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MORE THAN YOU KNOW
MORE THAN YOU KNOW
The Harrisons #1
Jennifer Gracen
Released Dec 29th, 2015
Zebra Shout/Kensington
A Zebra Shout Fresh New Romance
Hotel owner Dane Harrison, middle
brother of a wealthy Long Island family, needs a lounge singer for his new luxury
property. With her stunning voice and amazing curves, Julia Shay is perfect.
She also seems to be the only woman in New York City who isn’t falling at
Dane’s feet. And despite her feisty attitude and his rule against workplace
affairs, he wants her—in his arms, in his bed, anywhere and everywhere.
Julia loves her new job, and she
knows better than to think she can keep it and Dane. Even if he wasn’t her
boss, Julia’s painful history has given her ample reason to steer clear of
rich, powerful charmers. Still, their chemistry is unlike anything she’s known,
and when it becomes too much to resist, they agree to one no-strings night
together. But instead of quenching the fire, the intense encounter only proves
how much they have to lose—or win…
Julia made
her way up the two flights of steep stairs to her apartment, straining from the
weight of the four bags of groceries she carried along with her pocketbook.
This was one of the times she hated living on the middle floor of an old house.
She dropped the bags with a thud in
front of her door, searched her pocketbook, found her keys, and unlocked her
door. After kicking the door shut behind her with her foot, she dragged the
bags into the kitchen and started unpacking the items into the refrigerator and
tiny closet she used as a pantry.
She’d lived there for a decade
already. It had been twelve years since she’d left Boston and moved back to
Long Island. At first, she’d shared an apartment with Kelvin over in Edgewater.
He’d moved to New York with her, unwilling to leave her when she was so alone
and at rock bottom. Between her emotional devastation at the hands of her ex,
breaking away from her unsympathetic family, and her small income, being
roommates helped her slowly get back on her feet. He worked several gigs on
Long Island and in Manhattan, piecing together enough to be able to live on his
earnings. She found a quiet office job and a good therapist. For two years,
they lived together, until she’d healed enough for him to feel she was fine on
her own. He moved to Astoria, and she moved to Blue Harbor.
She loved Blue Harbor, with its
seaside New England–type charm. A sleepy town dotted with tiny shops,
restaurants, boutiques, and charming old houses, she’d dreamed of living there
as a kid. Now, completely on her own, she could. Her landlords, a kind couple
twenty years her senior, owned the tremendous old house and lived on the bottom
floor. She rented the second floor, and another tenant lived on the top floor.
She felt safe there. It was quiet, and although she was alone, there were
people nearby.
When the last of the groceries were
stashed away, she washed her hands and looked around. She’d given notice at her
job the day before, and in a show of petulant anger, her shortsighted boss had
told her to just leave. It had been sad to say such a rushed good-bye to her
coworkers, but as she’d left the gray, stifling office, she’d done so with a
smile and a rush of elation. The new chapter of her life was going to be
exciting. Getting paid to do what she loved most, and getting paid handsomely.
But she wouldn’t be starting the job at the hotel for another two weeks. Her
errands all completed, she found herself with nothing to do. It was a strange,
almost unsettling feeling.
Leaning against the small table that
was shoved against the wall, she drank down a glass of water and looked to the
window. It was a beautiful afternoon. Golden sunlight poured in through the
gauzy white curtain, splashing on the three pots of African violets on the
windowsill and bouncing off the pale yellow walls. She moved to the living room
and turned on the air conditioner wedged into one of the two windows.
It started to
hum and she sank down onto her couch. A glance at the answering machine showed
no messages. She reached for her Kindle, curled up into the cushions, and
played a few rounds of Words With Friends with the random strangers she’d
challenged.
After the games were finished, she
sighed. At this time tomorrow, she’d be in the city, getting a personal tour of
the new hotel from its debonair, charming, and gorgeous owner. Thoughts of Dane
Harrison floated into her mind, but she swatted them away. It was a shame,
because she would have loved a few rounds of sheet gymnastics with him. But no,
that would never happen.
What to do? Randi was at work, and
Kelvin was spending the day at the beach with his new boyfriend.
Though she
was a voracious reader, she didn’t feel like reading. She didn’t mind being
alone, she’d gotten used to it over the years. But sometimes she longed for
company. Restlessness, laced with threads of anxiety, stirred inside her. She
looked around aimlessly at the periwinkle walls, the framed artwork, her bookshelf,
her few precious framed photos on the top shelf. She’d done her best to make
her home feel cozy and warm. But there were times she couldn’t escape the quiet
emptiness there, the loneliness of her life. And suddenly, this was one of
them.
With new determination, she rose
from the couch and went to her bedroom. She stripped out of her sundress and
changed into a tank top and loose shorts. The SPF 70 sunblock was in her small
bathroom, and she slathered it all over her arms, legs, chest, face, every inch
of pale skin that was exposed. She grabbed her big floppy sun hat, her iPod,
and her keys, and left to go for a walk down by the water. The sight and sounds
of the Long Island Sound always had a way of soothing her soul. She’d just make
sure to stay away from the park; the sound of happy children playing would
break her heart when she was in a melancholy mood like this.
The next day, as Julia emerged from
the cab, her heart began to beat a little faster. Excitement and anticipation
fired up all her senses. It was a gorgeous early June day in New York City,
warm but not too hot yet, with the sun shining from a clear, bright blue sky. A
few trees dotted the length of the sidewalk, and a soft breeze made the emerald
leaves flutter and sway. The cacophony of city sounds—traffic, horns blowing, human
voices—seemed to fade around her as she looked up at the entrance to the
impressive soonto- open Hotel Alexandra.
This was really happening.
She removed her wide sunglasses and
tucked them into her large shoulder bag, shuffling around inside it for a mint.
As she chewed it up quickly, she tried to calm her suddenly rapid breathing and
swept her hair back from her face. The contracts had been signed and delivered
two weeks before, her photo shoot and press kit arranged and completed the week
before. In two short weeks, she’d be the headlining singer at this sleek
Manhattan hotspot. It was surreal. Her head hadn’t stopped spinning. And now,
between the warm weather, her meager breakfast, and her nerves, she wondered if
she’d even make it through the tour of the hotel Dane had invited her for—maybe
she’d pass out instead.
She pushed her way through the glass
revolving door and into the lobby. Thankfully, it was cool, the welcome air
conditioning flowing over her skin. She crossed the lushly carpeted floor to
the main desk, smiling at the woman behind it. “Hi. I’m looking for Dane
Harrison. I’m supposed to meet him here.”
“Ms. Shay?” the woman asked.
“That’s me.”
“He was here five minutes ago, but
had to take a call. He asked if you’d be kind enough to wait and he’d be right
back.”
" Sure. Could you just point me
toward a ladies’ room while I wait?”
Julia took the opportunity to survey
her surroundings as she headed to the restroom. This would be her workplace,
after all. From what she could see, the hotel was striking. Modern but not
trendy, everything from the luxurious furnishings to the décor spoke of crisp
elegance, style, taste, and big-time bucks. Dane Harrison had obviously spared
no expense in the design and decorating of his newest hotel.
She washed her hands, fixed her
hair, and touched up her makeup. The slight humidity in the summer air had made
the waves in her hair more pronounced, but at least the expensive product she’d
used had tamed the deadly frizz she’d suffered from as a kid. Her clothes had
barely wrinkled, for which she was grateful. The sleeveless royal blue silk top
and white pencil skirt still looked fresh. Her open-toe white wedge sandals
were comfortable but attractive. She took a deep breath, released it, and
stared into the mirror.
Forty-one, Jules. Took forty-one
years to get to this place. You survived. It’s your turn.
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Jennifer Gracen hails from Long Island, New York, where she lives with her
two young sons. After spending her youth writing in private and singing in
public, she now only sings in her car and has fully embraced her lifelong
passion for writing. She loves to write contemporary romance and romantic
women’s fiction for readers who yearn for better days, authentic characters,
and satisfying endings. When she isn’t taking care of her kids, doing freelance
copy editing/proofreading, reading, or talking to friends on Twitter and
Facebook, Jennifer writes. She’s shocked her family hasn’t yet staged an intervention
for her addiction to social media. But the concerts she gives in her car and
the dance parties she has in her kitchen are rumored to be fabulous.
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