Wrecked

I knew the moment I saw her bent over the hood of her car on the side of the road that Layna was trouble. 

It looked like the opening scene from a porno—a shapely blonde in a short skirt waiting for me to tow her sports car out of a ditch and dirty up that sweet, pure body with my filthy mechanic hands. I could hear the bow-chicka-bow-wow soundtrack in my head. 

Then she opened her sassy mouth and everything about my reclusive, sensible, quiet life changed because Layna is not reclusive, sensible, or quiet.

Unfortunately, she's also mine.

We both knew it right away, whether we wanted it or not. But she's got her demons, and I've got my work cut out for me.

She thinks I'm big, surly, and overprotective. She has no idea. Whatever she's running from, I'm going to fix. Whatever she needs, I'm going to give her. And the sooner she figures out what she needs is me, the better off we'll both be.

Author's confession: Like all my Blue Collar Bad Boys, this hero is outrageous, excessive, overblown (heh), and overdone. Just the way we like them. He's dirty; she's sweet. He's from the wrong side of the tracks. She's a poor little rich girl. It's trope heaven up in here. Also, not to spoil anything but there might be neckties and bedposts happening. What would you do if the dude on this cover was bound and determined to let you do whatever you wanted to his body?