Book Blitz: Golden Boy by Kate Moore
Title: Golden Boy
Series: The Canyon Club #2
Author: Kate Moore
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 21,
2015
In L.A., land of palm trees and
perpetual sunshine, charming trust-fund golden boy Josh Huntington
meets his match in Emma Gray, an independent single-mother who can’t
be won by charm...and who makes him past ready to be a man.
EVERYTHING HE WANTS
Lucky in looks, fortunate in birth,
Josh Huntington is a prince of privilege, one of LA’s golden boys.
In his nearly thirty years there have been no clouds in the sky and
no dip in his funds—until now. His impossibly strong sense of
self-interest is being challenged...and not just by his father’s
threats to cut his trust fund. There’s also his tenant, a prickly
young single mom with a six-year-old and a habit of looking down her
self-reliant nose at his wastrel ways.
Emma Gray has no
use for rich man-boys like her landlord, all charming sensuality and
no dependability. Not unless her sink needs unclogging. Josh reminds
her too much of her rock-star father and a past that she ran away
from. Emma is self-made, from her punk rock wardrobe to her fiercely
independent lifestyle. But her quest for family will bring them all
together, and soon Emma will learn that the spoiled boy next door
desires things she doesn’t realize...and can grow up to be a man
she never dared imagine.
He opened the door. Emma Gray looked
like a landlord’s worst nightmare, with her leather-gloved fist
stopped midway in its path to his door. Dark rouged lips, nose
piercings, and smoky, kohl-lined eyes intensified the glare she gave
him. Purple streaks in her hair hung long and straight over her ears.
Her black skull-and-crossbones tank top bared trails of lurid floral
tattoos running across her collarbone and down her upper arms. A
wide, metal-studded black leather belt cinched her waist above an
incongruous schoolgirl-plaid pleated skirt. Her slim legs, encased in
fishnet hose, disappeared into unlaced industrial-strength black
boots. And she looked seriously aggrieved that he’d opened his door
wearing only a pair of black silk boxers.
“Don’t you ever wear clothes?”
“Not in bed.”
Her gaze dropped. He might have made
her blush. Hard to tell under that Swedish death metal band look. At
least she lowered her fist.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“Sink? Refrigerator? Shower?” It was a mistake to think shower.
The very word triggered images his brain ought not to entertain about
his tenant, this prickly, independent, don’t-touch-me-ever,
single-mom tenant whose rent he needed. He might be at low tide, but
not that low.
They stood looking at each other in the
common second-floor entry under the breast of Venus overhead lamp
fixture while he waited for whatever she intended to say. He had time
to imagine several intriguing possibilities before she finally got
the words out.
“I need your help.”
He did not move. He did not betray by
so much as a flicker of a glance the satisfaction it gave him to hear
those four words from this girl who did practically everything
herself. Her constant stubborn independence irked him, though he was
less amused the few times she called him out on his landlord duties.
“Do you?”
She glanced back over hershoulder at
her unit. That meant she was thinking of her son Max, a tow-headed
six year old. “Yes.”
“What can I do for you?”
“My babysitter didn’t show and
hasn’t called, and I’m due at work in fifteen.”
He noted what she could and could not
say. “You want me to watch Max?”
“He can take care of himself, really.
He has toys and snacks. He can play while you…whatever. You just
have to check on him once in awhile and call me if there’s blood,
vomiting, unconsciousness, or visible bones.”
He should not have her on, but the
temptation was too strong. “Define ‘once in awhile.’ Like,
every five minutes, or every half hour?”
She blew out a short, sharp breath. “If
it gets too quiet, you know, you should check.”
“So you want me to keep my music down
and my door open.”
“Can you do that?”
It was clearly instinctive for her to
doubt his capabilities. To ask for his help, Ms. Self-Reliance had to
be desperate.
He straightened and stopped his
teasing. “Listen, let Max know the plan. I’ll put on some clothes
and take him to the park or something. How long will you be gone?”
“Six.” She turned away. “Thank
you.”
He left the door open and drifted back
into his bedroom to find some shorts and flip-flops. Her accepting
his help was a slight admission of his usefulness, and he
contemplated how to take advantage of his minor victory.
Also Available
Kate has lived most of her life along
the California coast. That experience has made her a jeans-wearing,
toes in wet-sand, married to a surfer, fog-loving weather wimp, with
a hint of East Coast polish from spending her college years in
Boston. Family history connects her to Irish and English immigrants,
Cornish miners, gold prospectors, and adventurers who sailed around
Cape Horn bound for San Francisco.
When she's not
reading, writing or brainstorming, Kate walks in the redwoods, feed
birds, collect books, apples and leaves; she watches tele-novellas on
Spanish-language TV and immerses herself in all things English. Her
favorite food groups are butter, brown sugar, dark chocolate, and red
wine. Kate's early literary influences were The Little Engine That
Could, The Little Red Hen, and Winnie the Pooh. Austen, Heyer,
Chaucer, and Homer came later and inspired her to put that first plot
on paper.
Kate's heroes are honorable, virile outsiders
with some grand ambition; her heroines are practical princesses, who
drive those edgy loners into love with good sense and good sex.
Her
family and friends offer endless support and humor. Kate says her
children are her best works, and her husband is her favorite hero.
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