Release date: March 23, 2015
To boost ratings and save her radio show, agony aunt CJ Stratt has no choice but to agree to a publicity proposition from London’s renowned playboy Jack Harper. They’ll go on eight dates, which she’ll tweet about to prove he’s not the unreliable wastrel he’s been painted as in the press.
Jack’s desperate to squelch his irresponsible image to insure that the business deal that could make or break his career goes smoothly. He’s willing to do anything, including dating this quirky DJ with pastel-colored hair and a sassy mouth.
Jack knows seduction, but he has no idea how to love. Love is CJ’s business, yet she has never been seduced.
Somehow, this business just got personal …
by Olivia Logan
Olivia Logan lives in the ever-sunny UK, where, if she’s not writing her newest romance, she’s planning the next one. Find Olivia Logan at www.olivialogan.com, and on Twitter @Olivia_logan_.
An excerpt from The Tycoon’s Wager:
What the hell had they done to his radio? It was bad enough they had kept his precious Jag in for a week too long, but this, too? Surfing through the channels only to be greeted each time with a grating buzz, Jack Harper gritted his teeth. Like hell was he going to pay for this inconvenience.
Glancing down at the radio’s blinking sign, his eyes alighted on the glossy cover of the latest Business Now magazine where a serious-looking image of himself stared back. The camera loved his all-American dark-blond hair, navy-blue eyes and chiseled jaw, but much to their consternation, he had deliberately avoided smiling. The deep dimples would only remind the corporate world that he was once viewed as nothing more than an irresponsible playboy who counted nothing off limits, even his father’s young wife. As the bile of the slanderous accusation burned in his throat, he flipped the magazine over.
It had taken time, but at the age of thirty-one, three years after taking over after his brother’s unexpected death, Jack was now able to fly solo as the face in front and the brains behind the operations. After finally working off the playboy label, all he needed now was to complete this latest deal, and then he and Harper Inc. would be global.
Flicking on the car’s headlights, Jack frowned into the misty darkness. Barring the odd orange-tailed fox, at almost two in the morning, the west London streets were deserted. It wasn’t often he couldn’t sleep, but since this deal had begun encountering difficulties, he had found himself sleeping less and less. His ex-stepmother’s upcoming nuptials didn’t help the insomnia. It only revived the scandal creating PR complications he really didn’t need.
He reached into his pocket at the small vibration against his chest, the bright blue of his phone flashing the name of his PR manager alongside the words, “URGENT. Midnight Hour Show. 109.3 FM. @HarperInc. Now!”
What the …? Had the man taken leave of his senses? And why was he using his Twitter handle? Not that Jack, as CEO, used that personally. He had a whole department to manage his social media affairs for him. So what had rattled the cage of the normally stoic Jim beyond the usual day-to-day rubbish the gossip papers could manufacture? Grimacing at the crackle from the broken radio, Jack turned the damn thing off. Pressing his thumb lightly over his phone’s screen, he tapped the globe icon, typed in the name of the show and clicked up the volume as a smooth, husky voice that made the hairs rise on the back of his neck began to speak. An agony aunt! Jim marked it urgent for him to listen to an agony aunt? Weren’t those usually old ladies who made their living butting into everyone else’s business? Though from the sound of her voice, she didn’t seem old. Her voice was beside the point. Tomorrow he’d find out what his man had been thinking to text at 1:30 a.m.
Turning the key in the ignition, he paused, his other hand clutching the steering wheel in a death grip as the words @msiheartshoes and Jack@HarperInc filled the air. There was only one Jack@HarperInc and it was him—and more importantly, his company. But how would the DJ know? His hand curled tighter around the steering wheel … where had he heard the name @msiheartshoes? That was the same company name as … his ex. If ex was a proper term to use. After seeing firsthand the way love turned a sane man into a fool, especially in the case of his father, Jack didn’t want any of it. Long-term relationships couldn’t be trusted. And now this woman, whom he had made no promises to, was tweeting an agony aunt for relationship advice. On him!