Title and Author: Under My Skin by Alix Nichols
No. of Pages: 130 Pages
Series: Bistro La Boheme #2
Publication Date: October 11, 2014
Genre: Contemporary Romance
UNDER MY SKIN is the second novel in the addictive BISTRO LA BOHEME series. This delightful Parisian version of “Four Weddings and a Funeral” will entertain you with a gripping story, endearing characters and sizzling romance.
A tall well-dressed guy entered the bistro, dripping rain and hotness. He stopped by the door and surveyed the room searching for someone, his gaze lingering on the females…until it met Jeanne’s. He beamed and walked toward her, his eyes trained on her and full of warmth. Did he know her? Was she supposed to know him?
Feisty bartender Jeanne and geek-turned-hottie Mat embark on an emotional and sensual roller coaster, as their paths cross at an engagement party, a baptism and a wedding… not counting all the other times they “accidentally” run into each other.
And miserably fail to behave with propriety.
But Mat is an ambitious politician running for mayor of his hometown and going steady with an exquisite woman. He knows exactly where he wants to be five years from now.
Falling for Jeanne all over again is definitely NOT part of his plan.
A tall well-dressed guy entered the bistro, dripping rain and hotness. He stopped by the door and surveyed the room. Must be looking for Rob, Jeanne thought. She tried to peel her gaze off him and focus on the conversation around her. Easier said than done. Aside from his general attractiveness, the stranger was full of contrasts that mesmerized her.
He had long legs and narrow hips, yet his upper body was deliciously brawny. The poor fellow must have a hard time finding suits that fit. Speaking of suits, his was a sleek number cut from the finest, smoothest wool to grace La Bohème on her watch. The trendy jacket overlaid the lines of his V-shaped torso as if it were tailor-made. Which it probably was. On top of all that, his friendly clean-shaven face sported a masculine nose and a firm jawline.
Just as the mysterious hunk turned to survey her side of the room, Rob approached him and gave him a big hug. “I’m so glad you made it! It wouldn’t have been a proper engagement party without my future best man.”
“It’s a matter of having one’s priorities straight,” the hunk said. “I told the boss I was leaving at five thirty, whether we were finished or not.”
The guy winked. “Having Mom as my boss does have its perks. Where’s Lena, by the way?”
“Fetching her folks. They should be here in half an hour.” Rob patted him on the shoulder. “Now, why don’t you give me your wet jacket and go get yourself a drink. The party doesn’t officially begin until eight thirty, so you can chill and talk to the people you know.”
The hunk removed his jacket, uncovering an expensive-looking shirt–and a better view of his broad chest.
Jeanne swallowed. Was this guy real?
Rob took the wet garment from him and walked away. And then something weird happened. The hottie remained by the door instead of walking toward the guests or the bar. He looked around the room again as if searching for someone–his gaze lingering on the females until it met Jeanne’s. He beamed and walked toward her, his eyes trained on her and full of warmth.
Does he know me? Do I know him?
It was downright impossible that she would forget a stud of this caliber, even if she had met him during her wild teens.
“Hi, Jeanne. Don’t you remember me?” he asked when he was close enough for her to discern the hint of five-o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw.
“I’m sorry . . . Are you sure we’ve met?”
“Every day for almost two years.”
Righto. “Next you’ll tell me I used to go out with you,” she said tilting her head to the side.
“Unfortunately, you didn’t.” The dreamboat sounded genuinely sorry. “But it wasn’t for my lack of trying. I spent most of my money eating at this bistro just so I could see you.”
She gave him a puzzled look. Who was he?
“OK, you really don’t remember me.” He bowed ceremoniously. “Mathieu Gérard, also known as Mat. I’m a friend of Rob’s. We studied together here in Paris a few years back.”
“Mat?” There was no way this guy was Mat. “You can’t be him. Mat was . . . he was . . .”
“Nothing like me?” he prompted, the corners of his mouth twitching.
To put it mildly.
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I am an avid reader of chick lit, romance and
fantasy, caffeine addict and a badge-wearing Mr. Darcy/Colin Firth fan.
released my first book at the age of six. It had six postcard-size pages
stitched together and bound in velvet paper. The book was titled “Eliza
and Robert” and had atrocious mistakes in every single word. Some words
were written in mirror image. Unintentionally. I remember being immensely proud
of my creation.
out there’s a remarkable constancy to my life: decades later, I still love the
name Robert and the genre romance. As for my spelling and grammar, they are
only marginally better than at age six (thank God for editors!).
and work in Paris, France. When not writing, I read romance (what else?) and
spend time with my family.
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