Knowing Nichelle by Tinsley Sellers
Publication date: August 16th, 2019
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
She's just met the man of her dreams... but he's not who he said he was. Neither is she. Until they get a second chance to make a first impression.
Is he a sophisticated big-city lawyer, or an easygoing small-town woodworker? And if she's not a career-driven high-powered attorney, then who is she? Hiding behind their masks is second nature until circumstances force them to see beneath the surface and realize just how alike--and in love--they really are.
He's only got one rule: no lawyers. She's a lawyer.
Burned by experience, Buck's got a rule for a reason. After walking away from a lucrative legal position, he found his peace in Beckley. Life on the farm is simple, and his woodworking business is thriving. He's not interested in trading his work boots for wingtips and rejoining the rat race. So what if she's the most compelling woman he's ever met?
She's only got one requirement: no a**holes. He's an a**hole.
After a disastrous encounter in a trendy bar, Nichelle's convinced that he's an over-muscled a**hole. She's got a sleek car, luxurious condo, and elegant designer clothes. Family comes first, and her legal career is on the fastest track. She's never met a problem she couldn't solve on her own. So what if he can see beneath her carefully constructed facade?
They're perfect together. They just don't know it yet.
Welcome back to Beckley, Michigan! Autumn is in the air and as the days get shorter, the air gets cooler and the calm lakes reflect the blue skies and red-gold trees for a double-dose of fall color. The people are just as warm, friendly, smart, funny, and real as you remember. When you need a place to call home, Beckley welcomes you--and sometimes the family you choose is as strong as the bonds you're born with.
If you like small-town romance, you'll like Beckley. If you like smart heroines who balance demanding professional careers with a commitment to family, friends, and finding love, then you'll definitely like it here. If you like strong, sexy, hard-working heroes who have not-so-secret soft spots for kids, dogs, and classic cars, you may find that you never want to leave!
Knowing Nichelle is the third in the Beckley's Daughters Romance series. It can be read as a stand-alone story, but continuing readers will recognize many of the characters and locations. This series is recommended for adult readers and contains explicit language and intimate situations.
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"Damn."
I muttered under my breath, hoping no one had heard me. I watched with slow-motion detachment as a slender arm dripping with three diamond bracelets swung into my path. The manicured hand at the end of the arm held a mostly-full glass of red wine. As the owner of the arm threw back her head and laughed, I swerved, but not fast enough. The glass hit me in the chest, red wine soaking my white shirt.
The owner of the glass turned, her face changing from an apologetic smile to a sneer as I stumbled backward. Her companion, a short, thick man with slicked-back hair glared at me.
"I know the caterer," he spoke loudly. "And the Nelsons." His voice got even louder. "If you ever want a job in this town again, you'll apologize to my wife this instant. Now go get her a fresh glass--and hope I don't report this to your supervisor."
I took a deep breath and counted to five. My cheeks burned with a toxic combination of embarrassment and anger. My silk Akris blouse had probably cost twice what his JC Penney suit had set him back, and those diamonds were blatantly fake. Nevertheless--to them--I was obviously the help. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, I felt a firm hand on my elbow. I squeezed my eyes shut. Great, somebody, had already called Security.
I squared my shoulders and raised my head, expecting the worst and calmly preparing to go into full lawyer mode.
The bouncer was enormous; I was 6'3" in my heels, and he topped me by at least an inch, maybe two. His blue suit jacket strained against his wide shoulders and bulging biceps, and he wore a pair of heavy grandpa-glasses without a trace of irony.
"Where have you been?" he asked, kissing me softly on the cheek and wrapping an arm around my waist. Confusion blossomed in my brain as electricity sizzled on my skin. "Uncle Steve and Aunt Ines have been asking for you. What happened here?"
He turned his gaze to Mr. Cheap Suit, who refused to meet his eye. In that instant, I decided to play along.
"Now Darling," I threw myself into the charade and gave Mr. Nerd Glasses a reproving look. "It was just an accident, no harm done. They were just apologizing--"
Cheap Suit opened his mouth, but Nerd Glasses shot him down with a withering look.
"Are you okay?" he asked, still giving Mr. Cheap Suit and Ms. Fake Ice a stony glare. I nodded.
"Baby, I'm fine," I smoothed his tie with one hand. The arm around me was solid oak, and the chest beneath my fingertips was a granite wall. I shivered, as much from the chill of the evaporating wine as the unexpected thrill of this weird little one-act play. "And I spoke with Aunt Ines earlier," I improvised. "We're definitely on for this weekend."
The jaws of Cheap Suit and Fake Ice dropped in unison, and Nerd Glasses gave me a grin and an encouraging wink.
"Good," he nodded, planting another soft kiss on my temple that rippled along my spine and radiated goosebumps down my arms. "Let's go before Uncle Steve sends out a search party."
I muttered under my breath, hoping no one had heard me. I watched with slow-motion detachment as a slender arm dripping with three diamond bracelets swung into my path. The manicured hand at the end of the arm held a mostly-full glass of red wine. As the owner of the arm threw back her head and laughed, I swerved, but not fast enough. The glass hit me in the chest, red wine soaking my white shirt.
The owner of the glass turned, her face changing from an apologetic smile to a sneer as I stumbled backward. Her companion, a short, thick man with slicked-back hair glared at me.
"I know the caterer," he spoke loudly. "And the Nelsons." His voice got even louder. "If you ever want a job in this town again, you'll apologize to my wife this instant. Now go get her a fresh glass--and hope I don't report this to your supervisor."
I took a deep breath and counted to five. My cheeks burned with a toxic combination of embarrassment and anger. My silk Akris blouse had probably cost twice what his JC Penney suit had set him back, and those diamonds were blatantly fake. Nevertheless--to them--I was obviously the help. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, I felt a firm hand on my elbow. I squeezed my eyes shut. Great, somebody, had already called Security.
I squared my shoulders and raised my head, expecting the worst and calmly preparing to go into full lawyer mode.
The bouncer was enormous; I was 6'3" in my heels, and he topped me by at least an inch, maybe two. His blue suit jacket strained against his wide shoulders and bulging biceps, and he wore a pair of heavy grandpa-glasses without a trace of irony.
"Where have you been?" he asked, kissing me softly on the cheek and wrapping an arm around my waist. Confusion blossomed in my brain as electricity sizzled on my skin. "Uncle Steve and Aunt Ines have been asking for you. What happened here?"
He turned his gaze to Mr. Cheap Suit, who refused to meet his eye. In that instant, I decided to play along.
"Now Darling," I threw myself into the charade and gave Mr. Nerd Glasses a reproving look. "It was just an accident, no harm done. They were just apologizing--"
Cheap Suit opened his mouth, but Nerd Glasses shot him down with a withering look.
"Are you okay?" he asked, still giving Mr. Cheap Suit and Ms. Fake Ice a stony glare. I nodded.
"Baby, I'm fine," I smoothed his tie with one hand. The arm around me was solid oak, and the chest beneath my fingertips was a granite wall. I shivered, as much from the chill of the evaporating wine as the unexpected thrill of this weird little one-act play. "And I spoke with Aunt Ines earlier," I improvised. "We're definitely on for this weekend."
The jaws of Cheap Suit and Fake Ice dropped in unison, and Nerd Glasses gave me a grin and an encouraging wink.
"Good," he nodded, planting another soft kiss on my temple that rippled along my spine and radiated goosebumps down my arms. "Let's go before Uncle Steve sends out a search party."
About the Author:
Tinsley Sellers grew up in Chicago, spending her summers with her grandparents in a tiny town a lot like Beckley, Michigan. Life took her to Arizona, Washington, and Idaho before she finally found her home in Arkansas. She is married to an amazing, supportive (and handsome!) man, with whom she has rescued three dogs and two cats. When she's not writing, she teaches physics and engineering at the local university. When she's not writing or teaching, she's probably trying new recipes. She enjoys fast cars, loud music, fine whisky, and big books. In no particular order.
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