Samantha Young is taking us back this week to the world of her beloved On Dublin Street, with a fake dating, sports romance—featuring an ambitious entrepreneur, Beth Carmichael, whose carefully plotted life is deliciously derailed when Callan Keen, a grumpy Scottish football captain, moves into the apartment above hers—and I have a little sneak peek for you. Beth is Braden and Jocelyn Carmichael‘s daughter.
Excerpt
We looked up to find a handsome man, perhaps in his midforties. His dark eyes were on me. Recognition hit as he asked, “Excuse me, but would you like to dance?”
Sure enough, a quick glance behind informed me people were now out on the dance floor. “You’re … You’re Iain Erstwhile.”
He grinned, and it was attractive. “I am.”
This man was Maia’s boss’s boss. He was the CEO of Pennington’s, the oldest luxury department store chain in the country. My immediate thought jumped to business. If I could dance with him, I could tell him about Social Queens. Pennington’s was an even better client opportunity than Aura Beauty! Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total loss.
“Sure.” I stood up, handing my clutch to Callan. “Will you look after this for me?”
Callan scowled. “Aye, sure, no problem.”
It did, in fact, sound like it was a big problem. I gave him a look that I hoped conveyed that I’d explain later. Then I followed Iain freaking Erstwhile onto the dance floor.
“I’m Beth Carmichael,” I introduced myself as I began swaying in his arms. He was a gentleman and kept an appropriate amount of space between us.
Iain raised an eyebrow. “Not Braden’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
He frowned. “May I ask what age you are?”
“Twenty-four.”
Iain relaxed and murmured, “Old enough.”
Oh boy. Time to steer any thoughts like that far, far away. “I run a social media management company. Who does your socials for you?”
His lips twitched with amusement. “I asked you to dance because as soon as you walked in the room, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I really don’t want to talk business with such a beautiful woman in my arms.”
Damn it. I gave him a flirty but abashed smile. “I came here with a date.”
“Callan Keen’s reputation is well known. I assumed it isn’t serious.”
Oh, he had been paying attention. “You assumed incorrectly,” I lied.
“Ah, pity.” His dark eyes moved over my face. “If you ever change your mind …” He released me to pull a card out of his suit pocket. “Call me.”
I took the card. “And if I ever want to talk business?”
Iain grinned. “Sure. Call me then too.”
“Great.” I stepped back. With a little wave of his business card, I turned on my heel and sashayed toward Callan, feeling good about myself. Callan, however, was already coming toward me.
Suddenly, he looked very tall and broad-shouldered as he marched across the room, green eyes icy with anger. My clutch dangled in his clenched fist. I opened my mouth to explain, but when he reached me, he took a hold of my elbow, his grip tight as he guided us toward the door that led to the restroom. I could practically feel the anger vibrating off him.
“He’s the CEO of Pennington’s,” I explained. “I got his business card.”
Callan didn’t respond. Instead, he dragged me down the corridor, past people queuing for the loo, and I tried not to look like a drama was playing out between us.
He hauled me along with him, around the corner and out of sight. As soon as we had privacy, he halted and pressed me up against the wall. His hands braced at either side of my head, my clutch hitting off it with a worrying thud.
“If you break that, you buy it,” I warned.
Then Callan leaned his whole body into me. And I felt him.
He was aroused.
I sucked in a breath as excitement flushed through me. “What are you doing?”
He searched my face, his chest rising and falling against mine. “I don’t know,” he admitted hoarsely.
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(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
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