Trophy Wife
Noelle Adams
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 6, 2016
From the New York Times bestselling author of Fooling Around
comes a steamy novel about a pampered princess who’s starting over—and the hot
guy next door who knows exactly how to melt that tiara right off.
Alison Davies used
to just be a trophy wife. Now she’s just flat broke. Thanks to an ironclad
prenup, she’s worse off than she was before the day she rushed down the aisle
with a wealthy jerk eight years ago. After her steep fall from riches to rags,
Alison refuses to shackle herself to any man who treats her like a
possession—no matter how good he looks in a pair of well-worn jeans, or how his
muscles ripple while he’s carrying her couch.
Underneath his
rugged exterior, Rob West is a gentleman. So when he sees his beautiful new
neighbor moving in, he’s going to help her out no matter how loudly she
protests. In fact, Alison’s determination to go it alone just strengthens his
resolve—and his desire to find out what makes her tick. But after one
spur-of-the-moment tumble in the sheets, it’s clear that their connection goes
way deeper. And that Rob won’t be happy until Alison surrenders to the passion
they share.
She was leaning
over into the trunk to gather up as many bags as she could carry when a voice
behind her surprised her. “You need some help?”
She straightened
up with a jerk, turning to see a man beside her wearing faded jeans and a white
T-shirt. He looked to be in his thirties. He needed to shave and his brown hair
was too long, and he had the rough look of a man who worked with his hands.
He’d startled her so much she just stared at him. “What?”
“Do you need
some help?” he asked again, gesturing toward her trunk. “Carrying all that in?”
She frowned. Who
the hell was this guy? And did she really look so helpless that she couldn’t
unload her own trunk by herself. “Oh. No. I’ll be okay. Thank you.” Several
bags were already hooked over her arms, so she gave him an absent smile and
turned to walk up the steps to the front door.
She had some
trouble getting her key into the door with the bags on her hand, but she’d
almost gotten the door unlocked when she suddenly felt someone behind her,
swinging open the storm door that had been propped against her back.
She gave a
little squeal of surprise as she turned to see the man she’d thought she’d
dismissed. He had twice as many bags hooked over his arms as she was able to
carry.
“I’m Rob West,”
he said with a slight mountain drawl in his deep voice. “I’m your neighbor across
the street.”
She felt
flustered now and annoyed that a strange man was walking into her house as if
she’d invited him. “Okay, but I said I could get the bags by myself.”
“I was already
over here. Why shouldn’t I help?”
Because she’d
said she didn’t need his help. Any basically civil person would have respected
her wishes. She really hoped everyone wasn’t as rude and pushy as this man was.
“Where’s all
your furniture?” Rob asked, looking around the empty house after he’d dumped
his load of bags on her kitchen counter.
“It’s in the
basement. I just got here today.”
He focused his
gaze on her, looking her up and down. His eyes were actually quite nice—a
really deep, melting brown. “Are you Chris and Sharon’s girl?”
She was startled
by the question, but then realized that, if he lived across the street, he’d
probably known her parents. “Yes.”
“I thought you
lived in the city.” He glanced down at her left hand, and she realized he was
looking for a wedding ring.
She’d taken off
her rings six months ago. “I’m moving here now.”
He nodded
slowly, as if trying to piece together her situation, something he had no
business knowing. “Well, welcome to town. I’ll get the rest of your stuff.”
“I don’t need
any—” she began.
He just ignored
her, striding back outside as if she hadn’t spoken. Arthur had done that all
the time—completely disregard what she was trying to say. She hated it.
Rob might be a
small-town, blue-collared guy, but he obviously wasn’t all that different from
Arthur at heart.
He came back
into the house a minute later with another huge load of bags. She couldn’t help
but notice he had really good shoulders, and his biceps were very impressive,
clearly visible beneath his shirt sleeves as he held the bags. He set them on
the opposite counter and then turned to look at her. “That’s it from the car.
Do you want me to haul some stuff up from the basement for you? You at least
need a chair or two and a bed.”
“I’m fine,” she
said, managing to smile although she really wanted to scowl at him. “Thank
you.”
He frowned. “You
can’t get it all up yourself. Do you have some guys who are coming to help?”
Now she frowned
too. “I said I was fine. Thank you.”
“What are you
all snippy about?” he asked, looking at her curiously.
She gave a gasp
of indignation at his clueless rudeness. “I’m snippy,” she bit out,
“because I’ve said several times that I’m fine, and yet you refuse to listen to
me.”
His expression
relaxed into almost a smile, as if he’d finally figured out her mood. “Oh, I
get it. I’m not some creepy asshole, so no need to worry about that. I live
across the street. I knew your folks. I just figured you could use some help,
especially since you’re all dressed up and everything.”
She looked down
at herself in surprise. “I’m not dressed up!” She wore a sleeveless pale blue
top, black capris, and sandals. The sandals had heels on them, but almost all
of her shoes had heels. In terms of her wardrobe, the clothes were very casual.
He chuckled—a
surprisingly pleasant sound. “Okay. If you say so.”
Allison heard a
familiar sound just then—that damned toilet was running again, after she’d
spent five minutes jiggling the handle before she left.
Rob must have
heard the sound and seen her expression. “Sounds like it just needs a new
flapper. I can look at it for you.” He actually turned around and took a step
toward the bathroom.
“That’s okay,”
Allison said quickly, relieved when he stopped at her words. “I’m sure I can
take care of it.”
He turned to
face her again, not looking like he believed her, but fortunately he didn’t argue.
“There’s a hardware store in town—just a block down from Dora’s. You can get a
new flapper, and they can talk you through replacing the old one.”
There was he
was, assuming she’d need help again, based on nothing but her appearance. He
could have no idea whether she was capable of fixing a toilet, and he shouldn’t
make assumptions.
She didn’t like
this guy at all. She really wanted him to leave.
She took a deep
breath, making sure her voice was polite as she said, “I appreciate your help,
and it was nice to meet you.”
“You really
don’t mean that, do you?” he drawled, an irresistible half-smile on his face.
She narrowed her
eyes. “I’d like to unpack my bags now.”
“Got it,” he
said, still smiling as if privately amused. “I’ll see you around.”
Finally, he turned to
leave. Allison was very glad to see him go, and it wasn’t because her eyes
drifted down to his very nice ass as he walked away.
Noelle handwrote her
first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she
hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and
currently resides in Virginia, where she reads any book she can get her hands
on and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.
If you'd like to contact Noelle, please contact her at noelle.s.adams@gmail.com. Or connect with her on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.
If you'd like to contact Noelle, please contact her at noelle.s.adams@gmail.com. Or connect with her on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.
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