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Miss mechanic d'Emma Hart

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A paraître le 12 décembre en auto-éditions
205 pages
2.99 € en ebook 


 
Résumé : 
Deux mécaniciens. Une rivalité.

Elle prouvera qu'elle est aussi bonne qu'elle l'a dit.
Il prouvera que sa place n'est pas sous le capot. 
C'est tout !
“Ne laisse pas ces salauds te descendre.”
Pendant 26 ans, j'ai vécu selon la devise de mon papa. Ce qui explique pourquoi  “Mechanic Wanted” est le boulot qu'il me faut, dans le garage que nous possédions.

Et je rencontre le plus grand connard de tous. Dexter Ryne. Plus chaud que l'enfer en juillet et propriétaire de l'entreprise où ma place est  la réception, prenant les appels téléphoniques et paraissant jolie. Pas se salissant sous le capot d'une voiture.
Déterminée à prouver que l'autre a tort, nous passons un accord.
J'ai 3 semaines pour prouver ma valeur en mécanique. Si je ne le fais pas, je resterai au service téléphonique. Si je le fais, il acceptera sa défaite et m'offrira un job permanent.
Maintenant, tout ce que j'ai à faire est de combattre mon attirance pour le petit arrogant ...beep.

Le problème est : un engin n'est pas la seule chose qu'il sait faire ronronner...

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Extrait Vo

“Can I help you?” I asked.
He blinked and met my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing over there?” I pushed to stand up straight.
“Right now?” He capped his water bottle. “Well, honestly… I’m just thinking you’d look better over the hood of that car than under it.”
I unhooked the hood and slammed it down, spinning on the balls of my feet.
Our eyes met properly. I didn’t like what I saw in his—desire, attraction, need. Which was obviously why a shiver ran down my spine.
I cocked a hip, putting my hand on it. “The only time you will ever get me over a hood of a car is if a wiper blade needs changing. So, unless you’re a wiper blade...”
Dex pulled his phone from his pocket and started tapping the screen.
I blinked. “What are you doing?”
He peered up at me through his unfairly thick eyelashes. “Seeing if I can get a wiper blade costume for Halloween.”
“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“You can buy wiper blade glasses.”
“What?”
He raised his eyebrows. “And a lady here on eBay will hand-make any costume. There’s my Halloween sorted.”
I stared at him. “You’re not getting me over anything, Dex. Definitely not a car hood. No matter what you think.”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”
“Unfortunately not fatally,” I muttered.
“You also underestimate me.”
“There’s a lot of that going around in this garage.” I put the bottle of coolant away.
“Touché.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I sighed and turned to face him again. “What?”
Earnestly, he asked, “Can you stop wearing those tiny shorts? Or yoga pants that make me want to touch your ass every five minutes?”
I looked down at the ripped shorts of my dungarees. “Can you keep your thoughts to yourself? Control yourself, maybe? Not look at me and see someone worth screwing?”








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