Today I'm giving you an excerpt of the Lingerie Castle. I just love this book. LOL!
*** NOTE: This is a sweet romance and not erotica—no sex, violence, nor U.S. swear words. The title is just the name of Alexis’ business, not of her own making. No castle and no lingerie were used or abused in the writing of this story. ***
When clothing designer Alexis Carlson accidentally spills her wine on the Scotsman sitting beside her on the plane overseas, she has no idea he's Camden Monroe—the famous European soccer player, and the client who wants her to design an entire clothing line using his name. Even though she just wants to do her job, Camden takes her on a working 'romp' around Scotland, asking more questions about her family-owned business and her life than she wants to answer. Alexis can't date clients because of past problems, but when Camden's American supermodel ex-girlfriend wants Camden back, Alexis wishes she could compete, but knows she's destined to be alone.
"Bloody … Ye edjit!" roared a deep masculine voice with a pronounced accent.
Alexis Carlson's eyes widened as her head swirled at the sound. The man sitting next to her on the transatlantic first class trip jumped to his feet, brushing something from his light colored pants.
"Did you think I needed a dunkin?" he yelled again. Heads snapped their way with everyone in first class watching the drama unfold. Alex wanted to sink beneath the cushions in the seat, hating to be the center of attention.
She faced the man, trying to show her professional side. "What's the matter?" She was worried, but didn't want to let it show. Certainly he wasn't upset with her. But she didn't do anything.
The man faced Alex. "You spilt your red wine on me, lass." He pointed toward his pants. "It looks like I'm dyin', bleedin' like a bloody stuck pig, or have hemorrhoids or somethin'."
"I-I'm sorry." She wished for a napkin to help him pat off the wine, while still in shock.
"R-right you are," he snapped again, the rolling of his r's sounding like thunder to her ears. "A pretty lass like you should have more manners."
The people around them laughed, but it wasn't funny. Alex glanced up at the Scotsman's blue eyes and short dark blond hair, the heat filling her cheeks. He was adorable, with very masculine features, but he looked very angry.
If she could just capture that sexy look and market it, she'd be a millionaire and wouldn't have to be known as the 'Manwarmer designer' for her brother's and her clothing company.
She hated people being angry with her because it frightened her. Considering she didn't spill anything that she knew of, she was almost stunned.
After swallowing hard, she tried to don her best professional attitude, but it would be tough. Imaginary smoke wafted from the top of the man's model-adorable head. Alex wasn't quite sure what to say. She had to rein in any unwarranted comments and realize he was angry.
If he'd been someone she'd known, she would've joined the others and burst into laughter. But this was no laughing matter. He was blaming her for something she didn't intentionally do.
This was going to be a long flight and she really wanted to slink away to a corner somewhere.
She glanced down at his red-stained stone-colored pants then faced the adorable Rich-guy's face. "I'll pay for it. I'm really sorry."
"It's not the money, Miss. It's the point." Rich-guy fit this man. He didn't care at all about money, and she'd pegged him right. Typical spoiled European. She'd had dealings with the type before, after an awful experience with a client from Germany.
Staring at his face, she cringed. His angry expression reminded her of her brother, who could be scary and controlling.
Rich-guy continued in a very loud tone, much to her chagrin. "I don't have me luggage with me. It's in the belly of the plane." He pointed to the stain. "Now I have to go the whole way with bloody-lookin' clothes, right on the front of me pants."
The flight attendant appeared with a glass full of something and a napkin, handing it to him. He took the cup, dipped the napkins into it and wiped his pants while mumbling, the stain remaining.
"Want me to wipe it?" Alex asked, staring at his pants. "It's my fault." One of their Manwarmers came into her mind—'Peanutio the Elephant with the Thick Trunk,' or maybe 'Tommy the Troll with the Long Schnoz.' Either pair of crocheted and lined shorts would make sure the liquid didn't soak the whole way through to his skin. She was sure Rich-guy was feeling it, too.
"You're right it's your fault." He fell into his seat as the flight attendant walked away. "I don't want you to wipe it. You'd probably just want a free feel."
He had no idea, because the elephant had big fuzzy ears and adorable eyes.
She had to stay in reality and quit daydreaming. He'd just insulted her. "Excuse me? What exactly do you think I am?"
"A wench, no doubt."
"Me? A wench?"
What was a wench, anyway? From his face, she was sure it wasn't anything good.
"Aye," he said. "You're probably doing someone's bidding by being on this trip."
He'd hit the nail smack-dab on the head. She really was a wench, working like a slave for someone else. Allen did send her for their business, The Lingerie Castle, and paid for the trip, just so she'd do his job. Even though she had tons of work on her desk, he wanted her to go so he could keep an eye on his stupid wife.
If Alex just had a business of her own, she could get away from her family…but business wasn't her thing. She also had to meet with some celebrity client, and she just knew this celebrity would be a brat.
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Have a wonderful week!