When little-known writer Taylor Scott is granted two weeks to interview a famous reclusive author, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. So is the chance to rekindle her friendship with Mike Greene, who happens to be the author’s assistant. But as feelings deepen and time winds down, Taylor will have to choose between the story that could launch her career and an unexpected chance at love.
A Touch of Heaven
As Regan Amerson makes the emotional decision to sell their family home, her mother wins a home makeover from a reality TV show. Regan is furious, and jaded host Sawyer Bennett isn’t thrilled either. That is, until he meets Regan—and finds himself enamored by the fiercely independent beauty. She may want nothing to do with him, but Sawyer isn’t one to give up easily…
What People Are Saying about Samantha Chase:
“Encourages readers to sit down, put their feet up, and enjoy.”—Publishers Weekly for Until There Was Us
“Chase just gets better and better.”—Booklist
“Classic, thoughtful, and as lyrical as the stars.”—Kirkus Reviews for A Sky Full of Stars
A TOUCH OF HEAVEN EXCERPT:
As much as Sawyer hated to admit it, the house had potential. He knew he should pass on the job; there wasn’t a challenge here construction-wise. It was structurally sound, and other than being outdated, the project would be a no-brainer.
It was a shame, because now, standing in the master bedroom, Sawyer had all kinds of ideas how he could renovate the space and turn the room into the sort of retreat a couple would love. Taking out his tape measure, he let himself get caught up in the design in his head. “Change the lighting,” he muttered as he typed notes into his tablet, “add a ceiling fan and crown molding”—more typing—“rip up the carpet and replace with hardwoods”—type, type, type—“put a king-size bed in here because what couple wouldn’t enjoy a king-size bed?”
“My parents didn’t, actually,” a voice said from behind him. Sawyer turned and nearly forgot how to breathe. She was stunning and sexy and clearly mad as hell at him for being there, judging by her defiant stance in the doorway.
“You must be Regan,” he said when he was able to find his voice. Walking toward her, Sawyer extended his hand in greeting. When she met him halfway and placed her hand in his, he felt as if he’d gotten an electric shock. Meeting Regan’s eyes, he was pleased to see he wasn’t the only one.
“So,” she began and Sawyer heard her voice tremble, “you seem to have a lot of ideas for this room.”
Sawyer still hadn’t let go of her hand. He nodded.
And that’s when he saw it.
The bedazzled words emblazoned across Regan’s ample breasts mesmerized him. A Touch of Heaven, he read and actually felt the sweat breaking out on his temple. His gaze lingered more than was appropriate and when he finally forced his eyes away, they met a very angry pair of brown ones.
“The room, right,” he stammered and released Regan’s hand. “I was thinking with the high ceilings, it’s a shame crown molding was never installed. The lighting fixtures are outdated and a ceiling fan would work wonders. The French doors leading out to the yard could use a good rehab, as well as adding blinds for privacy.”
It hit him in that moment that he was nervous—and not just because she had caught him blatantly staring at her breasts. For some reason Sawyer felt that it was vitally important for Regan to see his vision and to win her over. Never before had the urge to get a client’s approval hit him so hard. It was quite disconcerting.
“That’s all fine and well,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, “but I don’t want this room touched.”
He turned and looked at her with disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sure my mother has already shared with you that I am against this project. If there was any way not to sell this house, I would do it. This is where I grew up; I have a lifetime of memories here, and changing all this around before we go is not something I’m happy about.”
Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest and studied her until Regan started to squirm. Finally, he said, “If we take on this project, I won’t be doing a lot of structural changes—if any. But you have to admit there is plenty here that’s outdated and in need of renovation.”
“Oh, I’m not denying it, Sawyer,” she said, her voice sounding a little breathless and a whole lot sexy. “But the fact remains that I don’t see why I have to make this house over for someone else to enjoy. I agree some paint is needed in the kitchen and the hall bathroom, but that was all I was willing to commit to. So, I think you can see this project is really a waste of your time.”
It was exactly what he wanted to hear—all the excuse he needed to get him the hell out of here. Yet now that Regan had said it, it was the last thing Sawyer wanted. Leaving here would mean not getting to know her and he knew right then, without a doubt, that Regan Amerson was someone he definitely wanted to get to know. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to get to know a woman, but something about this pint-sized beauty with wavy brown hair and angry brown eyes made everything in him want to know her. From the tips of her pink painted toes on up, she was like a present he wanted to unwrap.
In that king-size bed he imagined in here earlier.
The smart thing to do would be to thank her for her time, collect his father, and leave—cut their losses and run. But suddenly that was the furthest thing from his mind. Honestly, now that he’d gotten a glimpse of Regan, Sawyer knew he’d need to find a way to drag out the three weeks he’d anticipated the job taking so he’d have more time to win her over.
And there was no doubt he’d have to win Regan over. Between the issues she was having with her mother over selling the house and the fact that he was going to be the guy doing the work on the house, he was going to be persona non grata with her. Well, Sawyer could certainly be charming when he needed to be—and he needed to be right now.
“Why don’t you let me present to you and your mother what I have planned for the house before you make a decision?” he suggested.
“I really don’t think—” she began, but Sawyer brazenly placed a finger over her lips to silence her. They both stared wide-eyed at one another at the charged contact.
“Promise me,” he said softly, “that you’ll at least let me make my presentation to you before you say no. Your mother is very excited about this project and I know we can do everything that needs to be done here and please you at the same time.”
If that wasn’t a loaded statement, he didn’t know what was.