Sexy Scoundrel (Cocky Hero Club) by Raisa Greywood
Carlina Pérez is in way over her head. Unexpectedly jobless and fostering an exotic pet with an insatiable appetite, this pastry chef needs a new gig faster than she can whip up a batch of scones. But when she’s tapped to serve as the personal chef to a haughty tabloid regular, she only considers the job out of sheer desperation. After all, Giorgio Acardi may be filthy rich and intoxicatingly handsome, but he’s also a first-class scoundrel.
Giorgio Acardi has it all: money, fame, an endless string of beautiful companions, and the respect of his colleagues and rivals. From the outside looking in, his life is perfect. So perfect, in fact, that he’s even got his eye on a new personal chef. She’s talented and gorgeous, and it shouldn’t make a difference whether she hates him or not as long as she does the job. But there’s something about Carlina that Giorgio just can’t resist, and he hasn’t enjoyed success by backing down from a challenge.
Excerpt Sexy Scoundrel (Cocky Hero Club) by Raisa Greywood
Copyright 2019 Raisa Greywood
Closing my eyes, I let myself drift under my warm blanket for whatever time I had until the pain meds wore off and Giorgio Acardi returned to plague me again.
It was a shame he was such an asshole. Assholes shouldn’t look as fine in a suit as he did, and they certainly shouldn’t make me want to find out what his thick, dark hair looked like without the man bun. I wanted to cry when I realized I’d never see what was under that wool jacket.
“I can arrange a private viewing whenever you want, Carlina. It would be my utmost pleasure.”
I opened my eyes and blinked, finding Giorgio sprawled in the recliner next to the bed. Instead of his customary suit, he wore a black dress shirt and worn jeans.
His dark eyes flashed with amusement and heat as he scooted closer and tugged the clip from his hair, sending it spilling past his shoulders in a stream of waves. Lord have mercy, the man had nice hair. I touched it, the silky black strands twining around my fingers making me shiver.
“I am so high,” I murmured. For some reason, I didn’t mind him hearing what I said. I planned on blaming the drugs.
“Yes, you are.” He leaned close, the brush of his stubble rasping against my cheek. “You might even be stoned enough that I can kiss you without you ripping my head off.”
“My mouth tastes like dog turds.”
“Ah.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin of breath mints, then dropped one in my hand. “I hope this helps.”
“I’m still not kissing you,” I muttered, popping the mint into my mouth. “You’re trying to set me up for a photo opportunity.”
“No.” He stroked my hand and I hated that I found it soothing. “I haven’t seen a photographer in days, actually. I suppose they find me boring now.”
“Having a dry spell?” I asked. “No overdressed wannabe trophy wives around to play with?”
“Hmm. No.” He slid the engagement ring over my knuckle, then brought my hand to his lips. “A beautiful pastry chef with a smart mouth has kept all my attention for weeks.”