Páginas: 308 Géneros: 12:FR:Romance 12:FA:Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945) 12:FRD:Adult & contemporary romance Sinopsis: Some lines are meant to be crossed. Patrick That hair. That fucking hair. It was everywhere, always, and I wanted to tangle my fingers in those dark curls and pull. And that would be fine if she wasn',t my apprentice. Andy Asani was nothing like I expected. She was exotic and scary-brilliant, and the slightest murmur from those lips sent hot, hungry lust swirling through my veins. Outside my siblings, she was the only person I could name who shared my obsession with preserving Boston',s crumbling buildings. Andy My wants were few
"Sinopsis" puede pertenecer a otra edición de este libro.
"I fell in love with Kate's writing style and her witty, engaging dialogue." -- The Blushing Reader "This is a group that even after two books, I have grown attached to and love reading about! All five of these siblings are so different, and together they are a riot! " -- Book Babes Unite "This book literally had me laughing out loud at the snappy, dirty, funny dialogue. I adore Kate's style of writing, it is fast-paced, highly detailed and very, very funny." -- The Book Bellas "Holy hot potatoes!!! Does Kate Canterbary know hot to write a hot, steamy book or what?" --The Cutting Muse Blog Review "This book had me melting - I love that build up of tension between the characters." -- The Book Reading Gals
Some lines are meant to be crossed.
Patrick
That hair.
That fucking hair.
It was everywhere, always, and I wanted to tangle my fingers in those dark curls and pull.
And that would be fine if she wasn't my apprentice.
Andy Asani was nothing like I expected. She was exotic and scary-brilliant, and the slightest murmur from those lips sent hot, hungry lust swirling through my veins. Outside my siblings, she was the only person I could name who shared my obsession with preserving Boston's crumbling buildings.
Andy
My wants were few: good eats, tall boots, sweaty yoga, interesting work. One incredibly hot architect with the most expressive hazel eyes I ever encountered and entirely too much talent in and out of the bedroom wasn't part of the original plan. Apparently he was part of the package.
Wine was my rabbi and vodka was my therapist, and I needed plenty of both to survive my apprenticeship. Especially with Patrick Walsh leaving love notes in the form of bite marks all over my body.
"Sobre este título" puede pertenecer a otra edición de este libro.