A LOVE UNDERCOVER ROMANTIC COMEDY
She’s the exception to his every rule…
|FBI agent Max Carter lives his life by a strict set of rules—rules that don’t allow for distraction, deviation…or a relationship. But tell that to his matchmaking mama. To avoid yet another set-up, he announces he has a girlfriend. And now has to produce said girlfriend at Christmas dinner. Maybe Santa has a suitable actress in that red bag of his…
Gina Castillo is about to break her building’s iron-clad “no pets” policy to give her little brother the perfect Christmas gift—a dog. Too bad Max, the most inconveniently sexy tenant in the building, catches her red handed. Gina expects to be evicted, but instead finds herself blackmailed into playing the role of his girlfriend.
Two lies plus one dog should equal a hot mess of a holiday, but attraction and Christmas magic might just defy the rules…
Entangled Lovestruck | 11/13/2017
✭✭✭✭✭ “Get ready to ring in the Holidays with peels of laughter, sweet moments of love and madcap puppy chases, all while watching one sedate and “ordered” man have his world reorganized by the chaos of love!” ~Tome Tender
✭✭✭✭✭ “This novel is smart, funny, and sexy. It’s positively delicious to read and I already can’t wait for the authors’ next book.” ~Linda Quick, Goodreads Reviewer
✭✭✭✭.5 “I LOVED this book! What do you get when you mix an anal FBI agent who lives life by the rules with a rule breaker?? A fantastic read is what you get!!” ~Short & Sassy
✭✭✭✭✭ “A truly heartwarming story of opposites attract…covered in laughter, witty repartee, lots of banter, and not to forget, a totally lovable little mutt named surprisingly T-bone…” ~Becky Burciaga, Goodreads Reviewer
✭✭✭✭✭ “Ms. Scott has a writing style that will suck you in and make you a part of the shenanigans…a splendid story! Opposites attract and rules are meant to be broken…” ~Katrina Berry, Goodreads Reviewer
Max increased the speed on is treadmill, determined to outrun his demons. Namely, a brunette with big doe eyes and a huge heart who’d managed to wind herself into his life and into his very blood.
Like an addiction.
The door creaked, and he scowled. No one ever disturbed his middle of the night workout, and tonight he was in no fucking mood to share the space, that was for damn sure.
The air punched out of his lungs as recognition of his intruder’s identity slammed through him. Gina slipped into the room, sexy as hell. When did she ever not look sexy, even in that ridiculous elf costume? Now she wore a white tank top and black booty shorts that clung to the curve of her gorgeous backside. An outfit more suitable for sleeping than exercise—one he could image peeling her out of in the middle of the night—but he couldn’t even peel his eyes from her right now.
Without a word, and by some miracle still running without falling on his butt, Max watched her, never breaking eye contact. Leaning back against the door, her hands behind her, she stared back. He caught the soft snick of the lock even over the constant whirring of his machine. Max gulped as the blood abandoned his brain, leaving his legs lethargic as he continued to run.
Was this his thank-you gift for organizing her tools and things? Hell, yeah!
Turning away, she pulled the blinds covering windows facing the hallway closed, giving him a fantastic view of her from behind. Then she turned and walked toward him, hips swaying hypnotically. Max was about to explode in anticipation of whatever she had in mind.
The Super would toss them both out of the complex for sure if anyone caught them having sex in the gym…
For once in his life, he didn’t give two shits about the rules.
But, instead of stripping off her clothes like he was picturing, she reached over and yanked on the emergency chord, bringing his machine to a stop.
“Would you like to explain why you touched my things?” she demanded.
Her eyes glittered with anger, lips pressed together. How had he missed that?
Max had no clue what to do with what was happening. She was here to yell at him in the middle of the night?
Meet Max Carter–brilliant, hot, and damn fine FBI agent–whose perfectly ordered life is about to get a whole lot messier once Gina Castillo gets involved!
Before Max got his own story, we first met him in The Wrong Kind of Compatible…
Drew took another swig of his beer and pretended to watch the baseball game on the TV over the bar. Max had dragged him to their favorite Irish pub—all mahogany wood, a hundred beers on tap, and sports on every TV—for a few hours on a Saturday night. He’d insisted Drew needed to get out of his head before he went out of his mind.
He’d been working flat out trying to find something, anything, to close this damn case and escape his own personal hell. Being around Cassie without allowing himself to stare, or tease, or touch, was damn near killing him. If this went on much longer, the FBI would find his cold, lifeless body in his apartment, and the coroner’s report would cite an excessive buildup of sexual tension in the cells as the cause of death.
She, in the meantime, didn’t seem the least bothered by their status quo.
“What’s your problem, Kerrigan?” Max drawled, neatly stacking the coasters, flipping one over so that the same side was facing up on all of them.
Drew raised a single eyebrow. His friend’s OCD was showing.
“Didn’t say anything,” Drew replied.
Max wasn’t to be sidetracked from his earlier question, though. “You’ve been about as fun as a sandy towel at the beach. I’m used to you not speaking much, but if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’re in need of some mind-blowing sex.”
Drew’s body agreed as a crystal-clear image of Cassie’s gorgeous body assailed him. Unfortunately, banging his head on the bar in an attempt to rid himself of said image would only make Max more suspicious. “I’m not,” the words came out as a growl.
“No?” Max challenged.
Unwilling to argue, Drew shrugged and swung his gaze back to the game. Not that he’d paid enough attention to even know the score, but what the hell.
“I told you getting close to your assignment was a bad idea.”
Damn Max and the computer he carried around instead of a brain. He was almost as bad as Cassie in the hit-the-head-on-the-nail analysis of others. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“When my buddy starts acting like a bug crawled up his ass, I have to step in. It’s just the kind of guy I am.” Max slapped him on the back just as he was taking a swig of beer, and Drew came up spluttering.
In retaliation, Drew scoured his brain for a diversion and landed on a topic guaranteed to distract. “Has your mom found you a wife yet?”
Max’s expression snapped from grinning to pissed in less time than it took him to trace laundered money to the source. “Low blow, man. Why’d you have to take it there?”