Come What May by L.K. Farlow
Death…it’s the only guarantee in this rollercoaster ride called life. My dad always used to say “It’s what you do while you’re alive that matters.” But he’s gone now, and me…I’m spiraling out of control and on the verge of losing everything my dad worked so hard for.
Until Mateo Reyes makes me an offer I can’t refuse: he wants to purchase my dad’s shop. The payday would be monumental, but can I really sell all I have left of my dad?
Eventually, I give in. With a single caveat—he hires me to run it.
The tatted-up mechanic turns out to be as strict as he is handsome.
When I agreed to help my late friend’s daughter, I had no idea the kind of trouble I was inviting into my life. Seraphine’s young, reckless, impulsive, and drowning in her grief. The absolute last person I should allow around my teenaged daughter.
I’ve made it my personal mission to show her life does in fact go on after loss. After the death of my wife—I’d know.
Before I know it, I find myself thinking about things I have no business thinking of—like if her skin’s as soft as it looks and how her lips taste.
Turns out, she’s every bit as interested as I am, and while she might be my damnation, I’m willing to fight for her, come what may.
Expected publication: November 19th 2020
Excerpt Come What May by L.K. Farlow
“We’re painting a Barbie Jeep?” I nod. “Oh, my God. This is amazing.”
“So, so very. What color?”
“It’s for Willow.”
Seraphine bounces on the balls of her feet. “I’m excited, but I gotta be honest, I’ve never sprayed before.”
“Do not worry, mariposita, I will teach you.” I pop the first button on my shirt. “I just need to change first.”
“Do you want me to turn around?”
I shrug, and continue unbuttoning my shirt. Her pupils dilate as I shrug out of the fabric. “Do you like what you see?” I ask, knowing damn well she does.
“You’re…beautiful.” She slaps a hand over her mouth. “I mean handsome. Sexy. So good looking it hurts.”
Stepping into her, I pull her hand away from her face and place it on my bare chest, directly over my heart. “A man can be beautiful too. And the fact that you think I am—that you like how I look—it means something to me.”
I drop my voice an octave, and drag her hand down the hard line of my abs, so it rests at the waist of my jeans. “It does something to me.”
She sucks in a shuddery breath and dips the tip of her pinky beneath the material of my jeans. I laugh lightly and step back. “Now turn around.”
“Spoilsport,” she grumbles, but with a smile on her face.
“It’s for me more than you,” I tell her as I step out of my jeans.
“What does that even mean?”
I pull on the coveralls and step up behind her, burying my face in the crook of her neck. “I mean, seeing you react to me, to my body, makes it hard for me to resist you.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to resist me.”