.”
She wriggled out from under the pipe work and brushed herself down, managing to smear oil down her shorts as she did so. Jorja eyed her up and down nervously. “You’d better get changed. This looks serious.”
“No way. This is a working winery. Whoever this guy is will have to take me as I am.”
“They’re in the boardroom,” Jorja whispered, opening the door.
Susie followed Jorja out to the small reception area, where she heard the low murmur of male voices. “Boardroom? Since when have we had a boardroom?”
“Since Pete wanted to impress someone. I even had to photocopy papers for you. They looked really official.”
Susie’s heart sank. Her first guess must have been correct. “I suppose it had to happen.”
Jorja smiled sympathetically. “It’ll probably carry on as before. Why else would anyone buy the winery? They must have fallen in love with it like we have.”
“Let’s hope so.” She walked into the high-ceilinged room, more often used for wine tasting than meetings, and looked around. Pete was standing, alone, beside the open ranch sliders.
“Susannah!” He grinned and walked quickly over and planted a friendly kiss on the side of her cheek. And, for the umpteenth time, Susie wondered why she couldn’t feel anything more than friendship for this wonderful man.
“Hey, you! I thought you were on your way to Fiji?”
“I’m still going. I’m leaving in an hour. It’s just a flying visit. For me, at least.”
Susie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll never believe it.” His mouth twisted as he tried, in vain, to suppress a grin.
“You’ve sold up?” She said mournfully, helping herself to a handful of raw nuts that Jorja had tipped into a wooden bowl.
“Yep! Out of blue.”
“How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I tried to contact you.”
“Ah… I was camping, with Tom. I didn’t take my cell phone.”
“Anyway, I knew you’d be happy. It’s what we’ve both been wanting—an investor who doesn’t want to close us down or amalgamate with another winery. It’s perfect.”
“Okay, slow down. How did it happen?”
“I was down in Tekapo—”
“Don’t tell me. You spent all your time at the Lakehouse Cafe trying to persuade Liz that she really should go out with you, and that she really should be happy that you’re moving to Tekapo to be near her.”
“Something like that. Anyway, it was through her that I found him.”
Susie looked up suddenly. “Found who?”
Pete thrust his hands in his pockets and rolled back onto his heels, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “The new owner of Whisper Creek winery.”
Suddenly Susie became aware of voices on the terrace. Jorja had moved outside and her soft lilting Scots accent drifted in through the open window. But now another voice had joined hers—deep, masculine, and as seductive and warming as the soft afternoon breeze. Her mouth went dry as a sickening jolt of visceral recognition gripped her. She knew that voice. She might not have heard it in ten years, but it was as familiar to her as her own. But her mind refused to believe what her body was telling her. She turned slowly to Pete, who was uncorking a bottle of wine, and tried to speak but no sound emerged. She swallowed. “Who is it?”
The disembodied voice
stopped at what sounded like the punch line to a joke and Jorja’s flirtatious laughter followed. Susie shook her head, as if to rid it of an unwelcome echo. But, even though she could no longer hear it, the voice filled her senses.
Pete pulled the cork out with a pop and turned to her. “Who is what?”
“The new owner, Pete. Who is the new owner?”
“JM Investments.” He sniffed the wine appreciatively. “It’s a holding company which owns several wineries including one in Napa Valley.”
He poured the wine into three burgundy glasses and she inhaled a deep breath as she automatically took the glass Pete offered her. “And it’s owned by?”
The afternoon sun suddenly shadowed as someone stood in the doorway.
“James—” Pete began.
“Mackenzie,” the voice interrupted. She looked up at the man whose shadow reached over the clay-tiled floor and touched her. His dark silhouette was outlined by the late sun and she couldn’t see his features clearly. But she would have known his voice anywhere, known the man, from how his gaze made her feel.
Then he stepped towards her into the light. She knew the lines of his face like she knew her own. It was at once familiar and yet also strange. The familiar lines—the shape of his face, his nose, cheekbones— had morphed from a fun-loving, good-looking teen into an unfamiliar figure—an immaculately dressed, devastatingly handsome man. But the humor in his eyes was still there and the smile on his lips was the same as he extended his hand towards hers.
Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book Page 32