Genre: Contemporary Romance

Kyla Summers has been offered the opportunity of a lifetime to get her cosplay business off the ground, and only one thing stands in her way. She needs someone to take over the auto shop, and there’s only one person she can think of to call…

Jericho Salomon hasn’t been back in his home town since he joined a biker gang and rode off nine years ago. When his best friend’s kid sister calls begging for help, he knows that he owes the family a debt and he intends to pay. This is easier said than done once he finds that the kid is all grown up…

She needs a pair of skillful hands. He needs to keep his hands off. When sparks begin to fly, can they keep things strictly business, or will their hearts get hopelessly tangled? No more games, it’s time to play for keeps.

Excerpt

There was a lull, and she strode through the open bays and down the small hallway to the office. “You on the phone?” she called.

“No.”

She gritted her teeth, storming in. “Billy, dammit, please tell me you didn’t take on any new customers,” she said from the doorway. “I’m slammed enough as it is.”

“No problem! As it happens, I’ve got the answer to all your problems right here,” he said, with his usual broad grin.

She wanted to strangle him. “Unless you’ve magically produced a mechanic from out of your butt, I sincerely doubt that.”

Billy burst out laughing, and she heard a low responding chuckle. Surprised, she stepped further into the office. She hadn’t realized there was anyone else there.

Oh, God. Don’t be a customer.

She stepped past the high filing cabinet, just as the other person stood up – and kept standing up, or so it seemed. The man unfolded himself from the rickety office chair, and he looked almost seven feet tall.

She goggled. She couldn’t help it. Jet black hair, wavy, curling at the ends of his collar and brushing his shoulders. Which, by the way, were incredible. Holy hell, broad shoulders. The guy was yoked. He was wearing a black T-shirt that said MACHINISTS with a skull-and-crossbones, where the crossbones were wrenches. It stretched over a chest that looked carved out of marble. He was also wearing riding leathers.

Holy shit. Her mouth went dry as the Sahara out of sheer, unrelenting thirst.

Her eyes roamed some more. She needed to stop staring at the guy’s bod, she realized. She was objectifying. She was embarrassing herself. There was an off-chance she might be struck blind by his sheer, unrelenting sexiness.

She slid her gaze back up, over what she figured was a washboard flat six-pack, and past tanned, muscular forearms. Up to his face. Dark eyes, a brown so deep it was almost black. High, chiseled cheekbones. And a smile that…

Wait a minute.

Her jaw dropped. “Jericho? Is that you?”

His smile widened.

“In the flesh, baby.”

She stared for just a second longer.

Then, like a bullet out of a gun, she launched herself at him.

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About Cathy Yardley

Cathy Yardley is an award-winning author of romance, chick lit, and urban fantasy, who has sold over 1.2 million copies of books for publishers like St. Martin's, Avon, and Harlequin. She writes fun, geeky, and diverse characters who believe that underdogs can make good and sometimes being a little wrong is just right. She likes writing about quirky, crazy adventures, because she's had plenty of her own: she had her own army in the Society of Creative Anachronism; she's spent a New Year's on a 3-day solitary vision quest in the Mojave Desert; she had VIP access to the Viper Room in Los Angeles. Now, she spends her time writing in the wilds of East Seattle, trying to prevent her son from learning the truth of any of said adventures, and riding herd on her two dogs (and one husband.)

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