We are proud to present Train Wreck by Elise Faber!
This is a standalone contemporary romance with a “happy ever after” ending.
Title: Train Wreck
Author: Elise Faber
Release Date: May 31, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance (standalone,
happy ever after)
Editors: Kay Springsteen, Julie Sherwood
Cover Designer: Jena Brignola
Tour Presented by: TripleA Publishing
Services
train
wreck
noun
1. A
chaotic or disastrous situation.
2. An utter catastrophe or mess.
3. A devastating calamity or source of trouble.
4. Pepper O’Brien.
As the daughter of a famed film producer, Pepper
O’Brien is Hollywood royalty.
Also, her life sucks.
Because, unfortunately for her, the old adage is
true: money can’t buy everything—including grace, true love, or the ability to
not screw up every single opportunity her life has brought her.
After her latest disaster, Pepper moves across
the country to start over but, as usual, her life has other plans, namely in
the form of Derek Cashette, her former teenage crush and now ridiculously
handsome friend of her older brother.
Derek is determined to salvage the train wreck
of her life and Pepper’s determined not to let him. Her life is her problem
and, dammit, why can’t she be her own hero?
But sometimes fate has other plans. Or maybe
it’s hormones. Especially when her rescuer comes with a killer smile, a chest
Thor would be jealous of, and a butt that any girl just wants to—
#1
The
door was open a crack and she paused before entering the hall, listening hard.
Had he left?
But
no, she heard the rumble of the dryer just off the kitchen, a soft curse as
something clinked in the kitchen.
“Suck
it up, Pepper,” she whispered and strode into the hall.
And
if her footsteps slowed to a crawl outside the kitchen then that was just
because the sight of Derek standing in nothing more than a towel as he raided
her fridge had frozen her in place.
She
must have made a noise.
Hell, it was probably a gasp. His body clothed was one thing. His body in just
a towel . . .
Holy pigs in a blanket.
Funnily, the dimples
were the last thing on her mind. Or at least the ones that graced his cheeks .
. . err, his northern cheeks. The ones winking at her from the top of the
towel, hinting at the biteable ass beneath? That set was definitely front and
center in her brain.
He spun around
and—freaking rainbows, kittens, and cotton candy—the front was as good as the
back.
And the towel. Thank
you sweet baby Jesus for that puny excuse of a towel.
Long limbs, a V above
his hips, flat abs, a squeezable set of pecs.
Mine, her mind said.
Grabby hands all day long.
“Pepper?” he asked.
“Are you—?”
No words. Her tongue
wasn’t capable of them at the moment. Not when it was glued to the roof of her
mouth, not when every nerve in her body had come to screaming attention and was
demanding that she launch herself at him.
But she managed to
restrain herself.
She didn’t jump Derek
or mark him, didn’t stake an obvious claim to the universe that he was hers.
She was a lady. She had
restraint.
Instead, she closed the
distance between them and snatched the towel from his waist.
See? She could control herself.
Then Pepper glanced
down. “Oh.”
One of his hands shot
out, covering himself with a half-gallon carton of milk. “It’s drafty
in front of the fridge.
Cold—”
Pepper didn’t let him
finish. Because her “oh” hadn’t been in disappointment. No, the exclamation had
been one of reverence. The man did it for her. Everywhere.
Stomach bug? What
stomach bug? Weak? Hell no, she wasn’t. Or not any longer.
Her blood pumped,
adrenaline surged. She could lift a car, a building.
She managed restraint
before. Now that restraint was gone. Now she launched herself into Derek’s
arms.
#2
“Your
allergies make you burst into sudden tears?” he asked when she sniffed again.
“At
the sight of you?” She glared. “Yes. Sudden and unexplained tears are common.”
A drop of moisture hung on the edge of her
lashes.
Derek wanted to reach
forward to brush it away.
Stupid.
Pepper jumped to her
feet and turned for the house, leaving him standing on the deck feeling
incredibly unsure of himself.
“Well?”
She was in the doorway,
still glaring, still beautiful as hell.
He raised a brow.
“Well, come inside
already.”
He watched her as she
whirled around, her bright red hair fanning out behind her like a cape, drawing
his gaze down, down . . . too far down.
Derek swallowed, forced
his eyes away from the shorts so barely there they were nearly obscene.
This was a terrible
idea.
#3
It
was the lipstick that pushed him over the edge. Fire engine red. F*cking
kissable.
He reeled her in, silky skin beneath his palms,
soft curves against his chest, jasmine and vanilla in his nose.
He leaned down.
“Don’t.” A whisper. A plea.
His mouth was a centimeter from hers and those
four letters painted his lips. Moist breath. Hot air. She might as well already
be kissing him for how effectively that puff owned him.
“I shouldn’t,” he agreed.
“You shouldn’t.” Another breath, another chink
in what was fast-becoming a non-existent resistance to Pepper.
“I want—”
“No.”
Those emerald eyes were brimming with heat, her
skin was flushed, her body pressing against his.
But she’d said no.
And so he released her.
Pepper’s eyes slid closed, shuttering that
warmth, and she released a shaky breath. “I can’t, Derek.”
His body was on fire, but he nodded.
Eyes opened, sadness in place of desire. The
swap was a punch to the gut. “I could never be what you need.”
Gripping the shoes in one hand, Pepper turned
and ran barefoot down the beach.
She was gone so fast that she couldn’t have
heard him when he said, “I just need you to be you.”
Aside from writing bestselling romances,
Elise's passions are chocolate, Star Wars, and hockey (the order depending on
the day and how well her team, the Sharks, are playing).
She and her husband also play as much
hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical
date night is spent on the ice.
Elise is the mom to two exuberant boys
and is thoroughly addicted to Dancing with the Stars.
Connect with her on Facebook
(facebook.com/elisefaberauthor), Twitter (@faberelise), Instagram
(@elisefaber), or visit her on her website at www.elisefaber.com!
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