Indulge your weekend away with ~ Flirting to Win~ Natalie Anderson

Today is our last day to Indulge in our reading weekend, but you will have til next Friday to enter to win these awesome books we have featured this "Indulgent Weekend."

Entangled Publishing has put together an terrific anthology with Flirting to Win! Three great stories in this one book by author Natalie Anderson.

FLIRTING TO WIN
by: Natalie Anderson

 
Genre: Category – Contemporary Romance
Length: 360 pages
Release Date: August 2012
Imprint: Indulgence

Bargain in Bronze

If you can’t take the heat…

Entrepreneur Libby Harris’s specialty is making her famous muesli. So when an Olympic hopeful invites her to his flat to make her delicious cereal, she’s bewildered when his brother Jack walks in, accusing her of trying to ruin his brother’s career. Libby has every intention of staying single, but with Jack around, no way can she suppress the personal pleasure she’s long denied herself.

Investment banker extraordinaire Jack Barnes’s attraction to Libby is instantaneous, but he’s raised his two siblings after their parents died in an accident, and it’s been all work and no play for as long as he can remember. He can’t let down his guard now—not when his brother is so close to the gold. But keeping Libby busy and out of his brother’s life challenges every ounce of his self-control.

Until now…

Neither wants a relationship, and though they can’t deny their incredible chemistry, Libby and Jack agree that what they have is temporary. So when things start to sizzle between them, will they be able to take the heat?

Seduction in Silver

A limited engagement…

For two weeks Nina Breslin had passed an enticing stranger when catching the Baker Street Tube to go to work. So utterly sexy, and enticingly foreign, she figures he’s eons out of her league—until the day he makes an outrageous proposal.

Dr. Eduardo Ruiz needs a break from the heart-breaking reality of his job. So when he finally introduces himself to the vivacious woman he’s been admiring, he quickly realizes they could help each other with their sticky situations…and have great fun in the process.

They agree to an outrageous plan. For one night only, she’ll masquerade as his girlfriend to appease his overzealous family members, and he’ll accompany her to meet with her ex-fiancé’s friends, pretending to be her attentive lover. Can they play by their own rules, or will they succumb to the pull of seduction?

Gamble in Gold

The one that got away…

Seven years have passed since shy Lexie Peterson had her heart trampled by her teenage crush. When she comes face to face with him in London, she vows to stay strong against his charms. But there’s something about the man who has always made the impossible seem possible.

When Luke Marchetti walks into his flat to find Lexie in a negligee, all he can think of is having a little flirt and fling. But sweet, caring Lexie is all grown up now, and her determination to keep him at a distance makes him realize she deserves more than he can offer.

One kiss when they were younger ignited a passion that lasted seven long years. But is it enough to entice the two to take a gamble on love?

Excerpt:

© 2012 Natalie Anderson

Chapter One

No one could concentrate on dicing a million dried apricots in a place like this. Libby Harris sure couldn’t. Instead she gazed around the immaculate kitchen and laughed—again. She was here because he loved her muesli so much he’d begged her to come to his home and make him some specially. Could the day get any better?

Frankly, after the last three weeks, she’d take all the joy from this she could. Even if no one else ever knew—even if she never made another batch again—at least she was helping someone one last time. And not just anyone either.

She glanced at Apricot Mountain and decided it would still be there in a few minutes—a quick peek about wouldn’t offend, right?

She all but skipped as she gave in to the urge to explore. The next room gave visual confirmation that it was indeed his apartment. Most others would use it as a living room, but here it was stripped bare of carpet. On top of the long, polished floorboards sat three rowing machines, a weights machine, a treadmill, a stationary bike, and a few other scary bits of equipment that she didn’t recognize but was sure would be pure torture to use. He could charge money at the door and offer it as a private training facility. If he succeeded in his goal at the Games, people would pay squillions just to see him—he’d be the most wanted, highest-paid speaker on the after dinner circuit. But he wasn’t in it for the money, she understood that. And looking at this apartment, it was obvious he didn’t need the money.

The floor to ceiling windows offered an amazing view over the park. She crossed the floor and opened one of them, stepping out onto the narrow railed balcony—recent events had cemented a need for her to have an alternate escape route. The warm air breezed over her skin and she heard the gentle “pop pop” of tennis balls bouncing off rackets.

London in summer—strawberries, Pimms, strolls in the park—for that half-second she forgot her troubles and lived in the light, happy moment.

Beyond the park, the ultimate goal was visible. That wide ribbon of water curved through the city, flanked on either bank by beautiful buildings, both old and new. And adorning the scene everywhere were the signs, the bunting, the symbols of anticipation. Sporting glory would be just up the river. She breathed in deep, gazing out in adoration at the view. Brilliant, sear-your-eyeballs sunlight glinted off the windows of the buildings that stretched for miles. It was beautiful and no matter what her future held, she loved this city.

“Who are you?”

Libby jumped, spinning so fast she nearly ended up over the balcony. She quickly regained her balance, stepping into the room and staring in the direction of the booming, male voice. Blinded by the dazzling sunlight, she couldn’t see him clearly. But she knew from the size of silhouette, the guy striding towards her wasn’t national lightweight rowing favorite, Tom Barnes.

She dragged a breath into crunched lungs. “Who are you?”

“No, that was my question.” He kept walking, heavy-footed, assured. “I’m supposed to be here.”

“So am I.” She lifted her chin, defiantly sending out some attitude despite her mad blinking as she tried to restore sight.

“If you’re legit, what’s with the knife?” He came to a halt, sarcasm incarnate.

Startled, Libby clenched her fist—and felt the handle. OMG, she’d forgotten she had the small knife with her. How embarrassing. And he thought she was going to—what—threaten him? No way. Had he not noticed she was about a quarter of his size?

“You shouldn’t carry a weapon, especially as shakily as that. You’ll only be overpowered and have it used against you.” He lectured like he was addressing a bunch of school kids before they hit an after-prom party.

The unwanted advice tweaked her nerves but she also relaxed. He could hardly be a threat with that paternalistic tone. Well, she was no child, and while she might not have muscles, she had a mouth. “What makes you think you could get it off me?”

“Size and strength,” he answered easily, still a giant shadow, his features indeterminate because of the black spots dancing in front of her as her eyes took too long to adjust to the relative dimness of the room.

“Maybe I have speed,” she countered with faux confidence. “Maybe I grew up in a circus troupe and I’m an amazing knife thrower. Maybe you should be really worried right now because I have incredibly accurate aim.”

“I’d say that would be incredible.” More than a hint of laughter lightened his response. “Tell you what, I promise not to hurt you, if you promise not to hurt me. Deal?”

Libby didn’t have much choice—as quick as her mouth could be, her brain wasn’t giving her any more ammo.

“What is it you’re after, anyway?” he asked. “The most valuable thing in here is the rowing machine on the left, but I can’t see you lifting that easily.”

She supposed she might look like a burglar in her skinny black jeans, slim-fit black tee, black canvas sneakers, and tight, efficient ponytail that kept her hair out of her face and away from her food prep.

“You’re in my home,” he said firmly. “Why?”

She shook her head. “This isn’t your place.”

“No?” he asked unbelievingly. “Then whose is it?”

“Tom Barnes.”

Finally, after her five-hundredth blink, full Technicolor was restored.

Oh hell. She knew who he was. She’d seen his picture in the paper when Tom had won the European champs only a few months ago. There’d been a picture of Tom with his siblings—the pretty, petite younger sister and the older brother. The drop dead gorgeous older brother that Libby and her workmates had all taken a second, third, and fourth look at. Rowing star Tom Barnes might be cute and heroic, but his big brother was all hunk and most definitely wicked looking.

Jack Barnes. She even remembered his name.

Yeah, her retinas burned more now than when she’d been sun-struck mere seconds ago. He was the most gorgeous thing outside of air-brushed men’s underwear ad fakery. His coloring was sharp—dark hair and piercing blue eyes compared to the boyish Tom’s light brown tones and warm hazel eyes. Jack was taller, harder, sharper featured, and the cynical suspicion in his eyes just added to that aura of edge. And right now, with his brows pulled together and his narrowed gaze riveted on her, he simply looked dangerous.

“He invited me here,” she said in a breathy rush. Tom had been so enthusiastic when she’d said yes, he’d pumped a fist in the air. It didn’t seem like his brother was about to do the same.

“I can imagine he did,” Jack Barnes answered with a dry drawl. “But I can’t imagine he’d want you to walk around the place with a knife drawn. Doesn’t seem like his style.”

Heat swarmed from her belly to every extremity. It was hardly a knife, and to be busted snooping? By him of all gorgeous people? “I’m working in the kitchen. I just came in here to—”

“Nose around.”

“I thought I heard a noise,” she invented, running her hand down the side of her jeans. “Must have been you.”

“You’re quite good at making up stories.” He took a leisurely step closer but something in his stance still spelled aggression. “Are you a reporter? One prepared to do anything for a scoop?”

“No—”

“How did you get in?”

“With a key. I—”

“And the alarm code.”

“Yes, I—”

“Tom gave them to you?”

She gave up on speech and simply nodded. It was impossible to answer in more detail given the way he kept rapping out the questions. He was worse than the hideous insurance agent she’d dealt with—letting her have nothing but “yes” or “no” options.

His expression hardened, along with every muscle in his body. The air crackled around him. “You’re meeting him here? Are you—”

“I’m just preparing the muesli for him, then I’m leaving the key on the table and walking out.” She talked long and loud and right over the top of him.

There was a pause. Had she finally silenced him?

He blinked. “You’re preparing the what for him?”

“Muesli.”

“Muesli?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she answered loftily, pleased she’d thrown him. “I make the muesli he likes.”

Jack Barnes threw back his head and laughed. Watching him, Libby’s pulse zipped to a punishing pace. What with the shock of being frightened by a stranger, followed by the surprise of him being so completely stunning, it was a wonder her heart hadn’t stopped all together. Weak hearts were in the family—both literally and emotionally—but Libby was determined to take care of hers. She mentally counted backward from ten and told herself he really wasn’t that gorgeous and she wasn’t going to pay any attention to the gleam in his eyes and the infectiousness of that low, rumbling laugh. She heard another mangled repeat of “muesli” in that offensive, disbelieving tone. Rolling her eyes, she waited for him to get over it.

“Are you the team dietician?” He finally sobered enough to speak, but he still wore half of a grin.

If only he’d stayed all cynical ice-man. Him smiling made it hard for her brain to retain operational status. She shook her head.

“Didn’t think so.” Now his smile vanished. “What’s your name?”

“Libby Harris.” She pulled it together and answered firmly. “And yours?” She wasn’t going to give him an ego trip by admitting she already knew who he was.

“Jack Barnes. I’m Tom’s older brother and this is my apartment.”

Of course it was. Libby shrank inside, hopelessly fighting the heat invading her face. She must look like a cherry tomato. “But Tom lives here.”

“When he’s in town, yes.” His answer was shorn of any lingering amusement.

Why hadn’t Tom explained it was his big, bad brother’s apartment he was sending her to? And why had she so cheekily looked around?

But it was too late now, all she could do was get the job done and leave. And okay maybe she ought to apologize for snooping. But she really didn’t want to—the guy seemed to feel superior enough already. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to what I was doing.”

Head held high, she walked across the floor—carefully leaving a four-foot firebreak between them. He turned and walked behind her. Now she felt so self-conscious it was a wonder she didn’t fall over her own feet. It was too unfair of him to be that hot in his faded jeans and white T-shirt. And did he have to watch her so super close all the time—like she was some world-threatening virus on a microscope slide?

“Actually, Libby Harris,” he murmured with toe-curling, intimate softness. “I’m afraid I do mind.”

Find Natalie Anderson at:

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 A LITTLE ABOUT ME 

 

Like many a modern day Mills & Boon author I have my Grandmother to thank for introducing me to the world of fabulously rich heroes, beautiful heroines and toe curling passion. As a teen I alternated between her Mills & Boons, Lucy Walkers, Georgette Heyers, Elizabeth Cadells, Mary Stewarts and Agatha Christies and the supposedly more 'serious' classics that were on our shelves, mixed in with everything. But I must admit it was either the romance or detective stories that I'd turn to on those days when I wanted a relaxing read. I'd read that Georgette Heyer for the fortieth time - the old friend who still makes me laugh.

I wrote a lot of stories as a kid - mainly Agatha Christie rip offs with a touch of romance - part of me would still love to write a great detective story. I love genre fiction - I love knowing where the story's going to end up, but having no idea how it's going to get there. And I confess - I frequently read the end of a book first. I have to know what happens, then I can sit back and enjoy the story because I know it's all going to be alright!

Age 12 I went to a 'Young Authors Conference' in which we had to read an excerpt from a work in progress and I remember cutting mine very short because there was a *romantic moment* coming up and I was too embarrassed to read it aloud. Now that romantic moment was the epitome of innocence - the romantic moments I write today are anything but and there's still no way I could read them aloud! I write them for other people to read.

I did an arts degree majoring in Music and English before doing a Masters in Library Studies. But while I'm officially a 'librarian' I worked as a 'researcher' in law firms and corporate banks - heading overseas for the obligatory OE ('Overseas Experience') not long after finishing the Masters.

I worked in London for a couple of years where I met the love of my life. He's a fellow Kiwi - much to our respective parents' relief - and yes, after another couple of years in London and Edinburgh we did return home to New Zealand to settle down and have babies - four in five years. Numbers three and four are twins. Life is busy. Baby number two (the boy) decided not to sleep. Ever. So I needed some form of escapism - and started writing. I discovered the Nanowrimo bible "No Plot, No Problem" in the local library. Yes, I thought. I've always wanted to write a novel. I can do this. But what? A romance of course: Entertaining! Flirty! Fun! And writing it sure was. Then I wrote another, and another... now I'm hooked.

I was fortunate enough to sell my first submission - right when the twins were born - making life even busier! Check out the telly interview I did and read a newspaper article to get an idea of what that crazy time was like.

Life these days consists of parenting, parenting, parenting and dreaming up gorgeous heroes and heroines who have fun, feisty affairs - what fun!

NEWSFLASH! I just did another telly interview - you can see it here! (*filmed Feb 23 2010).

 

 Thanks for Indulging this weekend away with us!!

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