My sister’s best friend is going to drive me crazy before my stay here is over. She’s prettier than I remember, but she’s all sunshine and chatter, like she thinks we’re going to be besties while I’m here. Spoiler alert: we’re not. I’m here to secure a job and find a place to live, and in the meantime, I have no interest in palling around with Skye Stafford.
Then why did I kiss her? Probably the same reason I can’t get her off my mind. She’s completely different from any woman I’ve ever known, and to my regret, I can’t get enough of her. I have to keep my hands to myself, because I’d never forgive myself if I came between Chloe and Skye.
The Jane Thing is the next book in the Meet Cute Book Club series. This one is a roommate, best friend's sibling romance. It's Skye and Gideon's story. This one was just OK for me. I did think it was cute. I liked Skye more than I did Gideon. She was perky and smart. He kind of rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't really feel much chemistry between the two of them. I did like the ending, especially when Skye stocks up for herself. It's available on Kindle Unlimited, so give it a shot.
Excerpt
Copyright 2022
@Tracy Broemmer
“What are you
doing?”
Frame in one hand and my hammer in the other, I stop just inside my bedroom and look at Gideon.
“What’s it look like?”
My sarcasm flies out the window when he tips his head like he’s actually thinking about it. I feel the heat from his intense stare as it travels up over my black heels and bare legs and skinny gray pencil skirt. What had he called it last night? Corporate getup?
“Kinda like an eighties music video,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe porn.”
Stunned by his answer, I take half a second to wonder if I’m offended. The laugh pops out before I make up my mind. I hold out the hammer and twist it this way and that and finally shudder when I look back at him.
“I’m going to hang his picture.” I turn my back on him and put the frame and hammer down on my bed.
“Want help?”
I peek at him over my shoulder and shake my head. “No thanks.”
“Well, I mean, you can’t just hammer a nail in a wall and be done with it. You have to measure, so you’re not crooked.”
“I’m not crooked,” I promise him. I kick off my heels and lead him to the spot on the wall I’ve already measured and marked. “I did that first.”
Rather than look at the spot on the wall, Gideon studies me. Up close to him like this, I smell his cologne. Something woodsy but not overpowering. He also smells like old books or at least an old building—like the mix of paper and dust.
“Did you work late?” he asks me, and when I shake my head, he asks, “why are you still dressed like that?”
Wow. He really does have an issue with professional attire.
“Had a date,” I answer. I left my nail out on the counter, so I go to get it. When I come back in, Gideon’s looking around my room. My cheeks heat with embarrassment when I see a lacey black bra tossed over the nightstand. He looks at me again with narrowed eyes, as if he’s trying to work out if I brought my date home and slept with him and forgot to put my bra on when I got dressed again.
“A date.”
“Mm-hmm.” I stick the nail between my teeth and eye the spot I marked earlier with a pencil.
“With who?”
“Mel Kavanaugh.”
“Don’t know him.”
“No kidding.” I speak around the nail in my teeth and roll my eyes. “He works at the bank.”
“That your type?” I wouldn’t swear to it, but he sounds disappointed.
“Will you gimme the hammer?” Nail still between my teeth, I hold my hand out and nod my thanks when he puts the hammer on my palm. Taking the nail out of my teeth, I lean closer to the wall and tap it gently with the hammer.
“Did you use a stud finder?”
“For the date? No.” I shake my head. “Maybe that was the problem.”
I have to look at him when I hear his soft laugh.
“I meant for the nail.” He points at the wall. “I’m surprised you can use nails in a new apartment.”
“Landlord thinks that sticky stuff is the devil’s invention. Told me to hammer as much as I want.”
Gideon’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as his face crinkles with laughter.
“Tell me you meant to say that.”
“Totally did,” I promise him.
About Tracy Broemmer
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Frame in one hand and my hammer in the other, I stop just inside my bedroom and look at Gideon.
“What’s it look like?”
My sarcasm flies out the window when he tips his head like he’s actually thinking about it. I feel the heat from his intense stare as it travels up over my black heels and bare legs and skinny gray pencil skirt. What had he called it last night? Corporate getup?
“Kinda like an eighties music video,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe porn.”
Stunned by his answer, I take half a second to wonder if I’m offended. The laugh pops out before I make up my mind. I hold out the hammer and twist it this way and that and finally shudder when I look back at him.
“I’m going to hang his picture.” I turn my back on him and put the frame and hammer down on my bed.
“Want help?”
I peek at him over my shoulder and shake my head. “No thanks.”
“Well, I mean, you can’t just hammer a nail in a wall and be done with it. You have to measure, so you’re not crooked.”
“I’m not crooked,” I promise him. I kick off my heels and lead him to the spot on the wall I’ve already measured and marked. “I did that first.”
Rather than look at the spot on the wall, Gideon studies me. Up close to him like this, I smell his cologne. Something woodsy but not overpowering. He also smells like old books or at least an old building—like the mix of paper and dust.
“Did you work late?” he asks me, and when I shake my head, he asks, “why are you still dressed like that?”
Wow. He really does have an issue with professional attire.
“Had a date,” I answer. I left my nail out on the counter, so I go to get it. When I come back in, Gideon’s looking around my room. My cheeks heat with embarrassment when I see a lacey black bra tossed over the nightstand. He looks at me again with narrowed eyes, as if he’s trying to work out if I brought my date home and slept with him and forgot to put my bra on when I got dressed again.
“A date.”
“Mm-hmm.” I stick the nail between my teeth and eye the spot I marked earlier with a pencil.
“With who?”
“Mel Kavanaugh.”
“Don’t know him.”
“No kidding.” I speak around the nail in my teeth and roll my eyes. “He works at the bank.”
“That your type?” I wouldn’t swear to it, but he sounds disappointed.
“Will you gimme the hammer?” Nail still between my teeth, I hold my hand out and nod my thanks when he puts the hammer on my palm. Taking the nail out of my teeth, I lean closer to the wall and tap it gently with the hammer.
“Did you use a stud finder?”
“For the date? No.” I shake my head. “Maybe that was the problem.”
I have to look at him when I hear his soft laugh.
“I meant for the nail.” He points at the wall. “I’m surprised you can use nails in a new apartment.”
“Landlord thinks that sticky stuff is the devil’s invention. Told me to hammer as much as I want.”
Gideon’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as his face crinkles with laughter.
“Tell me you meant to say that.”
“Totally did,” I promise him.
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