Lexi Blake concludes her Park Avenue Promise series next week with another unputdownable romance set against the iconic backdrop of Manhattan, and I have a sneak peek for you.
Excerpt
I hate this man and yet I can’t miss the fact that he seems to find this argument exciting. “If you designed it, it would be the most boring shirt in the history of time. Are you going to staple some greenery and stones on it so it can be biophallic?”
“It’s biophilic,” he corrects.
I give him a smirk of my own. “I was talking about your pants, Dorsey, since they seem to be tighter on you than they were before. Is that a swatch or are you happy to see me?”
His jaw tightens. “Well, I could say the same damn thing about your nipples, Harper. Because those headlights are on, baby, and they definitely seem happy to see me.”
Damn, my overly sensitive nipples. It’s the cold. Except I’m not feeling cold. I’m actually feeling weirdly alive for the first time in forever.
“I don’t know whether to cry or start live streaming this,” Jeremiah says under his breath.
Reid isn’t through. “And if you think I’m going to spend the next several weeks of my life fighting you, you’re wrong. I’m not listening to this. I do not need a contractor complaining constantly.”
Oh, we’re back to me being a harpy. “I’m just some nagging woman out to ruin your life, is that it, Reid? Is that what that night in Ralavia was about? You thought maybe since you couldn’t get my friend to fire me, you could control the pathetic wallflower with sex?”
The smirk on his face is pure arrogance. “I thought maybe I would see if the room got warmer if you lost some of that ice, Princess.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jeremiah says under his breath as his head shakes. “We should have invited a therapist to dinner. Always. Anytime we have a party, there should be a therapist on call. I would have invited my friend but he’s a vegan, and I really wanted some red meat.”
“I’m an ice princess?” It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, but it hurts. And when I’m hurt I tend to…well, hurt right back.
He gets in my space, looking like a gorgeous, angry bull about to charge. “If the frost fits…”
“You are a lying cheater,” I shoot back. He wants to do it this way, he’ll find out I can throw it right back in his face.
His head shakes. “Oh, am I? Who exactly am I cheating on?”
“History for one, and that blonde idiot for another.” I don’t care what Jeremiah told me. He’s looking out for his brother.
“First off, I can’t cheat history. I simply choose not to worship a time when they didn’t even have running toilets. I also think we’re not talking about the same history. You don’t care about Banover Place because it was once a smuggler’s home or because some famous author once lived there. This is about you. You want to take this place back to some sad-sack moment in time when you and your friends thought you could take on the world or something. It’s the sad dream of a pathetic teenager, and I’m not going to wreck this project so you can feel like you’re seventeen again.”
The words split something inside me. Is that really what I’m doing? Am I causing all this trouble because I’m desperate to hold on to some moment in the past when the world seemed softer and warmer than it does today? When life held promise?
Reid’s expression falls and he runs a hand over his hair. “Harper, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You came at me with claws flying and I…I wasn’t ready for a fight tonight.”
“Harper, I would like to speak with you privately,” a deep voice says, and I look up to see Luca St. Marten standing there looking especially regal in a button-down and perfectly pressed slacks. And he is pissed. His eyes are narrowed, and every muscle seems rigid with irritation.
I started this fight and I’m about to get fired.
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Park Avenue Promise - Recommended Reading Order
(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
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