With: Regina Kyle
Hello, contemporary romance readers! I happy to be back at Just Contemporary Romance to talk about my latest book, A Nanny For The Reclusive Billionaire. This is the second book in my Worthington sisters series, and I have to admit it was definitely the toughest of all my books for me to write. It’s a bit of a departure for me, with a single dad, a cute kid, and lot of angst and emotion on top of my usual snark and sex. As hard as it was to get this one right, I’m so, so happy with the end result, and I’m thrilled that early readers seem to love Mallory and Rhys’s journey as much as I do.
Nanny For The Reclusive Billionaire
Nanny For The Reclusive Billionaire
Mallory Worthington has had enough of being treated like a fragile flower. She needs to get out of Dodge, as far and fast as possible. Somewhere no one knows about her childhood battle with cancer. A talented chef working at her family’s flagship hotel, she leaps at the first job opportunity that meets her criteria – personal chef and nanny for a reclusive and insanely hot billionaire in the Florida Keys. She doesn't know a lot about the nanny part, but how hard can it be?
Billionaire Rhys Dalton cut himself off from the world after his wife was killed. Living on this remote island was the only way he could ensure the safety of his son. Finding someone willing to help him take care of his child, well that's been a challenge right up until Mallory knocks on his office door. She makes him think and feel things he hasn't in years. He's smart, so he fires her on the spot.
But she's not going anywhere, no matter how hard he might try to get rid of her...
She had to stop herself from backing away. Collins wasn’t kidding about the barking. She hoped he was right about the bite, too.
She took another deep, unsteady breath in a futile attempt to calm her jangling nerves and cracked the door open. The room was in semidarkness, shades drawn, lit only by a lamp on the impressive mahogany desk that dominated the space. A man stood behind it with his back to her, one hand holding a cell phone to his ear, the other jammed in the pocket of his butt-hugging khakis.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said, lowering the phone. Good thing, or she would have had no way of knowing whether he was talking to her or the person on the other end of the line. It wasn’t like he bothered to do something crazy like actually look at her when he spoke.
She took the opportunity to study him unobserved while he finished his conversation. He was tall––around six feet, she guessed, dwarfing her tiny frame. Inky black curls dusted the collar of his shirt, a shirt that molded his broad shoulders and back as well as his pants showcased his butt. He’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows, revealing tanned forearms with a smattering of fine dark hair.
Holy hotness. If he looked as good from the front as he did from the back …
Stop. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Do not think lustful thoughts about your workaholic, criminally-attractive-from-behind new boss.
“I need that report by five,” the object of her lust practically spat into the phone. “And tell Mark I want to talk to him as soon as he’s back in the office.”
He ended the call without so much as a goodbye and tossed the phone onto his desk, turning to face her as he did. Any hope the full-frontal view would quash the dirty daydreams inspired by his backside was immediately dashed.
The grainy picture in the file Collins had shared with her didn’t come close to doing him justice. Whiskey-brown eyes, framed by almost obscenely long lashes. Patrician nose. Strong jawline. It all added up to a mouthwatering package of male physical perfection.
Why hadn’t she bothered to Google him? Then she would have been prepared for the onslaught of his sheer masculine beauty. If you could ever prepare for something as powerful as that. Or run the other way as fast as her short-girl legs would carry her.
“Miss Worthington?” His eyes, dark and appraising, skated over her less-than-impressive curves, leaving her wondering if the final verdict was desire or derision. Not that it mattered, because she was there to take care of his son’s needs, not his own. Or hers.
“Mallory,” she corrected, her shaky voice betraying the potent cocktail of nervousness and attraction coursing through her system.
“There’s been a misunderstanding. I thought you were”—his gaze traveled the length of her body again, the journey ending this time in a scowl—“older.”
His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head, effectively dousing any flickers of awareness.
Probably––no, definitely––a good thing considering their circumstances. It was practically a cliché, the world-wise billionaire and the innocent, virginal nanny.
“Is that a problem?” she asked sharply. She was twenty-seven, not seventeen. More than mature enough to handle a preschooler. Heck, she’d run a commercial kitchen, managed almost a hundred employees from sixteen to sixty, some of them no better behaved than your average four-year- old. Hadn’t he read her résumé?
“I’m afraid so.” He jabbed a button on the intercom on his desk. “Mrs. Flannigan, we’re ready for you now.”
Mallory shook her head, plastering several damp strands against her cheek and no doubt making her look even younger. Not helping her cause one bit. She pushed the sticky strands off her face and straightened, maximizing every inch of her five-foot frame. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry you’ve come all this way for nothing.” He crossed to the door, his powerful strides eating up the short distance, and opened it. “I’ll see you get the earliest possible flight home, and you’ll be compensated for your time and trouble.”
Regina Kyle knew she was destined to be an author when she won a writing contest at age ten with a touching tale about a squirrel and a nut pie. By day, she writes dry legal briefs, representing the state in criminal appeals. At night, she writes steamy romance with heart and humor. She is a two-time winner of the Booksellers’ Best award, in 2016 for Triple Dare and in 2018 for Billionaire In Her Bed.
A lover of all things theatrical, Regina lives on the Connecticut coast with her husband, teenage daughter and two melodramatic cats. When she’s not writing, she’s most likely singing, reading, cooking or watching bad reality television. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America and of her local RWA chapter.
Social media links: