Series: Standalone Novel
Published by Self Published on 5/17/18
Genres: Romantic Comedy
Buy on Amazon
Marble isn’t the only thing that’s hard at this museum.
His body is as chiseled as Adonis. His lips are as sculpted as David. And his ego is the size of the Guggenheim.
You know the type—wolfish smile and the gravity of a black hole. The kind of man who sucks all the air from the room the second he enters it. My cocky boss thinks this internship was wasted on me, and he doesn’t hesitate to let me know.
But he’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it to him. If I can stay away from his devil lips, that is. Lips that cut me down and kiss me in the same breath, leaving me certain he’s on a mission to ruin my life.
And maybe my heart, too.
*A brand new STANDALONE romantic comedy full of steam, laughs, and heart by bestselling author Staci Hart*
Did you see what’s LIVE on Amazon today and FREE with KU?! Yep, one of my most favorite RomCom authors has put out a new standalone that I cannot wait to dive into to. And man, does it look AMAZING. Today we have all the bookish info and an exclusive excerpt. Make sure you check it out. And remember you can read FREE if you have Kindle Unlimited. If not, you can always grab a free 30 day trial of KU here.
My mind was a beehive, humming and buzzing and crawling in my skull. It wasn’t uncommon to see Lydia at the museum. And it wasn’t uncommon for me to find myself affected by her presence.
I’d forgotten all about Rin until I walked into my office and found her standing in front of my desk, her body turned for the door like she couldn’t decide whether to stay or go.
Stay, my mind whispered.
Her face brightened when she saw me. “Hello, Dr. Lyons. I finished the research you requested today—it should be in your email. I just wanted to stop in before I left to see if you wanted to discuss it.” The final word hung between us like a question, one with the indubitable answer of yes.
“Thank you, Rin. Yes, have a seat.”
She seemed as relieved as I felt as she sank into the leather chair and rummaged through her bag for her notes. And I stepped around the desk and sat, feeling the hive in my brain slow like it’d been smoked, stilling once she began to talk, silencing as I answered.
Her hair fell in her face as she spoke—she brushed it away with her fingers, one of which was taped with a green blur.
I frowned. “What happened to your finger?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh! I…well, I-I dropped a stack of books—I’m so sorry, but they’re all right, I mean, there might have been a few bent pages, but I smoothed them out and I think they’ll be okay,” she rambled, her eyes darting around the room like she was in an interrogation for a heist rather than an inquiry after her health.
“Rin, I’m not worried about the books. What happened to your finger?”
She sighed and held it up. “A paper cut.”
My frown deepened as I noted the dark spot of blood smudging—I squinted to see—a Ninja Turtle’s face. “Is that…”
A laugh shot out of me. “Must have been some paper cut.”
“It was. This is my third Ninja Turtle. I only have Raphael left.”
I opened my bottom desk drawer for my first aid kit, digging through it for a swab and a real bandage before getting up, walking around my desk, and sitting on the edge in front of her. I extended my hand for hers.
Her flush, which had momentarily gone, surged in her cheeks, smudging them with color. “Oh, no—that’s okay, I’m fine. It’s just a paper cut.”
I quieted her with a look, flexing my fingers in a silent demand. And, tentatively, she obliged.
Her fingers were long and soft, her hand warm and delicate, and I turned it over in mine, peeling the flimsy kids’ bandage off easily—an accidental flick of her wrist would have rid her of it. The cut was deep, white on the edges, her skin pruned from the confines of the bandage. I took my time cleaning her off and bandaging her up, cataloging the details of her hands, the creases in her knuckles, her long nail beds, the fine bones, the meat of her palm. And before I let her go, I made the grave mistake of meeting her eyes.
They were locked on mine, her lips parted, her body leaning and hand resting solidly in mine.
I didn’t let her go.
And I found myself leaning.
She drew the smallest of breaths.
Awareness snapped through me like ice. I returned her hand and rose from my perch in a single motion, moving to put the desk between us.
I opened my computer, my eyes on my screen so I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “You know, I don’t want to keep you here so late. I’ll look over your notes and we can discuss them in the morning.”
She was already packing her things, much to my disappointment.
What did you want her to do, say no?
“Thanks, Dr. Lyons.” She stood, slinging on her bag, and I searched her face, looking to see if she was as affected by me as I was by her. But I found nothing.
It was for the best.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with a smile, and I nodded once, watching her walk away.
And I didn’t even have the good sense to realize how little control I had.
About the Author
Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, even though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey. Her favorite word starts with f and ends with k.
From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s sleeping, cleaning, or designing graphics.