Thanks for hosting my cover reveal and giveaway! I am thrilled to be here! And now, let me introduce you to the Queen of the Universe...
TV writer extraordinaire Lola Scott is about to lose her show because she still hasn't cast the role of Sam Destry, the dark, brooding bounty hunter. But then the PERFECT man for the part walks into her office—Arlen Black. One problem, though. He's not an actor there to audition. Nope. He's the handyman Lola hired to renovate her historic Hollywood house.
No problem. Lola gleefully offers him the dream job of a lifetime. No dice—the stoic recluse in a tool belt wants nothing to do with Lola and her show. But Lola doesn't give up. She goes after Arlen using every trick she can think of, but her Hollywood machinations just bounce right off him.
Why can't she get a bead on this guy?
A scrambling Lola is about to get the ax when Arlen surprises her socks off and signs on to play Sam. She has no idea why he changed his mind, but she doesn't have time to stop and think about it. Not when she has to get him camera-ready, suppress her totally unprofessional attraction to him, and hide from the studio exec, her million-dollar leading lady, and the world at large that her ace-in-the-hole leading man is really just her sexy handyman.
When the stellar pilot garners media accolades, Hollywood gossip sinks its claws into Arlen. One paparazzi photo threatens to destroy everything he holds dear, and at last Lola understands why he upended his life to do the show and save her career. Now she's got to move heaven and Earth not to save the show … but to save Arlen.
What happens when TV maven Lola mistakes Arlen the handyman for an actor auditioning for the role of her brooding bounty hunter...
“The image is perfect,” I practically coo. “Very Aragorn meets Wolverine.” I look him up and down, then slowly start to circle him. “I like the beard,” I tell him. “More than five-o'clock shadow, but clipped close enough to see the planes of your face and the cut of your jaw. Good choice.”
He backs away from me, turning to stay face to face with me. “Lady ...”
“You've got that roguish, brooding thing going,” I murmur, getting lost in the intense, bordering-on-angry, look on his face. “Those dark eyes are killer.”
His lips part but he doesn't say anything. Score. The guy can really pull off silence.
“Hmmm,” I say, considering.
“What now? Jesus, what the hell is going on?”
I look up into his face. He seems like he seriously just fell off the truck, making leverage points useless with him. This blade runner with the soul of Pollyanna just dropped into my lap and I have to handle him right.
“I just want to make sure you're okay with partial nudity.” I say.
“Relax ...” I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “I just mean taking your shirt off. Maybe once in a while. But nothing gratuitous. Only when necessary.”
“Look, I don't care how hot it is, I don't strip at work.”
“When you see how much money is in it for you, I think you'll change your mind. And there's no sex. Not at first, anyway.”
“That's it.” He spins on his heel and heads to the stairwell.
“Wait!” I call, rushing to get ahead of him, blocking the door to the exit. “It's okay if you're afraid you won't look perfect. Colin Firth totally panicked like that on the set of Circle of Friends. We'll get you on a daily fitness regimen so that when the time comes, you'll have nothing to be shy about.”
“Listen,” he begins, his voice galvanized with more authority than I'm used to from auditioning actors. “You need to get out of my way and let me leave. You've clearly got some guy-in-a-tool-belt fantasy, and I'm telling you up front, I'm not interested.”
My head snaps back the tiniest fraction before I stop it. “Tool belt? You mean, like, to carry a gun?”
“A GUN?” His eyes are almost popping out of his head.
“Yes,” I say, wondering what in God's name Ray—or Brian—is telling everyone about this part!
“I'm outta here.” He pushes past me and races down the stairs.
I follow him, my heart racing. I burst through the door into the sunshine and sprint to catch up to him. “I don't get it,” I pant. “You're a bounty hunter. Bounty hunters carry guns sometimes.”
He looks at me, his brows all scrunched like he's trying to figure out a trig problem. “Did you say, 'bounty hunter?'”
“Yes, bounty hunter. Sam Destry, the bounty hunter next door.”
And just like that, relief sweeps the tension right out of his features and he almost smiles. He rubs a hand across his face. “That explains a lot. You've got the wrong guy. My name's not Sam. It's Arlen. Arlen Black.”
When she was a kid in Scranton, Pennsylvania, Geralyn
Vivian Ruane Corcillo dreamed of one day becoming the superhero Dyna
Girl. So, she did her best and grew up to rescue animals and constantly
pick up litter. At home, she loves to kick back by watching black &
white movies, British mysteries, and the New York Giants. Corcillo lives
in a drafty old house in Hollywood with her husband Ron, a guy who's
even cooler than Kip Dynamite.
When a freak fast-food
accident almost kills scaredy-cat Lisa Flyte, she decides it's time to
get a backbone and really start living out loud. But how is a shrinking
violet like Lisa supposed to get tough all of a sudden after a lifetime
of watching from the couch? Jack Hawkins, that's how. When Lisa finds
out that the outdoor extremist from her MBA classes needs a clueless
urbanite to test his top-secret line of adventure gear for beginners,
she gets the most outlandish idea of her life: she will be his
undercover test dummy if he helps her become brave on their adventures
in the wild. They strike a deal. But can Lisa use her outdoor moxie to
become the alpha hero of her everyday life? Will she find the grit to
pursue a career she really wants or the nerve to stand up to her
bullying family? And will she get gutsy enough to go after Jack? He's a
man who's not afraid of anything...except maybe of falling for Lisa.
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Links for Geralyn Corcillo
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