Working With Heat. Anne Calhoun
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For now, Milla Jackson is an American in London, but she’s also been an American in Paris, Rome, Prague and more. She’s working hard to combine her love of travel and growing social media presence into a career, even involving her followers in her (somewhat dismal) dating life. When the combustible heat between her and her best bloke, Charlie, explodes, she’s unprepared for the secrecy of “friends with benefits.”
Charlie’s an artist who’s already been burned by one woman who used social media against him. He’s determined to keep his hands on the glass he works with—and off the irresistible Milla, who’s sure to share every detail with her followers.
Will their best intentions survive a secret relationship? Or will the heat transform their fling into something that can overcome Milla’s fear of permanency and Charlie’s reluctance to trust again?
Dedicated to my sister Laura, who has endured more than her share of bad dates. Love you, sistah!
A big thank you to Angela James for her efforts and support, Julia Broadbooks for helping me flesh out Milla’s character over lunch in New Orleans, and Jeffe Kennedy for her thoughts on the draft. Finally, special thanks to Miranda Neville, who greatly improved this story with her insightful comments on the structure and generous assistance with all things British, especially Charlie’s background.
How did your last date go? Was he checking dating sites while he’s chatting you up? Glued to his mobile phone? Rocking a mullet? As any Cosmopolitan reader knows, dating in the twenty-first century can be both really exciting...and a real challenge.
Milla Jackson, the heroine in Working With Heat, knows this, too. An American girl living in London’s East End, she’s building her online brand as a travel vlogger, but her love life is one hilariously bad blind date after another. Milla doesn’t mind; she’ll finish the night at the pub quiz with her friends, including bad boy glassblower Charlie Tanner. But when Charlie becomes her lover, things get complicated. Can Milla and Charlie survive the risk that comes with sleeping with a friend?
Thanks for reading! Find out more about my books on my website, annecalhoun.com, and chat with me on Twitter (twitter.com/annecalhoun) about books, writing and whatever else catches your fancy!
Cheers,
Anne
Working
with Heat
Anne Calhoun
Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women
Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon
Contents
“Watch it, love,” a man said, extending one arm to stop Milla Jackson from riding her bike into oncoming traffic on Whitfield Street.
“Thanks,” Milla said, and flashed him a smile. Taking advantage of the traffic, she leaned over the bracket holding her phone to her bike’s handlebars and thumbed in a quick text.
I’m here & looking forward to meeting you.
Well, almost there. The Crazy Bear, the bar in London’s tony Fitzrovia neighborhood where she’d agreed to meet her blind date, stood across the street, not yet flooded with smart media types looking to unwind after a busy day. Milla shifted her weight and looked forward to relaxing in the outdoor patio. After six glorious weeks of backpacking through Sweden, Norway and Iceland, she was back in heels, working as an assistant at the Darmayne Gallery in Mayfair.
Her phone buzzed as she set off across the street. Milla returned the now-distracted stranger’s favor and tugged on his sleeve to prevent him being flattened by an oncoming cyclist, got a nod of thanks in return, then her phone buzzed.
I’m outside.
Okay, then. No Great or See you soon. She pedaled along the pavement until she found a spot to lock up her bike just down from a flashy yellow Lamborghini idling in a no-parking zone. Bike pannier in hand, she used the back of the hand holding her phone to swipe her heavy fringe off her forehead, then snapped pictures of the street, the bar, the car. She never knew which image would spark an entry on her American-girl-in-London travel website and YouTube channel, and the city was showing off in the middle of its glorious, warm, sunny, short summer. To celebrate the weather, she’d worn strappy heels and a floaty vintage halter dress she’d picked up at the boutique where her friend Kaitlin worked part-time, in the hopes that this date would be worth the bike ride from Mayfair. Lately her dates had been missing a certain something she couldn’t quite name.
But there were no snappily dressed men, young or old, sitting alone on the Crazy Bear’s patio. Bewildered, Milla peered up and down the street, then hauled open the heavy door and keyed Where are you into her phone as she walked into the bar.
The interior was striving to be the final word on flamboyant. Red carpet dominated the floors, while red leather covered most of the chairs and booths. What wasn’t red was black, with the exception of the white bar stools lined up in front of bar running the length of the back wall. In the afternoon light the picture she took looked like a bordello caught yawning in the middle of the day.
Milla lifted her hair from her nape and caught the bartender’s eye. “A