For the Sake of His Heir
Series: The McNeill Magnates #6
Author: Joanne Rock
Publisher: Harlequin Desire
Publisher: Harlequin Desire
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 1, 2018
Release Date: February 1, 2018
Blurb
When a marriage of convenience is the only answer…things get inconvenient.
Gabe McNeill is done being manipulated. By
everyone from his ex-wife who abandoned him and their baby to the grandfather
forcing him to remarry. Now the only way Gabe can ensure his son’s inheritance
is if Brianne Hanson agrees to be his bride. They’ve always kept things
strictly business and this is no different…until she falls into his bed and all
bets are off!
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Excerpt
Brianne was busy scooping up another snowball, scraping red gloves through the foot of accumulation on the wooden deck. She’d traded her wool cape for a red down parka and boots. A gray knit cap was pulled low over her eyes, her ponytail covered with snow and hanging bedraggled over one shoulder.
His loafers would be ruined, but he had no intention of leaving the aggression unanswered, especially after he’d heard that laughter of hers. Had she moved on from their earlier disagreement? Or simply found an outlet for her frustration with him? He’d thought dinner would smooth things over between them, but if she preferred a snowy standoff, he was ready.
“I’d think carefully about your next move,” he warned her, taking in her pink cheeks and bright eyes as she stalked closer to him, the wind lifting her hair off her shoulder and whipping it across the front of her parka. “I can’t very well lob snow missiles at my new bride, but I can get even other ways.”
“You can’t play that card.” She wagged one gloved finger at him, her voice raised so he could hear her over the howl of the wind. “No veiled threats allowed, Mr. McNeill. I give you my permission to get into an old-fashioned snowball fight with me.”
He’d missed this part of their relationship. The teasing and one-upping. Only now, there was a new dimension to it thanks to their wedding vows. The possibility of things getting much more interesting.
“I’d hardly call it a veiled threat.” He kept one eye on the snowball in her hand as they squared off a few feet apart in the middle of the balcony. “You make it sound ominous.”
“Okay. No mystery threats, then. No suggestive innuendo allowed.”
“I draw the line there, Mrs. McNeill.” He liked her expression as he tested out the new name. Even in the reflected light from the house, he could see a flare of something that looked like pleasure in her eyes. “Half the reason I married you was for the suggestive innuendo.”
Her gaze narrowed as her fingers closed harder around the snowball. “Maybe I should have read that contract more carefully.”
They both knew she’d read it exhaustively, working on a tentative draft while her grandmother was in the emergency room. She’d changed wording in a handful of places and argued against several points of the settlement to try and decrease the amount she would receive after they’d been married for a year. He’d tweaked the wording as she wished, but he’d left the settlement terms as generous as originally written.
“You didn’t see the suggestive-language addendum?” He moved fractionally closer, ready to disarm her if the opportunity presented itself.
A light snow fell, or else the wind kicked up enough to make it feel like it was actively snowing. There was a swirl of white between them. Behind her, he could see the outline of the railing. Down on the far end of the balcony, he could see the shape of the hot tub he’d warmed up earlier. He shifted closer still.
“I know perfectly well there’s no such thing. We’re married for a handful of hours and we’re already at odds about the agreement.” She tsked and sighed dramatically.
“I’m the one who has come under attack, though.” He nodded meaningfully toward the hand that still held the snowball. “Maybe I’d be more amenable if you put down your arms.”
“And risk retribution?” She shook her head. “I’ll go on firing, thank you very much.”
“At such close range?” He put a hand to his chest. He only wore a sweater and a shirt in the chilly winter air, but the thought of touching Brianne heated him inside and out. “I don’t think you can pull the trigger on your new groom, Brianne. Not when you know how much I’m dying for payback.”
He closed the distance between them even more; they were so close his body blocked the snowflakes from landing on her. So close he could see her sway on her feet for a moment, as if she wanted to fall into his arms as much as he wanted her to.
Her eyelashes fluttered. She dragged in a slow breath.
And socked him square in the chest with the snowball.
His loafers would be ruined, but he had no intention of leaving the aggression unanswered, especially after he’d heard that laughter of hers. Had she moved on from their earlier disagreement? Or simply found an outlet for her frustration with him? He’d thought dinner would smooth things over between them, but if she preferred a snowy standoff, he was ready.
“I’d think carefully about your next move,” he warned her, taking in her pink cheeks and bright eyes as she stalked closer to him, the wind lifting her hair off her shoulder and whipping it across the front of her parka. “I can’t very well lob snow missiles at my new bride, but I can get even other ways.”
“You can’t play that card.” She wagged one gloved finger at him, her voice raised so he could hear her over the howl of the wind. “No veiled threats allowed, Mr. McNeill. I give you my permission to get into an old-fashioned snowball fight with me.”
He’d missed this part of their relationship. The teasing and one-upping. Only now, there was a new dimension to it thanks to their wedding vows. The possibility of things getting much more interesting.
“I’d hardly call it a veiled threat.” He kept one eye on the snowball in her hand as they squared off a few feet apart in the middle of the balcony. “You make it sound ominous.”
“Okay. No mystery threats, then. No suggestive innuendo allowed.”
“I draw the line there, Mrs. McNeill.” He liked her expression as he tested out the new name. Even in the reflected light from the house, he could see a flare of something that looked like pleasure in her eyes. “Half the reason I married you was for the suggestive innuendo.”
Her gaze narrowed as her fingers closed harder around the snowball. “Maybe I should have read that contract more carefully.”
They both knew she’d read it exhaustively, working on a tentative draft while her grandmother was in the emergency room. She’d changed wording in a handful of places and argued against several points of the settlement to try and decrease the amount she would receive after they’d been married for a year. He’d tweaked the wording as she wished, but he’d left the settlement terms as generous as originally written.
“You didn’t see the suggestive-language addendum?” He moved fractionally closer, ready to disarm her if the opportunity presented itself.
A light snow fell, or else the wind kicked up enough to make it feel like it was actively snowing. There was a swirl of white between them. Behind her, he could see the outline of the railing. Down on the far end of the balcony, he could see the shape of the hot tub he’d warmed up earlier. He shifted closer still.
“I know perfectly well there’s no such thing. We’re married for a handful of hours and we’re already at odds about the agreement.” She tsked and sighed dramatically.
“I’m the one who has come under attack, though.” He nodded meaningfully toward the hand that still held the snowball. “Maybe I’d be more amenable if you put down your arms.”
“And risk retribution?” She shook her head. “I’ll go on firing, thank you very much.”
“At such close range?” He put a hand to his chest. He only wore a sweater and a shirt in the chilly winter air, but the thought of touching Brianne heated him inside and out. “I don’t think you can pull the trigger on your new groom, Brianne. Not when you know how much I’m dying for payback.”
He closed the distance between them even more; they were so close his body blocked the snowflakes from landing on her. So close he could see her sway on her feet for a moment, as if she wanted to fall into his arms as much as he wanted her to.
Her eyelashes fluttered. She dragged in a slow breath.
And socked him square in the chest with the snowball.
Author Bio
Four-time RITA
nominee Joanne Rock has never met a romance sub-genre she didn't like. The author
of over eighty books enjoys writing a wide range of stories, most recently
focusing on sexy contemporaries and small town family sagas. An optimist by
nature and perpetual seeker of silver linings, Joanne finds romance fits her
life outlook perfectly--love is worth fighting for. A frequent speaker at
regional and national writing conferences she enjoys giving back to the writing
community that nurtured and inspired her early career. She has a Masters degree
in Literature from the University of Louisville but credits her fiction writing
skills to her intensive study with friend and fellow author Catherine Mann.
When she's not writing, Joanne enjoys travel, especially to see her favorite
sports teams play with her former sports editor husband and three athletic-minded
sons.
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