By: Laura Chapman
Releasing
March 21, 2017
Self-Published
Self-Published
Tour Host: Tasty Tour Host
She's a work in progress . . . He's a fixer upper . . .
She's a work in progress . . .
Bailey
Meredith has had it. As an assistant at a prestigious interior design firm,
she’s tired of making coffee and filing invoices. She’ll do just about anything
to get out from under the paperwork and into the field for real experience.
Then she sees an ad for a job that seems too good to be true.
He's a fixer upper . . .
Wilder
Aldrich knew she would be perfect for the crew the moment he saw her. His hit
home improvement show only hired the best, and Bailey had potential written all
over her. It isn’t just her imaginative creativity and unmatched work ethic
that grabs his attention. There’s just something about her.
With
chemistry on screen, it’s only a matter of time before sparks fly behind the
scenes as well. But with Bailey’s jaded views on romance and a big secret that
could destroy Wilder and everyone he cares about, are either of them willing to
risk it all for love?
Keeping a close distance, she
followed Waverly up the cracked path to the house. Bailey took quick mental
notes of her surroundings. The exterior needed a lot of work. The sagging roof
missing gutters made her think they’d find the inside in similar disarray. They
stepped through the front door, nearly tripping over Wilder Aldrich, who was
measuring the entryway.
“Hey!” He sprang to his feet and out
of their way. “What did I tell you about waiting until I gave you the all
clear?”
“You were taking for-frickin’-ever,
and some of us were freezing our tits off.” She pursed her lips and took on a
warrior stance, seemingly daring him to say something else.
Conceding victory to her, Wilder
turned and flashed an apologetic grin at Bailey. “Hey.” He offered a hand.
Warmth permeated through the thin material of her glove. “Welcome to Casa de
Waverly.”
Giving him a smug grin, Waverly
sipped her coffee and faced Bailey. “Do you have a smart phone?”
Bailey stared blankly for a second,
still dazzled by seeing Wilder up close. But she quickly snapped to attention
and dug her phone out of her coat pocket.
“Good,” Waverly said after
inspecting it. “While you’re on the job, I’d like you to snap some photos for
our social media accounts. I’ll want to vet everything before we post it, but
we need to start building the buzz for the next season while we’re filming. In
exchange, we’ll cover your phone payments to take care of your data usage.
Understood?”
“I can do that.”
“Good. Now . . .” She pulled out her
own phone. It was the latest model that had come out on the market a month ago.
With all of its reported bells and whistles, it put Bailey’s poor phone to
shame. “I’m going to make a quick call. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and we
can get started on,” she gestured around her, “this mess.”
She spun on her heel and waltzed out
of the room, cooing into the phone.
Wilder cleared his throat, and
Bailey turned to give him her full attention. She estimated he was only a
couple of years older than herself—maybe in his late twenties or early
thirties. He looked younger in real life than he did on TV. He was leaner and a
little shorter—though she still had to crane her neck a little to meet his
gaze.
He was also more handsome. Not the GQ model, your
tongue-sticks-to-the-top-of-your-mouth kind of sexy. But he was hot in the same
way the guy you sat next to in Chemistry was. It was enough to distract you
from formulas and Bunsen burners every so often, but not enough that you’d ever
set the lab on fire or forget to finish your final exam.
So far, he seemed much more serious.
Where was the guy who scared Waverly with a stuffed dummy in a closet in the
last episode she’d watched before calling an end to the marathon?
He was, she realized, studying her
every bit as closely, with those hazel eyes speckled with green. Noting that,
she didn’t feel quite as rude taking mental notes on the man in front of him.
At least she looked good. She’d laid
out three outfits that morning in the hotel room. The first was a long, silky
turquoise tunic that she’d paired with a pair of black leggings and knee-high
boots. It was similar to the clothes Waverly favored on screen—only hers
weren’t name-brand knockoffs. Then she had the casual jeans, a gray T-shirt that
she could dress-up with a navy blue blazer. And there was option three:
dark-wash, fit jeans, a chambray shirt, and a scarf. It was an ensemble that
fell somewhere in the middle. It was the one that looked the most like her when
she inspected herself in the mirror.
It was the one that felt most like
her now in the middle of the foyer.
She wondered what he saw when he
looked at her. Did he see a confident young woman ready to tackle major
projects adeptly? Or did he see someone who was desperate to create, no matter
what happened? Both were correct, but which one shone through right now?
Like a light switch, that triggered
something in her. She offered her hand again. “We haven’t officially met. I’m
Bailey Meredith.”

Thank you for hosting!
ReplyDeleteAllisia
Tasty Book Tours