Could Mr. Wrong really be Mr. Oh-So-Right?
We all like different types of men. Some women like bald men, running their fingers of a smooth round scalp, while others crave thick curly hair all over their men, head, chest, back. Some women like tall and thin men, while others like stocky men covered with muscles. Every women has a different idea of who her Mr. Right is and what traits he might possess, whether it’s a man who works with his hands, or a man who’s better with equations than car motors. Every woman has a different idea of what Mr. Right should look like, and that was the whole basis of my Naughty Holiday List series.
One night, five women, Callie, Mallory, Krista, Amy and Giselle, all write down what they want in a man. They create lists of everything they want in their Mr. Right, very different lists, detailing different needs, and wants. And throughout the course of their stories they’ve all found those men.
Put what if the men you want are not the men you think you should want? That’s the issue that Giselle has to deal with in Dirty Work. She wants Garrett. He’s a working man, with oil under his fingernails and grease on his face. But after having several relationships with these kind of men, Giselle thinks she should move on and start dating a different kind of men. Men who spend more time sitting at a computer and working with numbers than car engine parts.
But can you deny who you’re attracted to? Can you really change the type of man that is your Mr. Right? And will Garrett give Giselle that chance? To find out, you’ll have to read Dirty Work now available with Siren Publishing.
Blurb
As her friend's wedding approaches, Giselle Rossini feels more discouraged than ever. She's not where she wanted to be in life. She loves her job, but longs for something else to fill her days.
When she walks into her ex-sweetheart Garrett at her school, declaring he's the new auto shop teacher and he wants her back, Giselle finds her last refuge quickly vanishing. Years ago she loved Garrett, but all he did was break her heart and prove to her men are all the same.
Garrett Montgomery never stopped loving Giselle. And now he's back, determined to work his way into her life. He's not surprised Giselle isn't ready to welcome him back into her arms, but he'll do anything to earn her trust again. Garrett's never been afraid of a little hard work, especially when it includes some dirty talking and getting naughty in the backseat of a car.
But can he break through Giselle's perfect impregnable shell and into her heart, or will the labor be too much for him to withstand?
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Excerpt
Giselle stared down at the list. The homemade paper was rough in her hands. The smell of pine and rose petals wafted from the page. The bright holiday ornaments and snowflakes stared up at her mockingly.
Ever since she’d created the list with her friends nine months ago the items cataloged on the holiday paper taunted her. It had seemed like such a fun idea, writing lists of the qualities your dream man would possess, with the hope that man would then find his way to your life. All her friends had been successful with it. One by one they’d all fallen under the spell. Each finding their own version of happiness. All of them, except her.
She dropped the list to her desk, right beside the invitation for Callie and Eric’s wedding, releasing a deep sigh. Only another day until the big event and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get excited about it. At least not as excited as she should be. She was the party planner, the event organizer. She should be in her element, but it felt forced, like she was going through the motions.
All her friends had found happiness with someone they loved. She should be happy for them. And she was. But it didn’t stop the pang in her heart that throbbed with her own loneliness. Or the quiet voice in the back of her head that wondered if there was something wrong with her, something unlovable.
She’d never thought she’d be the one whose life revolved around work. She thought she’d be married by now, maybe have a few kids. But life hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, she was at the school three days before the new year began, categorizing her supplies, and determining what she needed to order before the curriculum began. At least her students benefited. Most of them could out cook Rachel Ray with all she’d taught them.
How had she become this person? She was pretty sure she hadn’t always been this focused on work. It certainly wasn’t who she wanted to be, but she had no clue how to change it.
Giselle shoved the last of the flour, sugar, salt and baking soda back into the cabinet and noted the remaining ingredients she needed for the blueberry muffins she always made the first day of class with her Home Ec students, before grabbing her purse and heading toward the door. She’d promised to meet Callie early to finish decorating the pavilion in the park where she was to be married. Tonight was the rehearsal dinner and Giselle had promised to make sure the event went off without a hitch so Callie could enjoy herself.
Not that she had a choice. No one else would be able to help Callie as well as she could. She couldn’t stand the idea of having to spend all day tomorrow looking at someone else’s lopsided flower arrangements or mismatched table linens. She shuddered at the thought of her best friend drinking out of plastic champagne glasses.
The sound of her heels clicking across the floor echoed through the empty halls. The rest of the teachers were off enjoying what remained of their summer vacation before the horde of hyper kids, helicopter parents and school board demands usurped all their time. Every teacher with a life, that is.
Giselle turned the corner, and the clang of metal coming from the auto shop lab piqued her interest. She smiled. She wasn’t the only one without a life.
They must have hired the new teacher. After Mr. Miller retired, James, one of her best friends’ husbands and the middle school vice principal, had revealed they’d decided to go a different way with the position. He mentioned hiring someone with less teaching experience and more real life experience. Giselle assumed that meant someone willing to work for less. Given how their school budget continued to dwindle, she didn’t blame him.
Curiosity getting the best of her, she snuck a peek toward the shop. The door hung wide open, giving her a good view of the cluttered room.
The new teacher was bent over, picking up a tool beside the broken down Ford Taurus they used for the kids to practice on. Her stomach flip flopped and her temperature rose as she stared at the delicious sight of the new shop teacher before her. She’d have to compliment James on the new hire. He’d made a very nice choice.
Giselle leaned back against the door jamb to admire the picture before her. She didn’t often ogle men, she just wasn’t that type of girl, but the sight before her was too good to ignore. His worn jeans cupped a very nice, well-formed ass. His thick masculine body would have all the female teachers interested in learning how to change their own oil.
She’d always loved manly guys, men who worked with their hands. It had gotten her into trouble more times than she could recall. She’d tried to be attracted to a man who spent more time behind a computer screen and reading books than he spent with grease beneath his fingernails, but so far it hadn’t worked. Yet another reason she was here today, instead of curled in bed with someone special.
He stood and Giselle smiled, walking further into the room. Now seemed as good a time as any to introduce herself to her new coworker. Maybe she’d offer to show him around the school, introduce him to all the other teachers. Her mood lightened and a small smile leapt to her face. Didn’t most people meet their significant other at work? Maybe the universe was finally working for her. Maybe this was her chance to meet her future husband. The next wedding they attended could be hers.
His back came into view, a dark red T-shirt spread across his broad shoulders. His blond hair spiked around his head, perfect for running her fingers through. She hoped he had brown eyes. She’d always been a sucker for a pair of dark eyes.
He turned around and Giselle gasped, all the air leaving her lungs in one large gust. She reached her hand out, grabbing hold of the doorframe to keep upright. The edges of her vision darkened.
“Hi, Dixie.” He grinned at her. His big foolish smirk knotted her insides, the drawl from his Georgia roots highlighting the nickname he’d given her over eight years ago, on their first date. “It’s great to see you again.”
Guest Blogger Willa Edwards
