Hardworking Evan is proud of his maintenance job in the new condo building in town. He’s saving up to buy a house so his brother has a place to live when he graduates from college. Matt’s trying to stay sober, and Evan wants to help him get a solid footing with a safe place to live.
Savvy real estate agent Brooke asks Evan to escort her to an event. She’s attracted to Evan, and after a pleasant date, she wants to see him more. Evan is not like the usual lawyers and business men she dates, and their attraction is undeniable.
But When Brooke offers to pay Evan to escort her to more events, he hesitates. He feels out of place at formal events. But he’s getting attached to the curvy brunette, and he needs the money. Can Evan learn to separate business from pleasure?
Evan’s Wish is a contemporary romantic comedy with a reverse Pretty Woman story.
“…a sweet, super-sexy Cinderella story… I loved every perfectly paced, touching minute of it, all the way to HEA.” – Melanie, Amazon
"...sweet with a bit of drama and heartbreak. Totally fell in love with the characters!"
"...a nice twist on the usual contemporary romance. I'm looking forward to more books in this series."
"...Watching Evan try to adjust to Brooke's world made for some funny scenes."
I climbed my aluminum ladder for the hundredth time that day, but my mind was on the sexy brunette pacing the kitchen floor.
Concentrate. Just install this alarm, and you can go to lunch.
I was going around to the condos in the building and adding a new alarm speaker to the interior of each unit. The high-end building was less than a year old, and the hallways still smelled of fresh paint. The fire alarm in the hallways had gone off a few times, but some of the residents said they couldn’t hear it inside the units, so we had to install speakers inside each condo.
The electricians had already been in to run the wires. I just had to hang up a decorative faceplate and help test the alarms. Tightening one of the screws, I dropped the second one on the floor. I cursed under my breath and climbed down the ladder, scanning the floor for the tiny screw.
The woman talked on her phone while she paced. The scent of her floral perfume filled my nostrils. She looked all business in her silky white blouse, fitted beige skirt, and heels.
“I know,” she said into her phone. “Yes.”
She crouched down and picked up the screw. I got a nice view of her shapely calves, but tried not to stare. When she held up the screw, I held out my hand, and she dropped the screw into my palm.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
She gave me a quick nod. I climbed back up the ladder and installed the screw.
The view I had from the ladder was distracting. The woman had bent over to shake some food into a pet bowl, and her shaking movements made her curvy ass sway. My screwdriver stopped midair while I watched.
She cradled her phone against her ear and picked up the pet’s water bowl to refill at the sink. I heard a loud male voice on the phone. I looked back at the grate so she wouldn’t notice me staring.
The truth was, I’d noticed 3B—Brooke Sinclair—on my first day of work three months ago. She was walking briskly through the lobby, her phone glued to her ear. She nodded at me as I mopped the lobby floor. I held the door open once when she was carrying in bags of groceries, and she gave me a brilliant smile, causing my skin to heat beneath my uniform.
I think she did something with real estate because I heard her saying things like “lakefront property” and “quartz countertops.” She was always dressed in skirts or fitted pantsuits and wore pearls or gold necklaces. She had to have money to live in a place like this.
“We’ll talk about it in the meeting tomorrow,” she said.
She sounded annoyed, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she paced. She had curves I liked, and her clothing accentuated every one. I liked a woman with meat on her bones.
I pictured filling my hands with her nice, round butt, hauling her up against me and sliding my hands up her ribcage.
I looked back at my work, knowing I shouldn’t be thinking this way about one of the residents. But I hadn’t dated in a while, and this woman was filling my thoughts every time I saw her.
“Right. Yes, that closing is next week.”
A gray cat sauntered into the kitchen, purring and rubbing itself against her legs. She bent down and gave the cat a scratch behind the ears.
“Hey, punkin,” she whispered. “You’re a good girl.”
The cat went to her bowl and started eating.
“Listen,” she said in a take-charge voice I liked. “I need to let you go. I’ll see you in the office later. Yes. Goodbye.” She hung up and placed her phone on the counter. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem, Miss Sinclair.”
She gave me her wide smile, and her pretty face lit up.
“Please, call me Brooke.”
“No problem, Miss…uh, Brooke,” I said. “I’m almost finished.”
I concentrated on screwing the new speaker faceplate on, mindful she was still watching me. I willed my skin to stay cool as I worked the screwdriver, awareness zinging through my body.
The units in this building sold for over four-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars. I was saving for a house of my own, but couldn’t imagine being able to afford that much—not that I even liked the building. The soaring, glass-filled lobby always seemed cold and impersonal. The individual units were okay, depending on how the owners decorated.
Units owned by single men could be pretty bland, but I liked Brooke’s unit. She had family photos on the walls, colored throw pillows and area rugs, bright blue and yellow bowls. Lots of books, and even a few board games. It felt happy and relaxed.
I put my screwdriver into my belt, climbed down, and folded the ladder shut.
“All done,” I said. “They’ll send out a notice before they test the alarms.”
“Thank you, Evan,” she said.
I looked up, surprised that she knew my name. She pointed to my embroidered name tag.
“Oh, right,” I said.
Most people didn’t even bother to learn our names. I hoisted the ladder up and opened her door. I put the ladder in the hall and turned to grab my toolbox.
“Do you like working here, Evan?” she asked.
“Sure.” I picked up my toolbox. “Nice new building. Nice people.”
She stepped closer, and I got a better look at her face—pretty blue eyes, long eyelashes, and a few freckles on her nose and cheeks. I thought she might be older than me, but not by much. It was hard to tell with some people. She wore a gold chain around her neck, and small gold earrings.
“Where did you work before you came here?” she asked.
“At the apartment complexes on Second Street.”
“I know them. A builder is looking to put up a new apartment building at the vacant lot at the end of that street.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “You know the builder?”
“I’m a real estate agent.” She walked to a kitchen drawer, took out a business card, and handed it to me. “I work for Turner Real Estate.”
I shifted my toolbox to my left hand and reached out with my right. Her fingertips brushed mine, and she drew in a sharp breath at our touch. My pulse pounded, and I looked down at the card to break our intense eye contact.
“Thanks.” I tucked the card into my tool belt. “I’m looking to buy in a year or so.”
“Good! Why don’t you give me your number?”
She pushed a pad of paper and a pen toward me on the counter, and I wrote down my info.
Silence stretched between us. Her gaze dropped to my chest, then slid back up to my mouth. It had been a while, but I knew when I was being checked out.
And I liked it.
Her blue eyes met mine again, and her full lips quirked.
“It’s been a pleasure, Evan.” She closed the door behind me.
I picked up my ladder and whistled as I walked down the hall to the next unit, thinking about blue eyes and curves, hoping I’d see her again soon.