Eric Rangeley is a cargo pilot with a passion for flipping houses. His latest purchase, a run-down restaurant, is crying for a makeover. The building is in such bad shape—much like Eric’s heart—that he and his best friend need an expert to help transform it into the town’s next hot spot.
 

Sam Falcon is an architect with a drive to design the perfect ambiance. After catching Eric off guard—he thought she’d be a man—her ability to know exactly what Eric wants for his restaurant makes her the perfect choice. Her ability to know exactly what Eric needs for his heart makes her his perfect soul mate.
 

But is Eric ready to have his heart in Sam’s hands?

Excerpt:

Dave let out a long whistle. “If that car’s any indication of this guy’s skills and taste, we’re in good shape.” He elbowed Eric in the ribs.

Nodding, Eric stepped off the stairs and moved toward the Mustang. He looked the car over like a child in a toy store, and Dave barked out a laugh. 

“Stop salivating, man,” he said. “It’s unprofessional.” 

Before Eric could tell Dave to stuff it, the driver side door opened, the last guitar notes winding down. Eric stopped walking as a black boot stepped out from the car into the dust.

A woman’s boot. 

“Your friend is right. Stop salivating. I don’t like drool on my wheels. It pisses me off.” 

Eric stood stone still as he gaped at the petite woman who had slid out of the car. A thick mane of curly, jet black hair surrounded a pale, but flawless face. The black tank top and blue jeans she wore over those black boots revealed a tight body. 

She hoisted a camouflage-print bag onto her shoulder as she closed the car door behind her. A well-toned bicep curved the arm that rested against the bag, and all Eric could do was stare. 

Pursing a set of crimson lips, she lowered her sunglasses to reveal steel blue eyes. 

“You’re still doing it,” she said. 

“What?” Eric felt as if he were waking from a dream, or had tripped into heaven, or had happened upon a goddess. 

“Salivating. Drooling. All over the place.” Her lips curled up at the corners. That simple change in her face made her look all the more…magical. Eric had never seen anyone like her. 

“You’ll excuse my associate here,” Dave cut in. “He’s not usually so socially inept.” Dave stepped around Eric and extended his hand. 

“Sam Falcon.” The woman accepted Dave’s hand and smiled. 

“Dave Reynolds.” 

“Aunt Reggie’s boss.” 

“Guilty as charged. Regina didn’t mention that you were—” 

“Female? It’s our little trick we like to play. Looks like we got your friend here good.” Sam glanced back at Eric, who hadn’t moved or said a word. 

Dave poked him. “Say hello to the nice lady, Eric.” He rolled his eyes at Sam. She laughed and the sound washed over Eric, stirring up something he’d buried deep inside for a couple of years now. He managed to clear his throat and take a step forward. 

“Eric Rangeley. Sorry.” He shifted his eyes to the car behind her. “Nice wheels.” Nice eyes. Nice legs. Nice…everything.