PRESENTS. . .
A Cover Reveal
Eight Days a Week
by Amber L. Johnson
Release Date: November 6 , 2014
Andrew Lyons has been running from responsibility his entire life. Returning home after a couple of years abroad, he finds himself jobless and living in close quarters with a sister he can barely tolerate. At her request, he searches for a job on Craigslist, but finds a room for rent instead. Or so he thinks.
Gwen Stone is in a lurch. With a new promotion at work and two young children at home, she’s in dire need of a caretaker. When Andrew shows up on her doorstep, she thinks he may be exactly what she’s looking for. When she offers him the job, he’s more than interested and she’s confident she’s made the right choice.
It shouldn’t be awkward at all.
But Andrew isn’t exactly forthcoming about his intentions, and Gwen has some secrets she’s unwilling to share. When the mom and the “manny” don’t have a clue what they’re doing, things are bound to get messy.
What do you get with two kids who don’t know how to be kids, a man who never grew up, Beatles Rock Band, and hundreds of hours of kids’ TV? A very interesting job, indeed. But when emotions get in the way, there’s more at stake than just an occupation.
Because life doesn’t have clock-out button. And neither does love.
The bathwater turned tepid, and I coaxed Brady out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel. He wiped his face and pretended to shiver. “Hold on. Let me get my towel,” I said, and he stayed still. I got out and secured the towel over my soaking-wet boxers I was now trying to maneuver in, and then I heard a loud gasp from the bathroom door.
My head swiveled around, and I was face to face with Gwen.
“I-I . . .” she stuttered and looked from me to Brady. Her face grew bright red and she pointed at me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m giving your kid a bath.”
“You don’t bathe with him!”
“Listen, lady. He wouldn’t get in without me. He’s got his undies on and so do I.” I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows. “Do you need me to show you?”
Brady glanced between the two of us, wide-eyed, the towel pressed to his wet lips, until Bree came in and took his hand to lead him to his room. Then it was just Gwen and me, squaring off. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, and her whole body was rigid.
I shook my head and sighed as I reached my hand into the towel and yanked down my boxers. I let them hit the floor and then stepped out of them before lifting both hands in a shrug.
Her eyes flicked to the opening in the towel, and her eyebrows rose an inch.
Oh, hello, Gwen. Meet Don. You two will be great friends.
I bent and picked up my clothes. “Now that you’re home, I’m off duty.” I brushed past her but stopped right next to her ear. “Maybe you could leave some instructions next time. Or at least tell me what the hell is going on around here.”
She looked away, and I let out a disgusted breath.
“Then I guess we’ll continue to do things my way,” I said.
“Your way? It looks like you’ve been watching Big Daddy and taking pointers.”
“At least I’m trying.” I took a step toward her.
Her breath grew shallow, and she trained her eyes on my lips. We were a hair’s breadth apart, and I could feel the heat rolling off her skin as her chest brushed against mine. “Want me”—I quirked a brow and she stopped breathing—“to go?”
She blinked and bit her lip. “No.”
“Okay.” I leaned in closer so I just brushed up against her thigh. “Good night, then.”
I didn’t hear her exhale before I hit the stairs.
Amber is a full-time mom and a full-time wife who is employed full time and writes when she can. She believes in Happily Ever Afters that occur every day—despite the obstacles real life serves up on a regular basis. Or perhaps they’re sweeter simply because of them. She always has two rubber bands on her wrist, a song in her head, and too much creamer in her coffee cup that reads ‘Cocoa,’ because she’s a rebel.
If she’s not at her desk, with her boys, or behind the computer, she’s supporting live music with her arms raised above her head and her eyes closed, waiting for the drop.