A grumpy, reclusive author. An ambitious Hollywood showrunner. Can they write their way to a happy ending?
Producing the reboot of cult teen hit Sawyer’s Cove will finally move Selena Echeveria up another rung on the Hollywood ladder. Nothing is going to stop her from creating an amazing season of television—not the online haters or the fact that she’s living in a pool for the duration of the shoot. Then she discovers her landlord is none other than Warner Mathis, her favorite author, who fell off the grid after one sensational novel. Selena finds herself distracted by the mystery of his literary disappearance—not to mention the brooding demeanor that makes him even sexier than the photo on his book jacket.
Warner Mathis hasn’t written a word—or been with a woman—since his wife died five years ago. Now he takes care of rental properties, escaping his pain through manual labor. He hides behind his gruff reputation—until Selena, his unexpected, beautiful tenant, starts pushing at the rusted-shut door to his heart.
When a storm knocks out the power, Selena shelters with Warner—and the lightning outside is no match for the heat they generate inside. But while desire comes easy, change doesn’t, and Warner can’t move into the future when he’s still living with the ghosts of the past.
Second chances make for great television, but can Selena convince Warner he deserves another shot at love?
Take It All is a steamy, stand-alone, full-length novel in the Sawyer’s Cove: The Reboot series, where Hollywood glam meets small-town heart.
Sawyer’s Cove: The Reboot
Enjoy an excerpt from Take it All
She swore she hadn’t timed it, but somehow Warner was hauling himself out of the pool when she passed by on her way to her car.
“Morning,” she called.
The sun glinted off the water streaming from his lean, six-foot frame. He had a serious farmer’s tan, arms bronzed up to his biceps, pale and dotted with the occasional mole everywhere else, light colored chest hair between flat pecs. His sandy blond hair was graying a little at the temples, but it looked good on him.
He was probably around forty, but his face was far more weathered than Selena’s own. She was thirty-seven but was routinely mistaken for someone ten years younger. Not that she was complaining. It had bothered her to look young in her twenties; now that she was nearing forty, she thanked her good genes and round face and body for keeping her youthful in an industry that prized elastic skin.
“Morning,” he returned, squinting against the sun.
“Nice morning for a swim.” Just because she had never successfully engaged him in conversation didn’t mean she was going to stop trying.
“Going to be hotter later,” he said.
She already felt the heat of the day seeping into the stone patio beneath her sandaled feet. Thank God the pool house had central air—so far late August in Connecticut had proven to be hot and humid. When was fall was supposed to start around here? “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He leaned over to grab his towel, and his wet shorts tightened snugly over his well-shaped ass. He wasn’t beefy or unnaturally muscular, he was just a guy with no extra body fat who seemed to be that way through genes and physical labor. He must have to work hard to stay warm in the winter.
“Well, I better get to work. See you…around,” Selena said after a beat when he didn’t say anything back.
“Goodbye,” he said, nodding at her. Dismissing her.
She turned her back on him to walk to her car, but couldn’t suppress her smile. She had gotten him to say three sentences to her. Granted, two of them had been one-word sentences, but she still felt like progress had been made. By the time she left Misty Harbor to return to Los Angeles, they might have advanced to saying two sentences in a row to each other.
A woman had to have goals.