All is fair in love and law....
Sophie Reid is a survivor—and she's done just that by steering clear of lawyers and sex with hunky strangers. After enduring a childhood of judgmental, distant parents, Sophie knows that lawyers are the lowest form of life on earth, and she refuses to let anyone tell her different. After one smoldering kiss, she plans to leave the lawyer and her bad judgment in the dust.
Ryan Becker, attorney-at-law, with his perfected art of persuasion attempts to convince Sophie that they can have more. Ryan is ready to take on the biggest challenge of his life: proving without a shadow of doubt that he and Sophie belong together.
Torn between her desire for him and her deep-seated mistrust for his profession pulls her in different directions. Still harboring pain from her past, Sophie can't see a future with Ryan—especially when a controversy puts them on opposite sides. With a wedge driven between them, Sophie realizes that she was right all along. Now, it's up to the lawyer to convince her that the pain from her past won't destroy their future.
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The romance between Sophie and Ryan was both sweet and smoking hot ... and I'm pretty sure my eReader caught fire during those times . . . and the secondary cast was pretty awesome, too. The plot was fun, Ryan's family was seriously amazing (I LOVED his mother to death, and his brother was a hoot) and the romance was mostly believable. I was interested enough to never even feel tempted to stop reading, and I'm rather hoping there will be a sequel with Sophie's best friend ... yes, please?" - Poppy, Long and Short Reviews
READ AN EXCERPT
Sophie Reid’s car inched onto the Laurel Canyon entrance ramp, slowing to the usual crawl to enter the Hollywood freeway heading east. The hot, dry Santa Ana winds blew across the San Fernando Valley, causing waves of heat to shimmer on the asphalt. She flipped down her visor and looked at herself in the mirror while waiting for the cars to creep through the light metering traffic at the top of the ramp. She snapped her fashionably oversized shades over her gray eyes, and smiled, knowing she looked good to catch everyone’s attention. She pushed the appropriate button with her French manicured finger, and the convertible top glided down with a whisper.
On a whim, she had dyed her chin length bob sunflower yellow to match the color of her new Volkswagen Beetle convertible, and she felt like showing off a little. She’d gone braless as usual, and wore a raspberry colored Henley top adorned with rhinestone buttons. She even gave a pageant style wave to the person behind her who had laughed and pointed at her vanity license plate. EW A BUG. It got her, and the car, a lot of attention, and admittedly, she liked it that way.
When more than a few minutes had passed, and Sophie hadn’t moved but a few centimeters, she was sorely tempted to bang ineffectively on her horn to try to get the cars to move faster. At this snail’s pace, her good mood was fading fast. She had left her house with little time to spare, forgetting about the ominous back to school and work traffic that jammed already clogged freeways every September. Now she started to worry that her late arrival would delay the filming of the television show she worked on. The idea of an entire production team of at least hundred people waiting for her arrival made her hands sweat. She shunned a lot of traditional values, but punctuality was not among them.
After what seemed an interminable wait, she finally moved from the entrance ramp onto the actual one-oh-one freeway only to find the traffic at almost a complete standstill. She looked at the car’s cute little dashboard clock and knew she was going to be very, very late to the studio for her call time, unless she did the improbably, get across six lanes of stopped traffic and onto the Ventura freeway to speed her way to Burbank. Looking at the clock again, then her watch, as if the large faced man’s timepiece on her wrist would give her a different time, it was unlikely she was going to make it.
Berating herself for leaving too late and taking the freeway rather than the street, she fished in the large orange tote bag on the passenger seat for her mobile phone, ready to make her excuses. She noticed that almost everyone was out of his or her car, and the freeway had come to a grinding halt.
“Hey, what’s going on?” she called to an older woman, who had exited her Bentley and nimbly sprinted past several cars in a designer business suit and four-inch Jimmy Choo heels.
“There’s a dog on the road,” she said breathlessly, only pausing for the briefest of moments to answer. “We’re trying to catch him before he gets run over.”
It was then that she saw it. A little red fur ball of a dog ran in between the stopped cars, and dodged every single one of the people who tried to catch him or her. She stopped worrying whether she would be able to complete the actor’s make-up in time for the filming. The long dormant animal lover in Sophie awoke and propelled her out of the car.
She was definitely going to be unacceptably late, didn’t give a damn, and joined the dog pursuit. The thought of seeing an innocent dog killed on the road scared the hell out of her. With no regard for her personal safety, she ran after the dog. After about five minutes darting around the freeway, she and a tall impossibly broad-shouldered, sandy-haired man were able to corral the dog between themselves and their cars. When he moved to grab the dog, it ran toward her, and she triumphantly scooped the warm body into her arms. The dog’s heart beat a million miles a minute against hers. She cradled the scared reddish-brown puppy and tried to calm it.
The handsome stranger waved at the frantic Angelenos, “She’s got him.” He paused, looking at her hair, then her car, and smiling. “Hey Sunflower,” he said nicknaming Sophie for her bright yellow hair, “You want me to take him?”
Sophie buried her nose in the dog’s fluffy head breathing in the warm dog smell, “No I’ve got him. Can you just hold him while I put my top up?” After handing over the wiggly bundle of fur, she sat back down in her car, and raised the convertible’s roof, to keep the dog secure when she got back on the road. She didn’t think her heart, or the dog’s, could take a repeat performance. When she turned around to take the dog, a cheer went up from the crowd who were now getting back into their cars, and getting back to the business of driving to work and school.
Their hands touched only briefly when he handed over the dog, but she felt a jolt that zinged her to the tips of her wild berry toenails. The energy, decidedly sexual, was nothing like she’d ever experienced. It traveled up her arm and zapped her somewhere down low. She grasped the dog, cum security blanket, more securely and looked into the stranger’s midnight blue eyes for the first time.
He was looking at her intently, curiously, sizing her up. It was probably the hair, she figured, not her. Men like him did not look twice at women like her. Her multiple piercings and tattoos shocked a lot of conservative types. For just a moment she Forgot the furry bundle wiggling in her arms. She felt an unexpected attraction to the man dressed in a starched button down shirt and pressed slacks. His whole demeanor screamed uptight lawyer or bean counting CPA – just the kind of guy she worked to studiously avoid.
The traffic started moving. To be safe, they both retreated to their cars, but Sophie could not shake the strong and instant connection she felt to the stranger.
He seemed just as bewildered. “Hey Sunflower, I didn’t get your name.”
She smiled, trying to hide the shivers he caused. Her usual sarcastic rejoinder froze on her lips. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, really, thanks for your help,” Sophie said, her gravelly voice, more husky than usual, deliberately leaving the question unanswered. She cut the exchange short knowing that any further conversation with this guy, no matter how handsome his strong features were, no matter how well he filled out the conservatively cut clothes, was a bad, bad idea.