More
Than You Know
The Harrisons #1
The Harrisons #1
By: Jennifer Gracen
Releasing
December 29, 2015
Zebra Shout
Zebra Shout
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…
The sleek car
had already pulled onto the Cross Island Parkway when his cell phone rang. He
pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and answered with a
smile. “Hey, Tess. Almost at the restaurant, maybe another twenty minutes or
so.”
“Damn,” Tess sighed. “I hoped you’d
be running late, or I wouldn’t be. I’m still at the office.”
“Oh.” Dane let out a chuckle. Tess
worked in midtown Manhattan. “Well, that puts a crimp in our plans, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry. But listen, I
can make it up to you, and you’ll thank me later,” Tess wheedled.
“You’ll still stay over tonight,
right? I should be home by the time you get back after the club. I’ll see you
in the morning?”
“Yes, you will.”
“Good. Because I really don’t know
what time I’ll get out of here. Gotta finish this proposal.”
“Don’t work too hard,” Dane said with
affection.
“And hey, don’t forget to eat
something.”
“I won’t, Mother Hen,” she joked.
“My assistant already ordered me dinner, it’s on its way.”
“Good.” Dane looked out the window
at the passing scenery as the driver maneuvered the car from the Cross Island
to the LIE. It was early spring, and the trees were finally budding, a sea of
yellowgreen and white and pink. The sky was a deep blue above the branches as
the sun had just set, but sincethey were heading east, the changing colors of
the sky were behind him.
Tess had called him the day before
to tell him about the club on Long Island, and its singer. “It’s a martini bar,
over in Glen Bay. On Friday nights, they have a regular singer who does
everything from standards to Adele. Jeannie and her husband went there with
friends two weeks ago and according to Jeannie, this woman’s got a knockout
voice, and is something of a knockout herself. So, since you haven’t found your
chanteuse yet, want to go check it out? I’ll come with you.”
“Sure,” he’d said. “Your best friend
is a good enough reference for me. Why not? I’ve been looking all over
Manhattan; maybe I just didn’t look far enough east. Frankly, I never
considered looking on Long Island.” He hadn’t. And was getting desperate . . .
Now, Tess sighed. “I wish I could go
with you tonight! Damn. Sounds like it’d be a good evening. I always have fun
with you.”
“That’s what I’m here for,
Tesstastic: a good time. Rain check. We’ll do it again,” Dane assured his younger
sister. Only two years apart, they were more than siblings, they were truly
friends, and he adored her. “Everything else okay with you?”
“Nothing new and earthshaking since
yesterday morning,” she said with dry amusement.
“Get back to work, then, so you get
home before midnight. And eat, Missy!”
“I will, I will! Stop nagging me. Go
have a good time for both of us.”
“Not a problem,” Dane said
assuredly. Tess chuckled. “Of course it isn’t. Who am I talking to? Wherever
you go, you have a good time. It’s just a given. I think fun finds you.”
“Yes, I do,” Dane agreed with a
grin. “And yes, it does.”
By the time Dane strolled into the
martini lounge, it was close to ten-thirty. It was a nice enough place; not as
worn as some of the bars he’d gone to in the city, but not as upscale as some
of the others he’d frequented. And to him, there was a distinctly different
vibe in a Manhattan bar or club compared to a Long Island one—or anywhere else,
really. New York City had a feel and energy all its own. Nothing and
nowhere
matched it.
He’d grown up on Long Island, not
far from where he was now. The second son of a multigenerational,
multimillionaire family, Dane had been born and raised in one of the most
affluent communities on the Gold Coast of the North Shore. He had led a charmed
life, despite his family’s dramas, explosions, and scandals. When it was time
to go to college, he got out of that mega-mansion of misery and went out of
state. But neither his lively years as an undergrad at Duke nor his time at the
Wharton School of Business could keep him from returning to New York by his
midtwenties. He was a true New Yorker, it was in his blood. He loved living in
the city, he loved the business he’d started and grown there, and he loved the
vitality. He thrived on it. Long Island, though nice, just felt . . . muted.
Smaller. Quieter. And that wasn’t for him. Dane was all about color and sound,
living large, taking life for a ride.
He smirked as he remembered Tess
joking that a good time always found him. It was true. He loved life, so it
loved him back. He never dwelled on negative things. There was no reason to. He
was an upbeat, satisfied man, living a charmed life, so he just went with the
flow.
The bar was dimly lit as he found a
small table for two in the middle of the room. The waitress he’d passed on the
way in brought his drink to him as he sat down. He’d heard the last bars of a
song as he’d entered the midsize room, but now it was all applause. The
audience obviously liked the singer, or the song, a lot—plenty of the gigs he’d
gone to recently didn’t get such an enthusiastic response. In fact, some of the
patrons were too cool or sophisticated to acknowledge the entertainment, much
less applaud like this audience was. This, to Dane, was a good sign. He sipped
his dirty martini and glanced around to gauge the crowd before he looked at the
singer.
But when he looked up and saw the
woman onstage, everything just . . . shimmered. Maybe it was the air around
her, maybe it was the woman herself, maybe there was something in his drink?
Dane experienced something akin to when he’d done mushrooms back in college.
The air seemed to actually twinkle and glow. It was the damnedest thing. Dane
sat very still as he stared at her. Dark red hair that fell to her shoulders,
big dark eyes, delicate pale skin, and an hourglass figure made for debauchery,
encased in a navy blue sheath dress and matching stilettos. Beautiful and
sultry, her presence was powerful, tangible. Time seemed to hang for a few
seconds, spin out and slow . . . then everything was normal again as the singer
spoke.
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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