What a Woman (A Manley Maids Novel), by Judi Fennell
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After starting her housecleaning company, Manley Maids, one woman is determined to make it on her own. And what a woman she is… Now that Mary-Alice Catherine Manley—Mac—has her hunky brothers working for her, she can sit back and watch the business roll in. But her new assignment quickly tosses that plan out the window. Mildred, her grandmother’s best friend, needs her house cleaned and Gran has volunteered Mac for the job. The problem is Mildred’s cocky grandson. He thinks Mac’s at his beck and call, but she has a few things to tell him…aside from how hot he is. Jared Nolan is currently lying low, nursing some broken bones—and a bruised ego. The former professional baseball player let himself be used by woman once, and now it could rob him of his beloved career. No woman is ever going to call the shots again, which is why, when the bossy Mac shows up, he’s going to show her who’s really in charge. He’s just not prepared for the undeniable attraction between them. And with the two of them in one house, there’s no telling who will come out swinging…
What a Woman (A Manley Maids Novel), by Judi Fennell- Amazon Sales Rank: #1553300 in Books
- Brand: Fennell, Judi
- Published on: 2015-03-03
- Released on: 2015-03-03
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.75" h x .88" w x 4.20" l, .35 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 320 pages
Review “[A] clever and colorful author!”—Fresh FictionPraise for the Manley Maids series “Sassy and sexy…pure reading pleasure!”—Shirley Jump, New York Times bestselling author “Will have readers in tears with giggles.”—Debbie’s Book Bag
About the Author
Judi Fennell, author of the Manley Maids novels, has had her nose in a book and her head in some celestial realm all her life, including those early years when her mom would exhort her to “get outside!” instead of watching Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie on television. So she did—right into Dad’s hammock with her Nancy Drew books. These days she’s more likely to have her nose in her laptop and her head (and the rest of her) at a favorite writing spot, but she’s still reading either her latest manuscript or her friends’ books, or helping authors bring their books to readers with her formatting business. A PRISM and Golden Leaf Award–winner, Judi is the author of lighthearted romantic comedies. She lives in suburban Philadelphia with her own menagerie—which might just include a few of the two-legged kind.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Acknowledgments
Guys’ Night Out . . . Plus One
THREE hunks in aprons were the best advertising in the world for a maid service. Make one of them a Hollywood movie star, and there was no way Mary-Alice Catherine Manley could fail to get the publicity her fledgling business needed.
Make all three of them her brothers, and the picture only got better.
“You really won?” Gran gripped the doily-covered arm rests and leaned forward when Mac returned from the watershed poker game with her brothers. “Oh Mary-Alice Catherine! I wish I’d been there.”
“Me, too, Gran.” But it’d been enough of a coup to get a “you can play” from the three of them; there’d been no reason to push for an invitation for Gran, too. That would have raised too many red flags and maybe given their plan away. “You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when I told them they’d all have to be fitted for Manley Maids uniforms. I wish I’d had a camera.”
She’d make sure there were plenty of cameras around when her brothers started work on Monday.
“So who are you going to pair them up with?” asked Gran, who was onboard with the plan in hopes of getting the brothers married off. Whatever worked. Mac just wanted the publicity. “We have to plan carefully. You know the kind of crazy that follows Bryan around.”
Bryan was the Hollywood movie star, and Mac didn’t think he minded crazy. He’d taken to that lifestyle like a duck to water. ’Course, you had to teach a duck to swim, as odd as that sounded, so maybe she and Gran could teach Bry a thing or two about women, since his recent choices were about as feather-brained as ducks.
Mac plopped onto the sofa that’d been in the same spot for the twenty-six years she’d lived with Gran after their parents had died in the car accident, the worn depression cradling her butt as usual. “I was thinking I’d tell them when they pick up their uniforms. That’ll give you some more time to figure out where you want them. Though Sean’s already called dibs on the Martinson estate. I didn’t see any reason to object.”
Gran tapped her bow-shaped lips. “The Martinson estate? But it’s empty. He won’t meet anyone that way, Mary-Alice Catherine.”
Mac let her full name go by. Gran was the only one who used it since she’d dubbed herself Mac, back when she’d done anything to be like her brothers—male name, included. Given that tonight’s poker game was her attempt to catapult her company into the same kind of success her brothers had earned for themselves, she hadn’t gotten over that competitiveness yet, had she?
But tonight was her win, fair and square. Well, maybe not quite so fair. She had spent a lot of hours learning to play poker online and to count cards to improve her chances, but her brothers played together every month. She had to even the odds.
Tonight she’d beaten them at their own game and she was going to enjoy every minute of her victory and the possibilities it meant.
And Bry had said she had nothing comparable to what he, Sean, and Liam had to bet on the game? Clearly, he had no idea. Yep, she was definitely going to enjoy the win.
“Actually, Gran, the Martinson house won’t be empty. Merriweather’s granddaughter is moving in. Besides, Sean specifically requested that place. It would have looked odd if I’d said he couldn’t have it. Maybe he’ll fall in love with the granddaughter.” And maybe pigs would fly, but if it kept Gran’s spirits up and created enough word-of-mouth, this was worth every bit of her hard work.
“The granddaughter, huh?” Gran tapped her forefingers together. “It just might work. But what about Bryan? We can’t assign him to just anyone. It’ll have to be someone who won’t mind having Mr. Movie Star around.”
Gran said it with more love than the rest of them did when ragging on Bryan about his stardom. Ever since he’d gotten a role with one of the biggest female leads in the industry, they hadn’t been able to resist teasing him, and Bryan hadn’t been able to stop smiling. Until tonight.
“I really think he should help that widow you just had a call about. The one with all those children.”
“You want me to send Bryan into a house with five kids? Gran, that’ll drive him nuts.”
“Or teach him tolerance. We don’t want him getting too big for his britches, do we?”
Gran had a point. And Mac would like to see Bryan try to clean a house overrun with five kids. None of her brothers were the quitting type, but this would test Bryan’s mettle. She owed him a lot more than that for the pranks he’d pulled on her over the years.
“Okay, so what about Lee then, Gran?”
“Oh I know the perfect place for Liam. That nice Cassidy girl. She’s going to be lonely when Sharon leaves to have her baby. Liam can keep her company.”
“What do you have against Liam?” Cassidy Davenport was as spoiled and high maintenance as they came. More Bry’s type, but if Bryan went there, the only thing he’d end up cleaning would be Cassidy’s sheets. And the shower stall. And the table top . . .
“Now Mary-Alice Catherine Manley.”
Mac winced. The first time Gran had said all four of her names in that tone, she hadn’t felt the layer of skin it sliced off for about an hour. The effect hadn’t lessened over the years.
“That Cassidy girl simply needs someone to pay attention to her. And our Liam needs to get his head out of his—well, off himself and into the rest of society. Have you noticed how preoccupied he’s been since he broke things off with Rachel? It’s not good, and if anyone can take Liam out of himself, it’s that Cassidy.”
The problem was, Cassidy was just like Rachel, though on a far bigger scale: all designer-this and celebrity-event-that. Rachel had put Liam through the wringer and Mac wasn’t so sure shoving a replica-on-steroids in his face was all that kind. Still, he definitely wouldn’t fall in love with Cassidy, so she’d actually be doing Liam a favor by thwarting Gran’s matchmaking attempts.
She felt sorry for the guy. He was the only one of her brothers to have come close to the altar, and the fallout had been tough to witness.
“Okay, but if he wants to bite my head off, you need to talk him out of it.”
“Never fear, honey. Your brother will love it.”
Mac wasn’t so sure about that, but she wasn’t about to argue with Gran. Her grandmother had raised four grandchildren on meager savings, love, and not much else. The woman had grit.
“Oh. I forgot to mention something.”
“What, Gran?” Mac hid her worry. Gran had been forgetting a lot of things lately. That was one reason she’d agreed to Gran’s wacky plan of trying to marry off her brothers while having them work for Manley Maids, even if the chances were as slim as . . . well, as Mac being able to pull off a win tonight. And lightning rarely struck in the same place twice. Still, it’d give Gran something to keep her mind occupied.
“Mildred’s grandson moved back home this week.” Mildred was her grandmother’s childhood friend whose recent move into an assisted living facility had spurred Gran to do the same. “You remember Jared? The one who was injured in that car accident?”
“Yes, Gran. I remember Jared.” As if she could forget him. Besides being a professional baseball player who’d sustained season-ending injuries in a bad car accident, and being her oldest brother’s best friend since forever, Jared had been her first crush. And her longest. And her most embarrassing. She’d followed him around like a star-struck teenager. And that’d been before she’d been a teenager. God, she’d fallen out of the tree fort once when she’d been spying on him, only to land on him and his date and, well, it hadn’t been her best moment.
It also, sadly, hadn’t been her worst.
“Well Mildred and I were chatting and it came up that now that Jared has moved back, he could use help, what with the house being so old and his injuries. It’s been tough for her to keep ahead of it, and, well, one thing led to another, and she wants to hire you to clean it. Isn’t that wonderful? I rounded up some business for you and you can help Jared out, too.”
That was her grandmother: kindest heart this side of the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Too bad it was with her biggest nightmare.
Mac gritted her teeth. Refusing would be childish and petty—and it’d make Gran ask too many questions. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had to do the cleaning. She wouldn’t even have to see Jared. “Yes, Gran, it sure is. When does she want someone?”
“Not someone, dear. You. I told her you’d come. Mildred doesn’t want just anyone in her home.”
Great. So much for that idea.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. To see Jared . . . All that humiliation hitting her right in the face again . . .
But arguing with Gran was fruitless; she’d win in the end anyway. Mac had learned that early in her teenage years, which had saved them both a lot of angst.
She just hoped she was lucky enough that Jared wouldn’t remember that night she’d never forget.
Then again, she might have used up all her luck in the poker game.
She sighed. “When am I supposed to be there, Gran?”
“Tuesday, dear. This Tuesday.”
Which gave her three days to gird herself to see him again.
It wasn’t going to be enough.
But she was a big girl; she could do this. After all, she wasn’t that same girl who thought Jared was the only man alive. And considering his relationships kept par with his homeruns, she wasn’t the only one to think so. And if there was one thing Mac Manley could never abide, it was being one of a pack. Jared no longer held any thrill for her.
“Okay, Gran. Tuesday it is. I’ll be there with bells on.”
Chapter One
THE woman had bells on.
Jared blinked, then rubbed his eyes and looked out the front window again.
She wore bells.
Then she rang his bell.
And, yeah, she was a pretty little thing, so she did kind of ring his bell.
She rang it again—the doorbell, not his bell.
Jared shook his head and willed his legs to move. Well, the working one. The other just hung there and let his crutches do the work. Funny how he still thought about the mechanics even though his muscles now made the actions on their own, but then, habits you taught yourself when relearning to walk tended to stick.
He opened the door just as she went to knock on it with the pot in her hands, and Jared had to jump back to avoid hot soup—which sent pain shooting through him and almost took the crutches out from under him.
Damn. His body might have been repaired by the best surgeons in the country, but idiotic moves like that reminded him real quick of what he’d gone through—both during and after the accident.
Other things he’d learned when relearning to walk also stuck.
The woman’s bells jangled. “Hello. I’m—”
“Wearing bells.”
“Not exactly.” She hefted a pot of delicious-smelling something with a, “Here. Hold this,” at him and he had to shove his crutches into his armpits to balance on them and his good leg. “Actually, I’m carrying them. My grandmother thought you might want them back.” She hefted a leather slab of sleigh bells off her shoulder, knocking her baseball cap askew. “Where do you want ’em?”
The woman was about five-two, yet entered the house like a tornado. Jangling bells included.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on bells in my future.” Jared waved the pot toward the left. “Just drop them on the chair over there.”
She did. Dropped them right onto the chair. Then they slid off and hit the hardwood floor with a nerve-destroying reverberation. He hoped to hell they hadn’t destroyed the floor.
And then he saw her outfit. Matching green pants and shirt with MANLEY MAIDS embroidered over the left breast pocket.
Oh shit. He knew exactly why this woman had entered the house like a tornado—she was a tornado. Mac Manley could stir things up like only acts of God and Nature could.
Liam’s little sister had been the shadow they couldn’t shake their entire childhood, and her crush on him . . . Talk about embarrassing. And annoying. Every time he turned around she’d needed to be rescued because she’d tripped or fallen or hurt herself thanks to the stars in her eyes whenever she’d looked his way. And the nightmare she’d put his dates through . . . Jared shook his head. She’d caused him no end of trouble.
And if that uniform and her presence meant what he thought they did, he could guarantee she’d end up causing him even more.
Jared took two crutch-swinging hop steps with the pot, and—yeah. That wasn’t going to work. Some sloshed out from under the lid and damn if it wasn’t hot. Not even five minutes and his prediction had come true. “Hey, a hand here?”
She looked at him as if he had two heads.
He picked his crutches up by clenching his arms against his torso and lifting them with his armpits. “Injury?”
“Oh. Crud.” She grabbed the pot and carried it into the kitchen, steam rising from the pot when she set it on the counter. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You okay?”
Okay? With busted ribs, a couple titanium rods, a bum knee, and the prospect of arthritis at an early age, not to mention a career on a downward slide thanks to the so-called accident his former girlfriend Camille’s boyfriend had caused, and now Mac, here, in his grandmother’s home where he was recuperating, looking hotter than his best friend’s terror of a sister had a right to?
No, he sure as hell wasn’t okay.
* * *
JARED Nolan had certainly filled out nicely.
It was Mac’s first thought at her first up-close and personal glimpse of the baseball hero who’d filled her dreams long before that going-away party his parents had thrown to kick off his major league baseball career.
But he could work those crutches something fierce, and his flexing chest and biceps were a nice result. Abs and thighs, too. Physical therapy had done good things besides getting him upright again because he certainly didn’t look as if he’d come close to death. Matter of fact, he looked to be the picture of health, the perfect cover model for the men’s health magazine he’d been on before the accident.
She was very sorry to admit to herself that she had looked at that cover. A few times.
But she wasn’t here to ogle the client. She never ogled clients. She never ogled anyone. Especially Jared. She’d worked so hard to make Manley Maids successful that by the time she could look at anything other than work, her eyes were crossed with exhaustion.
He, however, definitely straightened them out.
Get over it, Mac. Remember your embarrassment? Remember his derision?
The night she’d turned seventeen came back in humiliating clarity. She’d followed him out of the house, certain the reason he’d been at her birthday dinner had more to do with her—finally—than hanging with Liam. She’d just known he was going to give her her first kiss.
But then he’d headed down the walk and she’d run after him, grabbing his arm before he could leave.
She still cringed at the memory.
“What do you want, Mac?” he’d asked, shrugging into the black hoodie that had made his blond hair blonder and his green eyes greener. Not to mention the way it’d hugged his broad, sculpted shoulders and arms that she’d imagined wrapped around her more times than she could count.
“I want you to kiss me, Jared.” She’d nibbled her lip nervously, unable to believe she’d finally said the words out loud. She hadn’t wanted to be the only girl in school who hadn’t been kissed, but she’d wanted her first kiss to be special.
To be from Jared.
He’d stopped putting the hoodie on with his other arm halfway in, and had looked at her with his eyebrows almost in his hairline. “Kiss you? Get real, Mac. I could’ve had my chance anytime I’d wanted. And I didn’t. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
It’d told her he was cruel. He was uncaring. Had no compassion.
And didn’t have even one iota of interest in her.
She’d wanted to curl into her skin and disappear. Or have the ground open up and swallow her whole. She’d never felt so stupid in her entire seventeen years.
And with Nan Marone, gossip extraordinaire, grinning at her over the hedge, the entire school would know exactly what the hottest guy in town thought of her before she made it back inside to lick her wounds and pretend that everything was all right.
Thankfully, now, it was. Jared might have been her first crush, but she was a long way from that self-conscious, love-sick seventeen-year-old. “Are you sure you’re okay? The soup didn’t burn you?”
“I’m fine.”
That he was.
Mac rolled her eyes when he turned around and shoved his fists onto his hips—a really good look for him, and one she didn’t need to notice. Because if she did, Gran’s hopes would skyrocket.
Hey, wait a minute . . . Did Gran actually think she could hook Mac and Jared up like she was trying to do for Liam, Sean, and Bryan?
Jared leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, his crutches falling against the butcher block. “Are you really here to clean?”
That was the idea. But was it Gran’s?
“I’m certainly not here to cook.” Mac nodded at the pot. “That’s from my grandmother.”
A ridiculous idea because chicken soup was a cold remedy, not a cure-all for broken bones. And even if it was, Jared had been out of the hospital for a while; he was certainly capable of getting around if he’d moved in here to get the place ready to sell for his grandmother.
“That was kind of her. Please thank her for me.”
“Or you can give her a call while I get started. I know she’d love to hear from you.” Ever since Mildred’s request for her to personally handle this assignment, Gran had done nothing but regale Mac with Jared’s wonderfulness, seen fully through the eyes of his grandmother. Gran and Mildred loved talking about their grandkids.
Now Mac was wondering how much of that regaling was because Gran was thrilled Jared was doing okay or because she wanted Mac to be thrilled about Jared. Too bad Gran wasn’t aware of their history. Of the embarrassingly obvious wishes that she’d wished she could take back and pretend had never been. Especially since the object of those wishes had been aware of them all along.
Mac picked up a misshapen blue ceramic mug. Mr. Davison’s fourth grade art project. She had the same one, though hers was a little more even than Jared’s. “How about if I start upstairs and work my way down? Will that interfere with your schedule?”
Jared looked at her as if he didn’t understand a word she was saying.
She set the mug down next to a picture of thirteen-year-old Jared with Mildred at one of Jared’s Little League games. Mac knew exactly how old Jared was in that picture—actually knew it to the day; that’s how infatuated she’d been with him. Her poor deluded, prepubescent self . . .
“Princess, what are you doing here?” He laid the dishtowel on the side of the sink, folded up all nice and neat.
Any gratitude she felt for his neatness was instantly gone with the use of that annoying nickname she’d hated since the first time he’d called her that. “I’m here to clean your grandmother’s house.”
“No. I mean, why are you really here?”
“Really here? I don’t understand the question.”
Jared stared at her as if he were trying to figure her out, but finally shook his head and turned away.
And winced.
He stumbled a little and Mac was at his side, under his arm with hers wrapped around his waist before he could protest.
”I’ve got this, Mac. I have the crutches. You don’t have to try to carry me.”
“I’m not trying; I’m doing. I don’t need you breaking something on my watch.” She grunted with the effort it took to keep him upright. He might not be aware of it, but he was no lightweight. All that muscle put some major poundage on him.
Not that she was paying attention or anything.
“So you’re saying it’s okay if I break something later?”
Wow. His tone put Gran’s skin-slicing ability to shame because Mac figured out right away that he wasn’t her biggest fan. Still harboring resentment that she’d practically been his shadow all those years ago? She’d love to tell him to get over himself—that she had—but Gran and Mildred wouldn’t be happy if they were fighting, so it was time to cut her losses.
Hands up, Mac backed away. “Okay. Fine. I’ll just get started and you go do what you do and I’ll stay out of your way.” Far, far out of his way.
He gripped the countertop and worked the one crutch under his arm. “Fine. You do that.”
“Fine. I will.” She should probably hand him the other crutch that was by the sink, but screw it. If he was so “I got this,” let him get his own damn crutch.
She spun around and strode toward the back steps. She’d find the farthest corner of the house from here, and take out her emotions on the dust—
Except she needed her cleaning supplies that, between the soup and the bells, she hadn’t had enough hands to carry in. Which meant she had to go back downstairs. Past Jared.
Great. Fabulous.
Executing a ninety-degree turn that would stop an army drill sergeant in his tracks, Mac strode toward the front door.
“Leaving so soon?” He didn’t have to sound so happy about it.
She turned around and was steamed to find him smiling. “Look, Jared, I’m here as a favor to your grandmother and mine. If you have issues with that, take it up with them.”
She so would have loved to slam the door behind her, but it was Mildred’s front door, not Jared’s, and she wasn’t about to let him see her sweat.
Because, damn it all, with that smile, he actually could still make her sweat.
Chapter Two
SHE left just as she’d entered: a tight little package of tornado, stirring things up in a way no one else he’d ever met could.
Jared pinched the bridge of his nose. The grandmothers were nothing if not obvious, and while he hated to hurt their feelings, he wasn’t going to suffer through Mac’s brand of torture long enough to get anyone’s hopes up. Camille’s “little game” of playing up to him to get as much as she could out of him had put him off women even before her supposed ex-boyfriend had tried to mow him down in a jealous rage. So if he ever decided to settle down, the decision would be his, not his grandmother’s. And it definitely wouldn’t be with a pain-in-the-ass who’d made his life miserable.
The same one who blew back through his front door, swirling grass clippings and leaves in behind her. Some cleaning lady she was.
“You weren’t raised in a barn, Princess.”
The old nickname rolled off his tongue as easy as if he’d seen her last week, so he didn’t even think about it.
But she obviously did because she stumbled on the first step.
“I beg your pardon?”
He’d rather have her beg for something else.
Oh, hell. What was wrong with him? This was Mac. Terror of the tree fort. Tagalong extraordinaire.
Who’d grown up to be one hell of a gorgeous woman.
When had she grown up? She’d been a cute kid—well, when she hadn’t been covered in dirt and grime and grass stains—but now . . . Gone were the chubby cheeks and freckles, skinned knees, and her brothers’ T-shirts. Now she had legs and curves and cheekbones and lips . . .
Jesus. Mac had had a mouth on her back in the day, but it’d been verbal. Now . . .
“I said that I know for a fact that you weren’t raised in a barn, so would you mind telling me why you left the front door open? Seems to be counterproductive to the cleaning thing you profess to be here about.”
She stormed back into the kitchen, temper in full view.
Damn, she was too pretty for his own good when she was angry. Green eyes flashed like emeralds beneath bangs so black they could be blue, the rest of her hair tied back in a ponytail that stretched halfway down her back. It was the same style that she’d worn when she was ten, though she sure as hell didn’t look ten now.
“Have I ever told you how to play baseball?” She rammed a finger into his chest.
Jared looked at it, then into her eyes, trying to remember why staying away from her was a good idea. “There was that pickup game when I came home from college senior year—”
Her hand fluttered. “You were going to run over Nicky. He was a third your size. You were too stuck on winning to see what you were going to do. I had to say something.”
“So your point is?”
“I don’t tell you how to do your job; don’t tell me how to do mine. I know how to get this place into shape.”
Jared laughed. “Only you, Princess, could follow an anecdote of how you told me how to do my job with the declaration that you don’t tell me how to do it. Are you getting the irony?”
She glared at him. “My name is not Princess; it’s Mac. Use it. And for our grandmothers’ sakes, we have to make this work until this house goes up for sale, so you stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Is that like the not telling me how to do my job thing?” He probably shouldn’t tease her, but that’d never stopped him before. She just made it so easy.
“Fine. Whatever.” She tossed up her hands and spun around, storming off toward the staircase.
What a view it was.
Jared uncrossed his arms and gripped the counter. These next few weeks ought to be anything but boring.
* * *
MAC counted to a hundred—twice—and she still hadn’t calmed down. That man . . . How could she have ever even thought she’d had a crush on him? Arrogant, self-centered . . . Life was one big party to Mr. Prostrate-Yourselves-At-The-Feet-Of-My-Greatness Jared Nolan. Her teenage self had been such a sucker for a pretty face. She ought to be thankful he’d laughed at her—
She swatted a cobweb off the floor lamp by the reading chair in one of Mildred’s spare bedrooms. The face was still pretty, but Jared Nolan could take a flying leap for all she cared. No one mocked her and got the chance to do it again. No one. Certainly not Mr. Caveman, alpha, He-Man Jared, all testosterone and muscle, ordering everyone around and expecting them to like it. Perfect for a professional athlete, but as a general rule? Notsomuch.
Mac swiped at another cobweb in the corner behind the lamp, but it was beyond the reach of her rag. Poor Mildred; the woman should have moved out a long time ago. These old Victorian houses were just too hard to keep up, especially for people her grandmother and Mildred’s ages.
Too hard for her, too, with these ten-foot ceilings. At five-two, even eight-foot ceilings were a challenge. Which meant she had to go back to her old pickup truck to get her ladder. Past Jared and his sneering condescension.
How could someone as sweet as Mildred be related to him?
Tucking the dust rag into her utility belt, Mac ran down the stairs, hoping to avoid Mr. Sarcasm this go-round.
She didn’t make it.
“Had enough?”
She momentarily thought about flipping him the bird, but that would A) be childish, B) give him further cause to ridicule her, and C) not be worth her energy when she had too many other things to do.
So she ignored him and headed out to the truck. She grabbed the ladder and hefted it onto her shoulder, then went back into the house.
Jared met her at the door. “Here, let me help you.”
“Back off, Nolan. I’ve got it.” She hefted it once more just to make a point. How he thought he’d carry a ladder with crutches was beyond her. She hadn’t expected him to have them when she’d handed him the soup and she’d been too busy trying to keep the bells from falling to the floor to notice until he’d pointed it out. She didn’t need to be told twice.
Jared stepped back, hands up. “Hey, I was only trying to be helpful.”
“Not interested.” She stomped past him toward the stairs.
“With that attitude, don’t be surprised if it’s not available when you are.”
“Seriously, Jared? Nothing you do would surprise me. I know exactly what kind of guy you are.” One who reveled in destroying a young girl’s dreams. Callously.
It was a good thing she was holding on to the railing because halfway up the stairs, the ladder jerked her to a stop.
She looked over her shoulder.
Jared held the end. “What the hell does that mean?”
She glared at him. “Let go of the ladder.”
“Not until you tell me what you meant by that crack. I haven’t seen you since what? Your senior year? And if you recall, I was exactly not that kind of guy back then.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. He didn’t have to. He remembered. She really wished he didn’t. She’d like to forget that night.
“And since we haven’t seen each other since then, how could you possibly know a thing about me?”
“How could anyone not? You’re always plastered all over the media. Which actress are you dating this week? What endorsement deal did you just sign? Who tweeted what about you now? How can I not know what you’re up to?”
“You seem mighty interested in a guy you claim to not be interested in.”
She hadn’t said she wasn’t interested in him. She specifically hadn’t said it because she didn’t want him challenging her. She knew Jared; had grown up with the guy. He was all about taking dares and bets, one of the reasons he was the perfect friend for her brother. She’d been glad Liam hadn’t invited him to that poker game because he would’ve been one more person she’d have had to beat, and after losing her adolescent heart to the guy, she wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to.
“Mac?” He gave her that cockeyed smile that she’d thought had been so cute years ago.
Unfortunately, now it was just plain sexy. So she was not about to give him any satisfaction by arguing with him. She was over him. Had been when he’d laughed at her.
“Or maybe you are interested?”
He took a step closer and if Mac hadn’t been so shocked that he’d even think she was still interested, she would have high-tailed it up the stairs.
“That would explain the attitude.”
Mac stared at him. There were no words to describe this guy’s hubris. And she’d thought she’d come up with so many of them while she’d put her broken heart and dreams back together.
“Okay, okay.” Jared turned on that killer smile that put him on the entertainment magazine covers as well as the sports ones. But she was immune.
Even from that dimple in his left cheek.
Really.
“I’m a good sport, Princess. Come back down here and I’ll sign whatever you’ve got. Or I’ll even give you a peck on the cheek if that’s what you want.”
Of all the arrogant, egotistical—
Mac stormed backward down the stairs, the damn ladder preventing her from turning around.
So she dropped it, all clings and clangs as it hit the hardwood. Crap. She hoped she didn’t have to refinish the treads.
But it’d be worth it, since she could now stare Jared in the face at eye level and point a finger at him. “Are you out of your—”
She never got the last word out.
Because he kissed her.
His hands clasped the back of her head, his thumbs tilting her jaw, his touch searing her nerve endings as she tried to process the jolt of electricity that shot through her, sending her on a roller coaster ride of need and want, and had her legs threatening to give out. God, she would have killed for this when she’d been seventeen. Of course, she wouldn’t have been able to handle it when she’d been seventeen.
She wasn’t so sure she could handle it now.
But then the kiss was over. And if her lips weren’t still tingling—and he weren’t grinning like a Cheshire cat—she might have thought she’d imagined it, some holdover from her teenaged dreams.
But then reality rushed back in and it took all her self-restraint not to whack him across the face even if he did deserve it. She was not going to let Jared get under her skin. “What the hell was that?”
Jared chucked her under her chin. “Kiddo, if you don’t know, you have a lot more problems than ugly uniforms to worry about.”
She could only gape as he gimped back into the living room on one crutch—and she didn’t know if it was because of the uniform comment, his arrogance, that damn kiss, or . . .
The fact that she’d enjoyed it.
Chapter Three
YOU sure you don’t need any help up there?” Jared’s voice echoed—for the third time in the last half hour—up the hardwood steps, bounced off the bare walls, and slithered under Mac’s skin to grate on her nerves.
Help? She didn’t need his help. She didn’t want his help. She wanted nothing to do with him. He’d loved tormenting her when they’d been younger; time obviously hadn’t changed anything. Kissing her, of all things—
“Mac? I wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”
Sure he wouldn’t. And he’d kissed her because he wanted her.
Not.
She exhaled. “Sure thing, Gimpy. Just hobble your way up here and climb this ladder to do the crown molding.” There. He wanted to help? He probably thought she wouldn’t take him up on it. Then he could go around saying he’d offered but she’d turned him down. Fine. The man wanted to prove he was all that? Let him.
Mac snorted. Yeah, right. Jared work? Jared had had everything handed to him on a silver platter his entire life. She never remembered him mowing the lawn or raking leaves. Jared had been all about baseball his entire life while she’d had chore after chore after chore.
She winced. That wasn’t fair to Gran. Gran had done her best, but the four of them had been a handful. Chores had been necessary, not something to keep the kids occupied while Gran went off and ate bon-bons.
Thunk.
That was not a crutch on the staircase.
Thunk.
Oh hell, it was.
Mac scrambled down the ladder, careful to keep all the soapy water in the bucket, but almost took out the swing-arm porcelain lamp that’d been in Mildred’s living room years ago until the boys had toppled it.
She rubbed her hairline. Four stitches had prevented it from crashing to the floor.
She almost wasn’t as lucky this time, though at least she didn’t need stitches. Still, she did take a healthy thwack to the shin. “Son of a—”
“I can hear you.”
“Good. Then listen up, Jared.” She set the bucket down and wiped up the water that’d dribbled over the edge. “Stay down there. I’m perfectly fine without you and I really don’t feel like explaining to the cops how you broke your neck when you fell down the stairs.”
It was one thing to challenge him; it was another entirely to spend time in the same room with him. Especially since that kiss.
“I can manage stairs when I need to, Princess.”
She ignored the nickname. He’d enjoyed pissing her off with it when they were younger; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction now. “Well right now you don’t need to. I’ve got everything covered. Why don’t you make yourself comfy in the den and turn on a game or something?”
Silence. She didn’t even hear the slide of a crutch.
“Jared?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
She heard the thunks again, but this time they were headed toward the foyer.
She leaned against the doorframe and put a hand over her thudding heart. She was going to have to set the record straight with him. She wasn’t that same girl who still thought his blond hair and green eyes were to die for. To go and kiss her like that . . . It was just like him to toss the crush in her face.
Well she definitely wasn’t crushing on him now and he could take his stupid kiss and . . . and . . . well, go kiss someone else.
She grabbed the bucket and headed into the bathroom to change out the water. Poor Mildred hadn’t cleaned the molding in years. It was going to take Mac a long time to get through this place if every room was as neglected as this one, and she didn’t want to have to be here one minute longer than necessary. Not with him in the house.
She filled the bucket with clean hot water, then headed back in, glancing over the banister to the foyer below.
He’d taken her advice. She’d be surprised except that Jared was a sports nut. And not just any sports nut; he’d been so into the game that his parents had moved a personal trainer into his house. It’d been a big topic of conversation at her house because her brothers loved sports. And if they did, she did. Those stitches on her forehead were nothing compared to the broken bones and sprained ankles she’d had over the years. Gran had put up with a lot. The poor woman had probably thought she’d been getting a cute little girly-girl in ruffles and lace, but Mac had been all about knee pads and baseball bats.
She laughed at herself now. So young and trying so hard to keep up.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror with her Manley Maids shirt on. Her company. Her business. Like Sean and Liam’s ventures and Bryan’s movie career, this was her success or her failure.
She shrugged. Failure was not an option. She was going to be as good as her brothers.
Even if it meant putting up with Jared Nolan.
* * *
JARED hobbled into the den, Mac’s little directive ringing in his ears: “Go relax and watch a game.” Really? A game? Did she not get that he ought to be playing in the damn game? Or was that little dig to get back at him for kissing her?
Why had he kissed her? That should be the last thing he’d wanted to do to Mac Manley. God knew, he’d had the chance when they were younger. Hell, she’d even asked him straight out to do it.
He shook his head, remembering that night. He wasn’t surprised that she’d wanted him to, but her request had shocked the hell out of him.
She was Liam’s little sister. There was a guy code, and baby sisters being off limits was, like, rule number one. She’d never gotten it, always following him around with puppy dog eyes, and butting in on his fun whether it was with her brothers or his dates. He’d finally had to nip it in the bud. So to speak.
He grimaced, remembering the look on her face when he’d said the first thing that’d popped into his head. But he’d been worrying about draft picks and signing bonuses; dating a high school senior had never been on his radar—even if she hadn’t been Liam’s sister.
He probably could’ve been nicer about turning her down, but it’d put an end to the crush, which was better for everyone.
Yet now he’d gone and kissed her. Must be the pain meds.
Except he hadn’t taken any today.
Or maybe he’d just wanted to shut her up. Which it had.
Or maybe, now that you’re both adults you want to see if there could be anything between you—
He shut that up real quick. She was still Lee’s baby sister and that put her on the Do Not Touch List. For life.
Then explain the kiss.
He couldn’t. And now that he knew what kissing her was like, he knew enough to know that that little peck had been a mistake.
Mac tasted good. Felt even better, and the kiss . . .
He was Out. Of. His. Mind. If it wasn’t the meds, it had to be the pain itself making him think this shit. He’d had no business kissing Mac. No business even thinking about her like that. About any woman for that matter. Not now. Not for a long time.
He banged his shin on the damn footstool. Grandma had these dainty things all over the house, and on a good day, he wasn’t dainty. Give him crutches and he was a walking disaster. Or rather, a not walking disaster. He couldn’t wait for the doctor to take him off these damn things.
Jared dropped onto the sofa, grabbing the stupid crutches before they clattered onto the delicate little side tables filled with glass and porcelain figurines, the quintessential little-old-lady’s parlor. A den it was not. A den would have padded leather chairs, a big comfy sofa, a flat screen, and an ottoman the size of a Fiat for a coffee table, like the one he had at his place.
Where Camille still lived.
That pissed him off to no end. Camille had strung him along while still playing house with her previous boyfriend Burke on the sly, using his bank account to rack up stuff for the two of them. Then Jared had been stupid enough to think he’d loved her and had her move in.
That’s when the fun began.
The boyfriend got jealous and staged an “accidental bump” in a parking lot, landing Jared in the hospital and Burke in his bed. Sadly, with eviction laws being worse than divorce laws, Jared was the one who’d gotten screwed; the criminal investigation had gone belly up when Burke’s alcohol count had come in within the legal range and he’d claimed it was an accident.
Accident, Jared’s ass. The guy hadn’t put the truck in drive instead of reverse by accident. Jared had seen his eyes and the determination on Burke’s face. But the media circus of a civil trial—even if he won—wouldn’t get him back into shape any faster.
So here he was, stuck with knick-knacks, doilies, and Mac Manley until the eviction went through.
He looked at the ceiling. She was up there, in his grandmother’s house, going through things . . . The grandmothers had probably planned this. Too bad they didn’t know Mac was over her crush.
He’d hoped she would’ve been after that time he’d told her to wait for him in the tree fort years ago, and she had. For six hours.
He’d been home by then for batting practice in the cage his father had had built in the backyard, but he’d had a clear view across the field to see her grandmother standing at the bottom of the ladder while Mac had climbed down.
Not his best day. He’d known that even then. She’d been a kid, after all. But so had he and he’d been desperate to hang with the guys, and just as desperate that she wouldn’t. So he’d put her where he’d known she’d stay and he wouldn’t have to worry about her showing up to wreck their afternoon.
She hadn’t looked at him for two weeks afterward, and the look she’d given him when he’d ended their kiss now reminded him of the one she’d given him back then.
And damn if he didn’t get the same hollow feeling of guilt as before.
Not to mention a few others . . .
Sighing, he grabbed the remote as he remembered sliding his fingers behind her neck and feeling the heat there. Of bypassing her cheek when her mouth was right there. And the soft crush of her lips, the scent that said she wasn’t wearing perfume because she didn’t need any. The warmth of her breath as he stole it, and the sweet movements of her lips against his until he’d come to his senses.
He changed the channel. The kiss had been a boneheaded move and one better served from the teenager he used to be. But now he was thirty-five years old, for chrissake. He ought to be able to handle suddenly being attracted to her.
He flipped to the History channel. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so sudden. She had driven him nuts since the first time he’d seen her, riding the motocross trail he, Liam, Bryan, and Sean had built in the field separating their neighborhoods that first summer after he’d moved in. For a few seconds he’d been stunned to see a girl—a little girl at that—with her attention so fiercely focused on each dirt mound as she rode over it, until he realized that she was shearing off parts of them, undoing all their hard work.
He’d called out to her, and she’d missed the turn, taking a header over the highest mound, the one that had the sweetest air. He’d been pissed off that she’d ruined it, but he’d had enough compassion to make sure she was okay before he’d started yelling at her.
Only . . . she’d yelled back. Something about breaking her concentration, which he wouldn’t have done if he knew anything about riding the course, and he better leave her alone or she was going to tell her brothers and that would not end well for him.
He’d been surprised at her attitude, and, thinking back on it now twenty-some years later, he’d had to admire her spirit, too. Her grit and determination to both ride the motocross and tell him off.
But he’d seen that same grit and determination in getting her way one too many times with her brothers. Like the time Liam had had to bring her along on the Halloween parade because she’d insisted on showing off her costume, which had put an end to their house-egging plans.
Probably had kept him from getting into trouble, but still. She’d ruined their fun.
Then there were the too-numerous-to-mention times she’d tagged along to the swimming hole and the pickup ice hockey matches and T-ball games, and hell, everywhere he’d turned, Mac had been there. Put a real crimp in his idea of fun, and he hadn’t believed that Liam and the guys had put up with it.
Liam had just shrugged and said she was his sister, she was family.
Jared stretched his arms across the back of Grandma’s scalloped-edged sofa with its floral fabric and ruffle-edged pillows, feeling like a behemoth in a froufrou dollhouse. Family as Liam described it was a foreign concept to him. His parents’ sole reason for having a son, it seemed, had been to get him into the major leagues. Well, at least his father’s had been. He’d even gone to the extreme of building a batting cage in the backyard and moving Bill, one of the biggest trainers in the industry, into their home to work with him. That was when his life had become a series of training sessions with miniscule breaks for school and friends tossed in.
He’d cherished those times with his friends.
Something crashed overhead. Jared sighed and pushed himself to the edge of the well-indented sofa. And just like those times, Mac would somehow manage to get involved, usually when they’d had to rescue her from one disaster or another.
Seemed that damsel-in-distress issue hadn’t gone away.
Chapter Four
JARED was about to head toward the stairs when someone rang the doorbell.
He glanced up the stairs. “Mac?”
“I’m fine.”
She’d say that even if she weren’t, but she was a grown woman now; he was no longer responsible for her safety.
He opened the door.
“Hey, Mr. Nolan.” A tow-headed kid of about seven stood on the front porch.
With a baseball and glove.
“Uh, hi.”
“My dad said you’re staying here and I was wondering if you could help me work on my throw. I want to play in the majors like you when I grow up, so I gotta practice. My dad said you had a batting cage and trainer when you were my age. I bet that was cool.”
“Yeah, it was.” Sort of. There were times when Jared had felt less of a prodigy and more of an indentured servant. As if his parents had spent all the money as an investment and he’d better give them a good return. Which was why it was so ironic that they rarely came to see him play. Dad had his bragging rights and Mom had the cachet of being a celebrity’s mother; apparently that was enough for them.
“So will ya? Help me, I mean? I got a good arm, but Dad says it needs work. He was helping me ’til he had to go back for his last tour.”
Oh hell. Autographs were one thing, throwing a couple of pitches something else entirely. He wasn’t ready for this. “His last tour?”
The kid nodded solemnly. “Afghanistan. It’s where he lost his legs in a roadside bomb. That’s why he can’t throw with me a lot. It’s hard for him to catch from the chair.”
The wheelchair. Jared had seen way too many people in those during his stint in rehab, where he’d been angry that he might never play again, something that was now put in perspective by what this boy’s father had lost.
No way could he turn this kid down. “So what’s your name?”
“It’s Chase. Chase Williams. I’m the starting pitcher for my rec team. I beat out Dylan, but if I don’t practice, he might get it next year, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” Mitch Weymouth was on his mound now and it sucked big time to see someone else where he was supposed to be. “Let me grab my glove and I’ll meet you out there.”
He pointed to the clearing between the front porch and the street trees, trying to calculate how long it was going to take him to get up to his room, dig through the duffel bags Camille had thrown together while he’d been in the hospital, and hopefully find the glove she’d said she packed. He wouldn’t put it past her to have hocked the thing online.
The kid jerked his head toward the step where Jared saw another glove. “My dad sent his over. He wasn’t sure you’d have yours.”
Because no one was expecting him to play again. There’d been so much speculation in the media that he kept the TV off for just that reason.
“I do have it, but I’ll use his if you want.” It’d save him a trip up the stairs, and Chase’s dad would talk it up that the Jared Nolan had worn his glove. Besides being the least he could do for the guy who’d given so much for their country, let the media get a hold of that info. Show them he wasn’t out for the count. “Okay, Chase, let’s go.”
“Cool!”
It actually was kind of cool for Jared. He still had his pitching form, though he wasn’t about to throw a ninety-miler at a kid, but the motion felt right—even if he had to prop himself up with a crutch. He’d always planted with his left leg and wound with the right, so the injury hadn’t affected that. The actual follow-through, however, was going to take some work. The physical therapist at the hospital had considered walking more important than keeping his pitching form . . . Jared hadn’t agreed.
“Take a couple of steps back now, Chase,” Jared said after they’d warmed up. He threw the ball into his webbing while the kid hopped into place a few feet back and windmilled his arms.
“My dad says I arc high when I go longer because I’m thinking about the distance.”
“So we have to get you not to think about it and the only way to do that is by practice.” Easier said than done as Jared knew from personal experience. Learning to walk again had taught him the brutal lesson of focusing more than his old trainer ever had.
“But what if I can’t throw the ball all the way to you? Won’t it be hard for you to get it?” Chase pointed to the crutch. “My dad has trouble sometimes.”
“You let me worry about getting the ball. Your job is to pitch it.”
“Okay, but Dad said to make sure I don’t tire you out or injure you any more than you already are.”
What was he, an invalid? He could catch a damn ball for chrissake.
Wisely, Jared kept his mouth shut. The way the kid said “Dad” told Jared all he needed to know. The guy was Chase’s hero. With good reason. Giving up two legs for your country was much more heroic than hitting a ball into the grandstand. He was Jared’s hero, too. Even more so because he was his son’s hero.
Jared choked on the lump in his throat. He’d always wanted his father to be his hero . . . but he hadn’t been. Not when he let Mom control everything, practically worshipping the ground she walked on. His father’s existence seemed to be merely to give his mother whatever she wanted and taking her wherever she wanted to go. To Jared that wasn’t a marriage, it was a high school crush on the head cheerleader gone bad. That was never going to be him.
“So how far do you think this is?” Chase asked. “Fifteen feet?”
“Nah, more like twenty-five. Let’s see what you got from there.”
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Most helpful customer reviews
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful. Ahhhh You. Must. Read. This. Series! By Anna's herding cats Ahhhh You. Must. Read. This. Series! It's so damn fun and totally left me grinning and happy as I close that last page. And What a Woman...eeps! *rubs hands together* so so good and a blast as childhood not-quite-friends are pushed together by their grandmoms who are feeling all matchmakery. Oh and there might be kittens in the mix too. Hot guy...kittens...swoons!So the quick of it is that Mac crushed hard on Jared when they were growing up. He's her brother's best friend and had no time for Mac when they were kids and really hurt her young heart. And all these years later she's been "hired" to help get his grandmom's house ready to sell and in doing her job...she's gonna have to deal with Jared--who is living there and recuperating after a bad car accident--and with abandoned kittens and, you know, that damn pesky childhood crush...seeing she still wants him. Hell of a lot for a girl to juggle. lolSo. Mac and Jared. Fabulous! (totally done in a sing-songy voice) Mac was great. She's wily and resourceful, not afraid of hard work, doesn't back down and was a little feisty. And just what Jared--a famous baseball player who always has women fawning over him--needed. To her he's just the boy she grew up with and that despite his teenage assery is a pretty great guy that's sexy and lonely and totally cute in how much he adores his grandmom and frets over the kittens they find while working on the house.These two were so entertaining as they tried to deal with each other and with their own personal insecurities. They're both a little prickly around each other and it could be pretty hilarious (and awkward sometimes too). And when things finally fall into place and he realizes what a putz he'd been was so very nice. I loved that they'd known each other forever but still didn't really know each other totally. That he tried to make up for everything he'd done and really put in the effort of woo-ing and mending and becoming her friend. There wasn't a ton of smexing but the heat level worked for them and with those few heated moments...Best. Condom. Scenes. Ever! Seriously. I adore Fennell and she totally makes me happy with her condom scenes. They're fun, sexy, unique. And just what they should be. Yall remember my condom post? Yeah. Totally Fennell. Love and adore!I did have one little quibble. And I'll admit right at the start it seems really nitpicky. But the kittens. They were so stinking cute as they terrorized and put these two through the new herd parent wringer but one is a calico and it's marked as a male in the book. But male calicos...super rare. Like 0.03% rare. Something that, when taken to the vet, would be a huge thing to whoa! over. I know, I know. I told yall it was nitpicky but being in the animal field for my job things like this stick out and nag at me and I kept waiting for something to be said about it but nothing ever was. Plus not a calico on the cover.But really that was my only complaint for the whole dang book. It was a great time and wonderful end to this story arc of Mac and her siblings finding their mates. What a Woman was a delightfully blissful escape and impossible not to love. Fennell has definitely landed on my Must Reads list! And now I'm crazy excited to see what'll happen next with the series as the grandmoms continue their schemings.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. What a Woman by Judi Fennell By Deb@Debbie's Book Bag Judi Fennell brings readers the fourth book in her Manley Maids series, What a Woman. This has been a very enjoyable series with a great premise, a meddling grandmother and four siblings not exactly looking for love. Fennell does a great job of giving readers a light hearted romance that will keep them laughing until the very end. Mac Manley, the only girl in the bunch finally gets her story in What a Woman and readers will really enjoy this high school crush turned romance. A great addition to the series!There is so much to love about this series. First of all the premise was great. A sister and her grandmother forcing her brothers to not only clean houses as part of a bet, but to also find true love. I love it when matchmaking involves the extended family. This was a great idea and I think it panned out very well for Fennell. I'm glad that not only the boys get their stories and happy endings but Mac as well. She has been an enjoyable secondary character throughout the series and really shines here.Mac is feisty and full of sass. I've liked that about her character from the beginning. She not only catches her brother in bet, but she seems to know exactly where to send them to get the most for her money. It was nice to see more of her backstory here and learn about her school girl crush on Jared. I liked their banter and the romantic tension in the air when they were together here. She doesn't back down from him and he isn't about to let her get the upper hand in the relationship... so much fun.Jared is a handsome former baseball player and he's lonely. He has spent a lot of time with women who didn't appreciate him or wanted to run all over him and when Mac shows up to get his grandmother's house ready for sale, the fight is on. It was fun watching them together and in spite of treating Mac badly when he was younger he comes off as a genuinely nice guy, especially with the puppies, yes I said, puppies.Bottom Line:A very enjoyable addition to this series. What a Woman met all my expectations for a story about Mac, the feisty sister. She was a great character and deserved her own happy ending. I liked Jared a lot too but the best part was the easy banter and enjoyment they got from each other. There was a little bit of steam and some unusual antics with a condom that will have readers in giggle fits. A great addition to the series!
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. I thoroughly enjoyed reading What a Woman By DiDi GPBR What a Woman is a fun romance that now completes the wonderful Manley Maid series with the last Manley. Mary-Alice Catherine Manley, aka Mac, runs a cleaning business and pulled off a coup when she got her 3 older brothers to work for her for a month. Each of these stories run simultaneously and it has been very enjoyable to see each of them unfold as you read the present one. The best was saved for last when it comes to Mac getting her happily ever after with her childhood crush.Jared Nolan is an only child who has been Liam Manley’s best friend since they were young children. He knew of Mac’s crush on him and wasn’t very nice about rejecting her. Now she was here to clean his grandmother’s home in order to put in on the market and has to deal with him as he undergoes rehab from his bad car accident. It didn’t take long before they were coerced into work together for them to see each other as adults and not the kids they once were. After they bonded over 4 stray kittens, Jared got to thinking that it was time to put the past behind him and work on his future with the woman whom he’s come to know. Jared had a lot on his plate in this story from confronting his parents, dealing with his ex-girlfriend, and getting back in shape in order to return to his baseball career.Mac was a woman who knew what she wanted to make it on her own and she did what she had to do in order to win. Winning the poker game with her brothers was the best hook that definitely grabbed my attention, and had me invested to see how it would all pay off for each of the Manley siblings. She couldn’t help still being attracted to Jared, but she could stand up to him and call him on his stuff. I like it when her character isn’t persuaded by fame or money. Once Jared apologizes for his past behavior and she accepts his apology, they can now move forward and see if they can be a couple. How appropriate that it is all decided over another game of poker.I thoroughly enjoyed reading What a Woman by Judi Fennell and am sorry to see this series end. She created unique romance stories, which made me, laugh and smile through reading all 4 of them. The romance that she creates for Mac was just the right one for a simple girl with simple tastes and likes. With the addition of the four kittens, and how similar were they to the Manley children, was a nice touch. Although there was an epilogue I just wish it had to do with the four siblings and a conversation among them instead of the one at the end of this story. Overall, I have to say it was worth knowing that they each found love in a most unexpected way.Review copy provided for an honest review.
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