Walk
of Shame
Love Unexpectedly #4
Love Unexpectedly #4
By: Lauren Layne
Releasing
April 18, 2017
Loveswept
Loveswept
Tour Host: Tasty Book Tours
Sparks
fly between a misunderstood New York socialite and a cynical divorce lawyer in
this lively standalone rom-com from the USA Today bestselling
author of Blurred Lines and Love Story.
Pampered
heiress Georgianna Watkins has a party-girl image to maintain, but all the
shopping and clubbing is starting to feel a little bit hollow—and a whole lot
lonely. Though Georgie would never admit it, the highlights of her week are the
mornings when she comes home at the same time as her uptight, workaholic
neighbor is leaving to hit the gym and put in a long day at the office. Teasing
him is the most fun Georgie’s had in years—and the fuel for all her naughtiest
daydreams.
Celebrity
divorce attorney Andrew Mulroney doesn’t have much time for women, especially
spoiled tabloid princesses who spend more time on Page Six than at an actual
job. Although Georgie’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s also everything Andrew
resents: the type of girl who inherited her penthouse instead of earning it.
But after Andrew caps one of their predawn sparring sessions with a surprise
kiss—a kiss that’s caught on camera—all of Manhattan is gossiping about whether
they’re a real couple. And nobody’s more surprised than Andrew to find that the
answer just might be yes.
I have been a big fan of Lauren Layne for a while now, and I was
intrigued by the description. The misunderstood socialite and a divorce
lawyer!! I wasn't even sure how this would playout!! But when I started the
story, I was honestly blown away by the characters vulnerability and resolve.
When you first start reading about Georgie, you honestly don't think
there is anything you can relate too, with the over pampered socialite, but
that is not the real Georgie. The real Georgie asks after her concierge and
brings them doughnuts. Basically she cares about people! About their lives and
families and she wants to share some of their joy, something she seems to be
lacking in her own.
Andrew is a tough nut to crack, and you don't really warm up to him,
until he accidentally hurts Georgie with his Sharpe tongue and then cracks of
compassion starts to poke through.
To say I love this book might just be an understatement, the plot is
almost Cinderella like, but rather than needing saving from poverty and
hardship, Georgie wants to be loved, for exactly who she is, and damn it! This
book reduced me to tears, but then I tend to when reading a Lauren Layne books,
as her writing is just SO beautiful.
After all that gushing, there is only once score I could give this
book...5 stars!
And who is he, you ask?
Andrew Mulroney, Esquire.
I know this because we moved
into the building on the exact same day, and right before we got into a
horrendous fight over whose movers should have access to the building loading
dock first, he handed me his business card.
The thick white card stock
declared that he had a fancy law degree to go along with the fancy suit he was
wearing on a Saturday.
Andrew handed it over with
such superiority, I actually wished for a half second that I had a business
card of my own that would somehow be better than his. Like, lined with gold or
something. No, platinum. With a diamond in the corner. It would be
too heavy for him to hold, and he’d drop it, thus having to kneel at my feet to
pick it up.
But then I
realized it was just as well that I didn’t have a business card.
Because it would say . . . what?
Georgie
Watkins, professional party girl?
Anyway, I digress. Despite
the high temps of that swampy July morning, the encounter had been the start of
an epic cold war.
Me, the socialite in
apartment 86A against the uptight esquire in apartment 79B.
I’m not entirely sure I’m
winning the war, but I’ll never tell him that.
I let my gaze drift over
Andrew, even though his appearance rarely holds any surprises. The man’s a
lesson in sameness, like some sort of anal-retentive version of Groundhog Day.
There’s always the black mug
with some healthy gunk inside held in his right hand, Tom Ford briefcase and
Armani garment bag in his left, containing what I know to be a perfectly
tailored three-piece suit.
Andrew’s coppery hair is
perfectly styled, although I’d swear that there’s some natural curl
in there threatening to disrupt his perfect order. I imagine that annoys him,
so it therefore makes me happy.
Let’s see, what else about my
nemesis?
He’s got a hard, unfriendly
jawline that’s perfectly shaven.
Dark brown eyes, cold and
flat. Black gym bag over one shoulder.
I suppose you
could say he changes up his attire, because he does alternate between black and
gray gym shirts. But considering that they seem to be the exact same fit,
both colors molding perfectly to his impressively sculpted upper body, we’re
not giving him any points for variety there.
Same goes for the lower half.
The black shorts worn in summer have given way to sleek black sweatpants now
that October’s upon us, but they’re both black and Nike, so we’ll give him no
credit for changing it up there either.
The shoes, though . . .
I do a double take.
Well, well, well . . .
Instead of the usual black
gym shoes, the man’s shoes are red. I don’t know how I missed it
before.
I drag my eyes back up his
body with a grin, and he gives just the slightest roll of his eyes to indicate
that he’s noticed my slow perusal and isn’t fazed in the least.
“You went shopping, Dorothy!”
I say happily.
He stares at me. “I don’t
shop.”
Of course not. Far too frivolous.
“No, that makes sense,” I
say, pointing at his feet. “Glinda would have given these to you.”
Andrew looks down at his
Rolex watch. “I’ve got to go. Have a good day, Mr. Ramirez.”
“You too, Mr. Mulroney,”
Ramon says with a deferential nod. “Enjoy your workout.”
“Yes, do,” I say, turning and
watching as Andrew moves toward the front door of our building. “What’s on the
schedule today? Treadmill, or just skipping down the Yellow Brick Road?”
Andrew Mulroney, Esquire,
doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even turn before pushing through the revolving
doors and stepping out into the still-dark autumn morning.
Now
come on. Tell me that wasn’t at least a little bit fun, despite the ungodly
hour.
A former
e-commerce and web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated to New York
City in 2011 to pursue a full-time writing career.
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