Monday, September 28, 2020

Never Let Me Go

 With: Kianna Alexander


Giveaway Alert!


Tender, emotional contemporary romance—you’ll fall in love with this band-of-brothers and the


strong women they’re determined to win.

Architect Maxwell Devers is laser-focused on winning the contract to build a new cultural arts center—his biggest project yet. But as a single dad of a beautiful baby girl, he has to find some help if he’s going to stay on track.

Yvonne Markham is thrilled to get her first nanny assignment. She knows the high-paying job will speed her progress toward owning a child care center of her own. Maxwell’s daughter is a delight, and she quickly comes to love the bouncing baby girl. Falling for her handsome new boss, however, was not part of the plan…

Hang on to your heartstrings: This multicultural romance features a single father, a sweet baby daughter, and the nanny who falls in love with them both.

Like any good Southern belle, Kianna Alexander wears many hats: loving wife, doting mama, advice-dispensing sister, and gabbing girlfriend. She's a voracious reader, history nerd and craft fanatic. A native of the TarHeel state, Kianna lives with her husband, two kids, and a collection of vintage 80's Barbie dolls in Raleigh, NC.


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Excerpt: 

Yvonne clutched her black leather purse tightly, the straps crushed between her fists as she crossed the parking lot toward Devers Architectural. The conversation she’d had at the Wittenmyer office with Mrs. Cross thirty minutes prior was still playing in her head.


“You’re in luck, Ms. Markham,” Mrs. Cross had said. “You’ve been with us for a very short time, and we already have an assignment for you. I’ll need you to be at this address within the hour.”


After that, her boss had gone on to give a vague description of the job. A father had requested someone of the highest skill to care for his baby girl, and the client had offered a generous bonus to get someone over right away. Yvonne’s jaw had dropped when she heard the salary, but she’d quickly shut it. Wittenmyer was the top agency in town, and she didn’t want to look like a poor country urchin in front of Mrs. Cross or the two coworkers also in the office.


Now, as she approached the beautiful, contemporary building, she wondered why she was meeting the client here instead of at his home. She pushed the thought away, knowing she’d find out the answer soon enough. For a fifteen-hundred-dollar bonus, we could’ve met wherever he liked.


Entering the building, she stopped at the reception desk.


The petite redhead there greeted her right away. “Welcome to Devers Architectural. I’m Mary Alice. Can I help you, miss?”


Feeling her hand begin to cramp, Yvonne finally loosened her grip on the purse straps. “Hello. My name is Yvonne Markham…”


Mary Alice stood. “Oh, from the agency. Just go down the hallway to your right. Carson will be waiting for you.”


“Thank you.” Yvonne turned and went in the direction she’d indicated, taking in the soft-hued decor, wood paneling, and modern art. The place was immaculately decorated, but then she supposed she should expect no less from an architect.


At the end of the corridor, a rather nervous-looking young man with brown hair and blue eyes stood, tapping his foot. When she approached, he asked, “Are you Yvonne?”


She nodded. “I am. Are you Mr. Devers?”


The tapping stopped, and he seemed less agitated now. “No. I’m his intern, Carson. I’ll escort you in. He’s waiting for you.”


Carson turned and opened the heavy wooden door behind him, gesturing for her to enter.


Yvonne entered the room with Carson close behind her. It was a small office, and by Carson’s quick steps, it appeared they were only passing through. They came to another door, this one made of the same wood but with an intricate monogram, MD, carved into it.


Carson knocked.


“Come in,” called a deep voice from within.


Carson opened the door and stepped away. “Go in, please.”


Yvonne took three cautious steps into the room. This inner office was much darker than the outer one, and looking around, she could see most of the window blinds were shut.


Except for one window, where a man stood, looking out. His back was to her, but she could see his shape clearly. His frame, tall and broad-shouldered, seemed imposing despite the size of the room. Without being able to see his face, she couldn’t gauge his mood. The dimness of the room didn’t exactly make her feel  welcome. This was her first encounter with her very first client, and she didn’t want to do or say anything that

might offend him. She stood by the door, waiting for him to speak.


After a moment or two of silence, he spoke. “Come in, Ms. Markham. Have a seat.”


She eased to the chair by his large, oddly shaped desk and sat down, placing her purse in her lap.


He turned then, and her eyes widened at the sight of the sleeping baby in his arms. Sure, it was the first  meeting, and she didn’t know exactly what being an architect entailed. Still, she doubted bringing a baby to work was standard practice for professionals in the field. I suppose that’s why I’m here.


He moved away from the window, circling the room and opening the vertical blinds, all while carefully balancing his slumbering child. As the light began to fill the space, it became far more inviting. Once all the windows were adjusted, he came to stand behind the desk.


As she looked at his face for the first time, a prickling sensation went down her spine. The afternoon sun streaming into the room let her see his smooth, caramel-skinned handsomeness, and she thanked the heavens for the good weather. He had a strong jaw, piercing brown eyes flecked with green, and the most kissable lips she’d ever seen. His suit, a rich shade of royal blue, had obviously been tailored with care to fit his tall, muscular frame. She knew she should say something, but staring at him seemed to be all she could manage.

***

Excerpted from Never Let Me Go by Kianna Alexander. © 2020 by Kianna Alexander. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

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