Author: Michele Summers
Series: Harmony Homecomings
Pubdate: July 7th, 2015
You can’t go back, and you can’t stand still…
Lucy Doolan is a marketing genius. She can sell rain to a frog and snow to a polar bear. Newly single and unemployed, she’s lured back to her hometown of Harmony, North Carolina to help out her pregnant evil stepsister…only to find former crush heartthrob Brogan Reese has returned too, to open a new business in town. To add insult to injury, he’s still hot.
If the thunder don’t get you, then the lightning will…
Brogan never noticed Lucy much when they were young, but seventeen people have recommended her to help him. She’s got his attention now. With her sweet personality, brilliant imagination, and penchant for doing the completely unpredictable, Brogan is finding a whole lot of excuses to spend his days—and nights—with Lucy.
Michele Summers writes about small-town life with a Southern flair and has her own interior design business in Raleigh, North Carolina, and Miami, Florida. Both professions feed her creative appetite and provide a daily dose of humor.
“Where did you get the idea that I was up for sale? I’m not on the menu. Sell granola, sell muffins, sell chocolate-covered frozen bananas, but don’t sell me.” He shook her shoulders before releasing her.
Note to self: start locking front door. Lucy inched sideways to escape his wrath, along with his exotic smell that always made her want to do something rash, like jump him and suck his neck. “Uh…I understand what you’re saying, but you’re looking at it all wrong.”
Frowning, he folded his arms across his solid chest. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Sure. BetterBites is a great, unique place where you can find off-the-wall stuff like that granola crap or those disgusting seaweed thingies next to the spiced ginger.” Brogan didn’t disguise his exaggerated eye roll. “But it has limited appeal around here.” She held up a finger. “Or, it’s perceived as limited. Harmony is not D.C., New York, or Atlanta. I figured the best way to get people to buy into all that organic, healthy stuff you want to unload, we have to sell you.” She could hear the grinding of his teeth. “I mean, look at you. You’ve got it going on”—she snapped her fingers in a Z formation—“smokin’ hot, buffed, good-looking, and yes…single.”
“I swear, Lucy, I’m this close to tanning your hide.” An inch of space showed between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m not for sale, and I don’t perform at eighty-year-old bachelorette parties.”
“You don’t have to. Just show up at the parties with platters of food. You and Javier wear those BetterBites green logo shirts, unwrap the platters, be nice, smile a lot”—she shook her finger at his face—“not that growling thing you got going on now. Chat them up a little, and then leave. How hard can it be? Just tonight we booked three more parties, and that’s not counting the Happy Hookers or the Harmony Huggers already on the schedule.” She waited, hoping for his endearing smile to return.
“Lucy, I want to sell a better way of life…a healthier way of eating. Not my unmarried status to every single woman three states over.”
She reached for her Cheerwine on the wicker end table. “Understood. But there’s more than one way to skin a cat. We need to get people to want to step in your store…to introduce them to your products. So, we dangle a delectable tidbit that lures them in. Your job is to sell them once we hook them.”
“I’m the delectable tidbit?” The edge had disappeared from his voice.
She nodded, sipping her drink. “Sex sells. It’s a proven fact.”
“Uh-huh. This is how it’s going down.” He ticked off on his fingers. “For every stupid makeup, hair-curling, knitting, or geriatric sing-along you schedule, you have to book a guys’ event too.”
“Like a male salon party where guys get haircuts and shaves?”
“Hell, no. Like poker night or fantasy football or hoops night. Look for some sports events to sponsor.” He gestured in agitation.
“Already working on it. I’ve put in a call to Keith Morgan. We might be sponsoring one of his tournaments.” She placed her drink back on the table.
“Good. Make sure we do.”
Somehow his chest filled her vision. Lucy dug her toes into the cotton braids of the rug covering the tile floor. Suddenly she realized she’d been arguing about marketing techniques, wearing only her yellow daisies sleeping boxers and green tank top, braless. How did this happen? She’d been settling down for a night of chillaxing with her favorite junk food and ended up defending the philosophy of “sex sells” in her skimpy PJs.
“Sex sells, huh?” he said as if reading her mind in his gooey, caramel voice, the one that made Lucy’s heart beat double-time and her knees shake. He reached for a hank of hair and tugged until she leaned into him. “You buying, Little Lucy?” he whispered, lowering his mouth.
Giveaway of one copy of the first and second books in the Harmony Homecomings series! Open to US residents only. Ends July 10th 2015.