Title: Someone Like You
Author: Brittney Sahin
Release date: October 12, 2017
Buy: Amazon Universal ~ iBooks ~ Nook ~ Google Play ~ Kobo
He was a nameless guy in a bar–a man Grace couldn’t get out of her head…
A week later, she came home to find him sweaty and shirtless with a tape measure in hand, remodeling her loft. As a Parker-King, she’s not allowed to want someone like Noah Dalton. She’s sick of her life, though. Sick of the rules of being a Parker-King. She wants something more, even if it isn’t forever. Somewhere in history there was that one time where hot, no-strings-attached sex didn’t end badly, right? Finding comfort in the arms of a former SEAL is easy, not falling for one . . . not so much.
Noah left the military and moved to New York for one reason: his daughter. Not for some uptight businesswoman–a Manhattan elitist. So when Grace offers him the kind of relationship that no hot-blooded man can turn down, he should say no. And when her seemingly put-together life spins out of control, and his instincts to protect and save kick in, he should turn away. But he doesn’t.
Can two people from different worlds really live in the moment, knowing they’re on borrowed time, or is someone bound to get hurt?
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Until You Were Gone, Chainsmokers
Castle on the Hill, Ed Sheeran
Stay with Alessia Cara, Zedd & Alessia Cara
Blue in Green, Miles Davis
Waves – Robin Schulz Edit, Mr. Probz/Robin Schulz
Everytime We Touch, David Guetta/Chris Willis
Someone Somewhere Tonight, Mark Bloomsteel
Slow Hands, Niall Horan
Something Just Like This – Alesso Remix, Chainsmokers
“Sorry about him. I hope he didn’t say anything offensive.”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” she says while glancing over her shoulder at me for a fleeting moment.
“Right. Well, can I buy you a drink to make up for it?” I have no clue why I’m still standing here, but damned if I can get myself to move.
“Ohhh, I get it.” She slips her hand free from her glass and faces me. “Is this some party trick of yours? One of you approaches and acts like an ass and the other guy steps in for the rescue? It’s kind of a tired routine, don’t you think?”
Her pale eyes draw me in before my attention dips down to her lips. No lipstick or gloss. Just full, natural lips. Lips I suddenly want to pull between my teeth to see if she tastes as good as she smells.
This is new for me. This feeling of being drawn to another woman. Even after almost a year of separation, I can’t help but notice the tinge of guilt coiling inside me over being attracted to another woman. Sure, I had those random rebound hookups, but those were out of anger.
“No, it’s not a routine,” I say.
“Well, you’re not my type.” Her eyes wander to my hand, which is pressed to the counter at my side.
“And what’s your type?” I look at her. “Some guy in Armani with a money clip packed with more bills than I have in my bank account?”
Shit. Cindy’s in my head and this woman is fast becoming my target, someone I suddenly want to hate.
Although Miss Fourth of July looks nothing like my ex, she certainly reeks of money. Her clothes probably cost more than my rent at the docks. Not that I’m paying that much thanks to a friend.
But the huge Prada bag on the bar stool next to her could buy my meals for a month. And the bag is another reminder of Cindy, because the only reason why I know it’s Prada is because Cindy’s mom bought her a similar purse on our ten-year anniversary—as if that wasn’t enough to make me feel like shit. Yes, thank you, mother-in-law, for outdoing me about ten times over on my goddamn anniversary.
The woman stares at me with parted lips, not saying anything, and I get the feeling that isn’t the norm for her. There’s a slight bit of red pulling at her cheeks when she finds my eyes again.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, lady, but you’re not exactly my type either.” Okay, so I don’t even know what my type is anymore, but I’m not in the right state of mind to find out.
“Ah. You really are clever, aren’t you?” The woman’s smiling now. Her white teeth tease between her lips, but it’s the sexy way her eyes and nose smile too that has me swallowing.
“Oh yeah? How so?” I place a hand on my chest, forgetting Cindy for the moment. Hell, the way this woman is looking at me right now, I can barely remember my own name.
“You’re trying to make me want what I can’t have. You, in this case.”
I didn’t expect that. Women don’t talk like this where I grew up, but I guess New York is a whole other ball game.
“Oh really?” I’m keeping up this charade longer than I have any business to. “So you have everything you want in life, huh?”
She wets her lips briefly. “I do, in fact.” Her eyes drift away from mine, an attempt to hide a lie.
I step closer and bend my neck a little so our eyes meet again. “You sure about that?”
She sucks in a noticeable breath, and when I realize I have her roped in—right the hell where any man would want a woman—I back up and turn away. Because I know a woman like her can be dangerous, and right now, I have one person I need to focus on.
A splash of light shines beneath the door at the end of the hall. I swear I didn’t leave anything on this morning.
I touch the knob, a slight tremble moving down my arm and to my hand as I think back to the hotel in Greece.
My stomach tightens and burns, and my pulse skates to a faster speed. I slowly twist the handle, but my mind is protesting, begging me to run. My body is stiff and my muscles taut.
I should’ve run that night in Athens. Why’d I open that door? Why am I opening this one?
I inhale a deep breath, holding it—and it’s like the air in the room cocoons me and I can’t exhale.
I’m expecting the worst. Athens, part two. Another incident.
But once the door is wide-open, I see a man crouched over a wooden beam on the floor, a tape measurer in hand. The guy’s shirtless. His tanned, muscled back has a slight sheen of sweat down his spine.
He’s got to be part of the new remodel team I hired last weekend.
I bring a hand to my chest and try to calm down. To get my mind off Greece and back in New York.
“Who the hell are you?”
He’s a carpenter, right? I just want confirmation.
My hand goes inside my purse, and I search for my phone just in case I need to call the cops.
The man releases his tape measure and it retracts and snaps, falling with a thud to the floor. He slowly lifts his hands as if he can actually see me and I have a gun on him.
He rises to his feet. “Sorry. I work for Bella. She gave me the key.” He turns toward me.
My lungs deflate as if they’ve been poked with a needle, and I’m losing oxygen fast. It’s not because of Athens.
It’s because it’s…him.
Military Guy. Unless I’m wrong about him being military.
I’m never wrong.
“You.” His brows pull together and his hands fall to his sides.
I remove my hand from my purse and drop the bag to the floor. I’m more comfortable now that I know the shirtless guy isn’t some psychopath but in fact a construction worker.
But it’s the hot guy from the bar, which is still pretty damn bad.
“You’re Grace? I wasn’t expecting—”
“And what were you expecting?” I fold my arms and remain standing just inside the living area. He’s near the wall of windows overlooking the city on the other side of the room.
“I guess I pictured Grace as someone twice your age with a lot of cats.” A sheepish grin sweeps across his face.
I open my palms and glance to the left then right. “Do you see any cats?”
His smile deepens.
“And does my name sound old?” Maybe it does. The hyphen doesn’t help.
“Well, I don’t think that anymore. Now looking at you—Grace fits.”
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, and I don’t bother to ask. I blink and try to figure out what the hell is going on.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask instead, though I know this must be crazy stupid luck that he’s now remodeling my loft. Of the millions of people in the city.