Title: Sweet Southern Trouble
Author:
Michele Summers
Pub
Date: May 2, 2017
ISBN:
9781402293641
An ambitious Southern belle
Marabelle Fairchild knows she’s a gal who can get
things done. Feeling unappreciated at the exclusive private school where she’s
a kindergarten aide and varsity tennis coach, Marabelle determines to score
with the next big fundraiser. What she doesn’t expect? A smokin' hot football
coach to throw her off her game...
A reclusive NFL bachelor...
NFL coach Nick Frasier is Raleigh’s most eligible
bachelor, but he wants to focus on his career…not his playboy status. He
doesn’t need a smart-mouthed, pint-sized kindergarten teacher pestering him. So
he cuts Marabelle a deal—in exchange for Nick sponsoring a bachelor auction
starring him and his gorgeous celebrity pals, Marabelle will pose as his
fiancée to ward off unwanted advances.
What could possibly go
wrong?
MICHELE SUMMERS writes about small-town
life with a Southern flair, and has her own interior design business in
Raleigh, North Carolina, and Miami, Florida. Both professions feed her creative
appetite and provide a daily dose of humor. |
Buy Links:
The best things about the South can be debated until the cows come
home. For me, the list changes as often as our weather. I was born and raised a
Carolina Blue Tarheel, but after college, I made my home in Miami, Florida and
stayed for over twenty years (A different kind of south altogether). But since
returning to my Tarheel state, it’s quite evident, some things have changed…and
some things have not!
Here’s one of my favorite things
about the south:
Southern Hospitality: Yes, ma’am. Southern hospitality is so much more than
being polite to one another. In the South we make our guests feel like family.
Our southern drawl is our way of talking more slowly, letting our guests know
they’re welcome to stay as long as they would like. Conversation flows
seamlessly from the front door, to the dinner table, to the family room.
Southern hospitality is
contagious and spreads like kudzu on a vine. We don’t expect reciprocity, but
many times it happens nonetheless. And before you know it, friends have become
family. Standing at the front door, the “goodbyes” can take quite a while,
still talking and laughing while the hostess bundles leftover desserts and
maybe a bone or two for Fido. We hate to see our guests leave and we always remember
to say, “Ya’ll come back now real soon, ya hear?”
EXCERPT:
“Tinker Bell, we need to talk.” Nick
caught up with Marabelle on the courts the next afternoon shortly after the
gala committee meeting. She was in the middle of running drills for the team.
She growled in his direction like a feral cat, but that didn’t deter him. He
opened the gate to court one and forged ahead.
“I have nothing to say to you.” She continued
to feed balls like a machine, with a death grip on her racket.
He watched the boys hitting behind the
baseline. “Now, honey, is that any way to talk to your intended?”
“Get back on your court and keep drilling,”
she ordered the boys as some of them started to gawk and work their way over to
him. She threw her racket in the basket of balls and grabbed his arm to pull
him off the court.
Nick allowed himself to be turned and then
stopped. “Where’re we going, Thumbelina? Behind the bleachers to neck?”
“Fat chance. Away from the courts. Those boys
have a fanboy crush on you, and I don’t want them to hear us.”
Nick strolled next to her toward the
bleachers. “I think their crush is on you, not me.”
Marabelle stopped, eyes snapping as she dug
her small fists into her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…those teenage boys have the hots for
their tennis coach.”
Marabelle’s eyebrows shot so far up they got
lost under her tennis hat. “Are you insane?” She put up both hands. “Don’t
answer that. What kind of fiancé are you? You don’t write; you don’t call. I’m
sitting on pins and needles here. This charade has gone on long enough,” she
whispered fiercely.
Nick bit back a grin. “Awww, it’s only been
two days. Have you been missing me?”
“Of course not. That’s not what I meant.” Nick
started to chuckle. “I don’t think I can keep up this lie. In case you didn’t
notice, those committee members want to lynch me,” she said, eyes flashing.
“They’re very upset that the man of their dreams has taken himself off the
market and gotten engaged to me.”
Nick had shown up at the meeting unannounced,
and walked in on complete pandemonium with a lot of hysteria thrown on top.
He’d managed to settle everyone down. Pledging a shitload of money will do
that. Marabelle should be kissing his ass for saving hers.
“And that’s a problem because…” Nick shrugged.
“Because now the entire committee thinks I’m a
slut. Hazel Cartwright asked how long I’d been ‘boinking’ you.”
“Really? Well maybe we should—”
“Look, can’t we pretend we had a big
falling-out and broke up? I’ll tell everyone you dumped me for…for Jennifer Aniston. That’s totally
plausible.”
Nick hated to burst Marabelle’s bubble, but he
needed her more than she needed him. Marty Hackman loved the idea of his
“engagement” and told Nick not to fuck it up…his
exact words. And Nick had no intentions of disappointing the gruff,
cigar-chewing owner of the Cherokees. If he asked Nick to join hands and sing
Joni Mitchell songs, then he would do exactly that.
Nick placed his hand over his heart. “Tinker
Bell, I’m wounded. Besides, Jennifer and I didn’t get along all that well.”
“You’ve actually dated Jennifer Aniston?”
Marabelle drew back as her mouth formed a perfect O.
“We went out a few times. What’s the real
problem here? I think the committee bought our story. We had them eating out of
our hands.”
“Eating out of your hand.
Look, it’s time we go our separate ways.” Marabelle ticked off on her fingers.
“You do what you do best…date
groupies. And I’ll do what I do
best…make my mother’s life miserable. It works.”
Nick gave an exaggerated sigh and rubbed the
back of his neck. “Anybody ever tell you you have no sense of adventure? You
need to get out more.”
“I’m adventuresome. I’m all about adventure.
Adventure is my middle name.”
Nick shook his head. “Huh-uh. My mind is made
up. We’re engaged, and you’re just going to have to accept it. The sooner you
do, the sooner we get to the good stuff.” He waggled his eyebrows at her
scowling face.
“How can someone so gorgeous be so wicked and
depraved?” Marabelle wondered aloud. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own
size?”
“Honey, I’m not picking on you. I’m playing
with you.” Nick allowed his gaze to roam over the tennis sweats swallowing her
petite body. “I can’t wait to play doctor and get to the part where I undress
you,” he said in a husky voice, moving in close and invading her space.
“Oh my God…you’re impossible.”
“Sh-h-h, you’re drawing a crowd.” Nick pointed
at nobody over her head.
Marabelle whipped around to see who was
listening, and Nick took advantage by gathering her in his arms.
“Marabelle, honey, stop fighting. Trust me.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and lifted her up on her toes.
Then he kissed her silly. Or did she kiss him
silly? Because the second his lips met hers, he forgot what they were arguing
about. He’d never had to work this hard to get a girl on board. Frustrated
didn’t begin to describe his feelings. Maybe he was losing his touch. He lifted
his head, and Marabelle’s whacked expression matched his. Nah.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he
murmured.
Marabelle lowered herself and licked her
bottom lip as if tasting him there. “Mmm. Okay. We’ll pretend. But only when others are around. And no
sex.” She narrowed her eyes to slits. “I’m no groupie. I
worship only from afar. It’s safer that way.”
He pressed another hard kiss to her lips,
wishing he could scoop her up in his arms and take her home. “Get back to work.
I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah, right,” she mumbled. Nick watched as
she trotted back to the courts, wondering how he was going to survive the next
few months.
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