Throughout her 23 years, Peyton
Prescott was used to running the show. That went into overdrive the minute she
agreed to become a bride. Born into an affluent Southern family, she was
expected to fulfill her social obligation to marry well, and found that unsuspecting
groom in her pushover fiancé, Leland Goodreau. He, like the rest of her family,
catered to her every whim to keep her happy, and she predicted a satisfactory,
if not boring, existence as his missus.
In fact, the only real human to stand up to this bridezilla from hell is Mateo
Bravo, one of the chefs she considers to cater the blessed event. Sparks fly
the minute they meet and out of sheer defiance, she hires Mateo and his sister
Naomi for every social gathering in the remaining months until she marries.
Peyton decides to seduce, and then dump, the middle-class cook, just to get him
out from under her skin. Instead she finds out that there are a few things in
life even the great Peyton Prescott can’t plan.
Excerpt:
She
joined her mother and Lissette in the kitchen, where they stood in a circle
completed by Marlena Goodreau, Lissette’s and Leland’s mother. None of these
females dared to enter the male lair, they stayed to themselves and talked
about the gardening, their charity functions and which of their country club
friends was screwing the pool boy this week. Business talk would have driven
them bananas, a language in which they were never versed.
Not me, thought Peyton as she perched
onto the barstool next to the island in the kitchen.
“Penny
tells me that you haven’t yet found a dress,” Marlena said as she turned to
Peyton. “I remember searching for my dress. What an adventure that was. I ended
up going back to my mother’s trunk and pulling out her dress, allowing the
tailor to make it a bit more fetching for my big day.” She turned to Lissette.
“That’s going to be your dress one day, my dear.”
Lissette
smiled. “One less thing to worry about.”
Marlena
nodded and patted her hand. She knew that whenever Lissette decided to marry,
there wouldn’t be such the fuss that Peyton was making.
But
that was just Peyton. She’d liked things her way from the crib, and didn’t
really care who knew it. Marlena was thankful yet again she’d been blessed with
low-maintenance children. She really didn’t think her nerves could stand
raising a child like Peyton. Dealing with her on a part-time basis was
stressful enough.
“Daddy
said Orrin was here,” Peyton said as she turned to her mother. “Checking out
the new caterers.”
Penelope
nodded. “He was, but he had to go help them when their van broke down.”
Peyton
arched an eyebrow. “It broke down?” Penelope merely shrugged. “I thought Rose
gave these people a sparkling recommendation.”
“Mrs.
McGuire,” her mother gently corrected. She’d been trying to train her daughter
in the ways of poise and demure ladylike behavior since she brought her home
from the hospital. Her work still wasn’t done. “And it’s a mechanical failure.
It doesn’t have to reflect on the quality of the food.”
“But
our guests are arriving and the food isn’t here. Not very professional, if you
want my opinion.”
To
punctuate her displeasure, the French doors clattered open and Orrin Ely swept
through with flourish and grace, topped with endless good humor. “Call off the
dogs. We’re here.”
Peyton
straightened as she took note of the beautiful, young Hispanic woman who
followed Orrin, holding a large pan in her hands. Orrin guided her to Penelope.
“Penelope Prescott, this is Naomi Bravo.”
Penelope
offered a limp hand for a shake as she glanced over the young woman in modest
clothes. Her white, button-down shirt was tucked neatly into clean and pressed
jeans, which led down her impossibly long legs to brown espadrille sandals.
“How do you do?”
“Much
better now,” Naomi answered with a brilliant smile as she tossed errant dark
curls back over her shoulder, tied up tight in the ponytail she wore. “I must
apologize for the delay. My brother didn’t see a board stuck in the middle of
the road and we hit it dead on. We ended up having to change a flat.”
“You’re
here now,” Penelope offered, but though the comment was gracious, her tone was
anything but. “Our guests are arriving, so I expect that you’ll be able to make
up lost time.”
Naomi’s
smile never faltered. “Of course, Mrs. Prescott.”
“Where
is this ‘brother’?” Peyton asked as she slid off of the barstool. “I should
think anyone with a pair of eyes could have noticed a board in the middle of
the road.”
“Peyton,”
her mother cautioned, but Orrin interrupted. “He’s outside cleaning up a bit.
Dirty work, changing a tire.”
“Well,
he’s not coming in here until he is cleaned up,” Peyton declared as she marched
toward the French doors. If one of her duties throughout her married life as
Mrs. Leland Goodreau III was to corral the help and keep her house running
smoothly, there was no greater time to hone this particular skill on novice
caterers who couldn’t even get to their event on time.
Her
heels clicked loudly against the brick terrace leading out to the sculpted
gardens. The white van sat parked in the back driveway, the back doors hanging
open as someone leaned inside. Any haughty reprimand she might have delivered
stuck right in her throat as the man straightened up and came fully into view.
Like
Naomi, this man was of Spanish descent. His jet black hair was cropped short
around his neck, with one lazy shaft hanging over his chiseled face. His body
was equally carved out of stone, which she could fully inspect because he wore
only a tight-fitting pair of jeans. The sight of his perfect six-pack shocked
Peyton into uncharacteristic silence as her approach noticeably slowed. There
was a raw magnetism to his being half-naked just a few feet away from where she
stood, especially when his dark brown eyes locked with hers.
Insanely
full lashes outlined his eyes, making it appear as though he wore mascara and
eyeliner. He offered her a whiter than white smirk as he watched her advance.
“Here to offer a hand?”
She
crossed her arms in front of her. “I think not,” she said. “I wanted to take a
look at the man who couldn’t even spot something in the road to avoid a flat. I
do believe you’re the first I’ve ever heard of doing so.”
He
shrugged as he took his sweet time sliding a white shirt onto his powerful
shoulders. “First time for everything,” he offered in good humor.
She
glanced into the van. “Is this the food that is supposed to be so wonderful?”
she wanted to know.
He
laughed. “You tell me,” he said as he reached in and grabbed three large metal
pans at once. “After all, you’re the one footing the bill.”
“My
family is paying you, they are the ones to impress” she corrected. “I’m Peyton
Prescott,” she announced, and waited for him to provide his name in return.
“Mateo
Bravo,” he offered in kind, with the same cheeky smile.
She
gave him her notoriously arched eyebrow. “Mateo Bravo?” she repeated. “Are you
some sort of superhero or something?”
He
laughed. It was a full, throaty, deep laugh that tripped over her senses in the
cool night air. He closed the gap between them until he towered over her,
reaching an arm around her body to grab a pan from the van. Their eyes met and
locked as he was mere inches away from her shocked face. His deep voice tumbled
over her senses as he said softly, “You tell me.”
Once
again she was struck mute as she staggered back a bit, allowing him to hoist
several pans into those powerful arms. The woodsy scent of his freshly washed
body filled her nostrils as he brushed past where she stood on the pavement,
his powerful bicep brushing against her chest lightly in the process, making
her gasp. He took three steps before he turned back to her. “Feel free to grab
a couple of pans while you’re standing there.” With that same damnable smirk he
turned back and walked into her house.
She
glanced from him to the back of the van, where pans were stacked high and deep.
With a defiant flip of her hair, she turned from the van and followed him into
the house empty-handed, albeit a little shakier than before.
Peyton Prescott has never wanted for anything and never will if her life goes as planned. She has money, looks, and the guy that will keep her in the lifestyle she's been born into, Leland Goodreau. Everyone gives Peyton what she wants, everyone that is except Mateo Bravo.
Peyton decides to make an example of the hot caterer and show him that she is in charge. Things don't go according to Peyton's plan. She is drawn to Mateo in a way she's never been drawn to any man. He shows her just how sheltered her life has been and makes her weak in the knees while he does it.
Ms Voight has done it again!!! She plunges you into the story and never lets you come up for air! Peyton is hard to like in the beginning and she should be. The song Rich Girl by Hall & Oates fits her to a T! But no one has ever told her no or that she should act differently. Mateo has his own reasons for hating the rich people he and his sister are contracted to serve. He wants nothing more than to use Peyton and throw her aside. Mateo is all alpha male and I wouldn't mind him cooking me dinner any time!!!!
I love how the feelings that emerge between these two change each one of them. Yes it is easy to see where Peyton has to change and watching her wake up to what everyday people go through is rewarding in itself. Watching Mateo change his mind about Peyton and give into his feelings is so sweet.
Their love is tested and they both have to give things up to be together. Can they make it?? Pick up the book and find out!!!
hosted by:
