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Bride by Committee, Book #4

Bride by Committee, Book #4

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Loved this story. So cute!"

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I have everything I could ever want in life. But I don't have her! Enter . . .

The Matchmakers!

 

Bride by Committee

A committee of matchmakers chose Madison for me. How could I refuse?

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Loved this story. So cute!"

Tropes:

  • One or two secrets 😉
  • Alpha Billionaire
  • Adversaries to Lovers
  • Workplace Romance

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "A thing of beauty. I've already read it three times!"

Main Tropes

• One or two secrets 😉
• Alpha Billionaire
• Adversaries to Lovers
• Workplace Romance

Synopsis

A committee of matchmakers chose Madison for me. How could I refuse?

Organized, practical, private Madison wouldn’t dream of striking up a lengthy conversation with a total stranger. But a small—or not so small—case of claustrophobia plus a stuck elevator with no lighting, finds her doing just that and more. Like a passionate kiss! By the time they’re rescued, Madison and sexy, leonine Harry Jones know almost everything about one another.

Or do they?

Turns out they both have secrets they’re keeping—well—secret. And then there’s the small matter of Madison’s family who’s intent on a grand matchmaking campaign, intent on throwing Madison and Harry together.

But what will happen when all the secrets are revealed? Will her family’s schemes fall apart or will passionate, larger-than-life Harry find an irresistible solution?

Bride by Committee is a passionate, tender contemporary romance, guaranteed to make you a believer in happily-ever-after.

Note to Readers: Bride by Committee is Book #4 in The Matchmakers Series, a contemporary romance series by USA Today bestselling author and eleven-time RITA© (Romance Writers of America) finalist, Day Leclaire. This story features a hot, take-charge alpha hero and the perfect woman for him, and a sizzling romance between soul mates.

Look Inside

She could hear his breathing in the dark, unmoving elevator. It escaped with slow, steady regularity, carrying a strong, masculine edge. Was that even possible? Did men have a different mode of respiration than women? It sure seemed like it. His were manly-man breaths, Me-Tarzan, You-Jane sort of exhalations. Was it deliberate? Or did it emanate from some unconscious, testosterone-driven source that men weren’t even aware of?

Idiot! she scolded. This was Harry the Economist. Mr. Practical. Mr. Safe. A puppy dog friendly, woolly lamb, innocuous sort of guy.

And yet… Somehow it seemed not only possible that he was somehow seducing her with his breathing, but probable. Maybe he didn’t even realize it was happening. She buried her face in her arms. Dear heaven! He could be unwittingly saturating the air with each lusty exhale and there wasn’t a darned thing she could do about it but drag the sweet, passion-laden molecules into her lungs with each helpless breath she drew.

“You’re afraid again, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“Yes,” came her muffled response.

“How can I help?”

She lifted her head. “Just stay right where you are.” The statement escaped without conscious volition. It was also a dead giveaway.

And they both knew it.

In response, she tilted her face upward a notch, her breath feathering his cheek in a strangely erotic caress. And then he committed the second craziest, most irrational act of his life—an inevitable one that came on the heels of dropping everything and flying out to Seattle over a simple intriguing document.

He kissed her.

She inhaled sharply, stealing the air from his lungs. Her spine went rigid and for a split second he thought he’d made a terrible mistake. He started to release her when she sighed, relaxing into his arms and giving him back his breath in sweet surrender. Wrapping her up in an embrace so possessive he didn’t have a chance in hell of disguising it, he drank in her taste, each kiss as ravenous as it was reassuring. Her hands splayed across his chest, measuring the muscle-ridged breadth before curling into the crisp cotton of his shirt. She clung to him, not giving any hint of hesitation or resistance.
If anything, she encouraged him, wriggling closer until they were cemented from shoulder to hip. Her lips parted beneath his, soft and damp and slightly swollen from his aggressive demand. He accepted the unspoken invitation and delved inward, exploring with leisurely intensity. The urge to imprint himself on her rode him hard, but he resisted, unwilling to risk alienating her. The emotions might run hot between them, but they were also fragile.

They were in a unique situation. Being captured in a cage of darkness had an odd effect on the senses. Life swirled in a mad dash outside, while they escaped its relentless influence. It gave them an opportunity to act on impulses they might have otherwise ignored. That didn’t stop him from facing a few hard facts. If he started something now, he’d be taking a huge risk, one he might very well regret once reality put an end to this moment out of time. Sure, he could push, forcing her to give way. But how would she feel about it afterward? Would she regret her actions? More likely she’d resent him for taking advantage.

He just needed time. He had a woman in his arms who attracted him as no one ever had before. She was soft and yet firm, confident while still painfully vulnerable, intelligent and yet frustratingly stubborn. And he found every single quality more appealing than he’d have thought possible. Once he convinced her they were perfect for each other, life would be good. Life would be very good.

He cupped her face, sweeping her angled cheekbones with his thumbs. Her face fascinated him, possibly because he’d only caught the briefest glimpse of her from behind the book she’d been reading when she’d first stepped onto the elevator.

Her chin was well defined, no doubt an outward reflection of her stubbornness, while her nose felt straight and elegant. She had wide-spaced eyes and long silky lashes. Her eyebrows arched strongly and tight ringlets feathered her forehead. He couldn’t tell how long her hair was since she’d tied it up in some sort of intricate knot that rigorously subdued what he suspected would be a riot of curls. But she felt incredible in his arms. She felt like she belonged.

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