From the opening scene until the very last page, Shalvis has penned a fast-paced story filled with humor and a myriad of very real emotions that will entertain and delight readers. Mia Appleby has it all. A successful Los Angeles advertising executive, she lives the life of glamour to the fullest. From her designer clothing and shoes to her beautiful home, Mia has shaped her own destiny through her hard work, planning, and perseverance. She knows she should have stayed away from her new neighbor, but how could she resist?

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Clearly, he was a bit of a rebel, a bad boy, which meant he was a man after her own heart, and therein lay the problem. But truth be told, if anyone could have, it would have been one sexy, sharp, smart-mouthed Kevin McKnight. Oh, she knew his name. First and last. Just as well. Stinky feet. What was wrong with him? With a sigh, she drove the freeway with the precision of an air force bomber pilot. The skill was required in LA, especially at nine in the morning in rush-hour traffic.

As the air was already getting warm, she turned on the AC. By the time she entered the thirty-five-story glass-and-steel building that housed the advertising firm where she worked, she was ready. And when she stepped out onto the top floor, she smiled. Sophisticated, elegant. Cool, calm ice. Gen, the receptionist, waved at her. All around, the office buzzed. Phones rang; people moved, talked, wheeled, and dealed. She strode toward her department. She was a tall, willowy, creamy-skinned twenty-seven-year-old who resembled one hell of an expensive collectable porcelain doll.

She could have been a model, should have been a model, except for one thing. What she did like was organization, a fact that Mia was thankful for every single day of her life since Tess had come into it. Never one to pull punches, she eyeballed Mia while handing Tess a stack of files. Mia lifted a brow. Adrenaline suddenly pumped through Mia. The world kept spinning on its axis. Behind them a trio of assistants, all twenty-something and young and silly, were tittering over a computer screen. Fifties jazz came out of the sound system, fitting right in with the art deco theme of the office.

She felt like yelling Woo hoo! Tess bent down out of sight and came back up with a huge, lush green plant in a beautifully hand-painted clay pot. Do you think I should keep the plant out here? You know, to protect it? Everyone in the free advertising world wanted the Anderson account. Tess laughed and set down the plant to hug Mia.

I can handle him. Did your sweet little old lady neighbor enjoy the cookies I baked yesterday? Tess nabbed them first, holding them out of reach. Mia, knowing what was coming, sighed. Look, I just got the news of the year. Trying to remain excited here. Because I made them thinking you were being kind to old ladies. Except, of course, when you hassle me. And FYI, to get laid, you have to stop waiting for your prince and date. Especially with this impending Ted disaster. Busy day, as you know all too well.

Can I have my messages now? She had her standards, after all, and besides, being a serial one-night-stander was simply too dangerous in this day and age. Last night had been her first…break, as she thought of it, in a while. Wait a minute, why would I ask such a stupid question? You got his name. You never attach. Get gray hair with. Sit on the porch swing and tell stories about the good old days with. Tell me the truth. You grew up in a pod and were placed here on earth when you were twenty-two.

Take your damn messages. Mia looked at her, amused. Just stop. You worry far too much. Thanks for the messages. They were all at work on various projects, so she waved and moved on. So what? No reason to feel that twinge of guilt—no reason at all—just because Tess gave everything of herself, no holding back, whatever Mia needed at all times, including cookies. Damn it, Ted Stokes was in her office, lounging in her chair as a matter of annoying fact, leaning back, feet up as if he owned the place.

He was strong and tan, and when he smiled he flashed baby blue eyes and a dimple, melting hearts and dampening panties everywhere. Beneath that fun-loving exterior beat a cold, purposeful heart.

She set down the plant and gathered her bitchiness around her like a Gucci coat. She smiled through her teeth. She was going to keep the damn plant alive if it was the last thing she did. His own, of course. She did not smile back. With coworkers.

What do you say? Does never work for you?


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