A bullheaded alpha. The bane of my existence. I can’t escape him no matter how hard I try. The Bold and the Bullheaded, an all-new laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Willow Aster and Laura Pavlov is available now
Emma… I don’t do feelings. Spence… Emma Kingsley is the most infuriating woman I’ve ever known. **This is book 2 in the G.D. Taylors series. Each one features a different sibling and can be read as a complete standalone. A HEA is guarantee!** Download your copy today! Excerpt: I’ve just hit the button for the twentieth floor when a black stiletto and an exquisitely shaped leg stops the elevator from closing.My eyes get snagged on her curves and the blonde hair that falls like a lemon paradise over the front of her black suit. And up to the hateful eyes that are shooting venom at me. “You.” She spits it out like I’m a bad taste in her mouth. She wishes. I fold my arms and stare at the woman who has become the bane of my existence since the day I first saw her on another elevator. In another building. The last building my brothers and I renovated. She folds her arms and stares at me with the same disdain I’m throwing her way. “Is it really my curse to be stuck in elevators with you for the rest of my life? Not to mention my favorite pub ... and holidays with my family?” My words are crisp and to the point. She scoffs at me. Scoffs. Her perfect red lips are shaped in the foulest scowl known to man. “Old Solemn,” she says. Her ignorant nickname for me. I roll my eyes. “It appears you are stuck with me, yes. As long as you’re living in the same building as my BFF,” she says, looking down at her nails as if they’re more important than me. They match her lips. “It seems your brother and my Mya are going strong, so—” she shrugs, “you’ll have to get used to this face. Sorry. Not sorry.” Her eyes brighten and I know she’s going for the kill. “Can’t handle the heat, get out of the fire.” I’m happy my little brother Jesse is in love and all that shit, but since his girlfriend comes attached to this spoiled wench in a supermodel disguise who chooses every opportunity to snipe at me, it has created a complication. I don’t like complications. “She-devil,” I say under my breath. Her eyes narrow. “Stay on your side of the elevator,” she snaps. I shake my head as we go up, the floors creeping slower than a sloth trying to stand up. “Not a problem.” I stare straight ahead. “Although you certainly didn’t mind when w—” Her hand flies across the elevator and covers my mouth. “Stop. Right. There. We agreed that was a one-off that shall not be named.”
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