The Hunter, an all-new must-read standalone contemporary romance from USA Today bestselling author L.J. Shen is coming May 11th and we have your FIRST look!
“Sailor Brennan?” the man—not boy—asked flatly, his eyes raking me head to toe like I was a call girl he’d just opened his door for and discovered was not up to his standards.
I felt my body stiffening in defense and shook my head, ridding myself of the weird hold his looks had on me.
“Yeah.” I reared my head back so I could take more of him in, and also because I couldn’t tell if the need to head-butt him would arise. This guy was a complete stranger, after all. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Hunter Fitzpatrick.” He pointed at himself, his smirk a perfect, well-practiced half-moon with the right amount of teeth-to-dimple ratio.
I blinked at him, waiting for further explanation. “And…?” I frowned when it became obvious his statement was also meant to serve as some sort of clarification.
His eyes inched wider in surprise, but he soon arranged his features back into a flaccid expression and cleared his throat.
“Can we talk somewhere?”
“We are talking somewhere.” I took my AirPods out, dropping them into my front pocket. “Right here. And if you don’t tell me what it’s about, I’m afraid I’ll have to turn around, get into my car, and drive away.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to block your way out of here, if you do that.” He dragged his fingers through his tresses, each golden hair submitting to the movement, like a gust of wind swiping a wheat field.
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Boston’s debauched elite is going up in flames, and it’s the Fitzpatrick family that set it on fire.
I didn’t mean to star in a sex tape, okay?
It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds.
It just happened.
Now my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston’s nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan.
The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family’s oil company.
Little does she know, that’s not the only pipe I’ll be laying…
I didn’t want this gig, okay?
But the deal was too sweet to walk away from.
I needed the public endorsement; Hunter needed a nanny.
Besides, what’s six months in the grand scheme of things?
It’s not like I’m in danger of falling in love with the appallingly gorgeous, charismatic gazillionaire who happens to be one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors.
No. I will remain immune to Hunter Fitzpatrick’s charm.
Even at the cost of losing everything I have.
Even at the cost of burning down his kingdom.