Piper Scott, the dating doc, is located in Austin and
employed by Online Media Group (OMG) where she created the
Piper Plan after perfecting the dating grid.
Professionally
finding the "perfect man" for her clients she uses the 12
steps of the plan, namely, "how to land your perfect man".
Piper's friend and boss, Dancie, heads up the women's
division of the family business and her brother heads the
men's division, keeping them competing for a partnership.
Piper has never found her own perfect man and devotes her
time studying her clients in selecting the perfect
compatibility for others.
Tom Banning, also writer for OMG but for men, is
recovering from a gunshot and knife wound from his last
expedition in Mexico. Tom is a loner and drop dead
gorgeous. Women are drawn to him like flies to honey.
With
women falling at his feet, Piper is determined not to fall
under his spell as she is charged with finding him a
compatible partner in his investigations. Totally at odds
with each and avoiding the inevitable sexual magnetism,
Piper uncovers the "true" Tom, unknown by anyone else.
Refusing all candidates for the job, Tom has no intention
of
partnering with someone when he returns to Mexico to finish
his assignment. What he doesn't count on is falling under
the spell of the feisty Piper who worms her way under his
skin to
reveal his true persona. An unplanned scorching kiss
renders them both senseless and ends up in the hottest sex
either has ever had. Tom slips away alone en route to
Mexico, Piper is notified and quickly uncovers critical
information concerning his target and Tom's impending
surefire death. But can Piper find him in time and will he
accept the truth of her evidence?
Strap yourself in for a very clever and exciting ride
throughout TALL DARK & RESTLESS. Loves comes when least
expected and
least wanted. The gorgeous Tom finally confronts the one
woman he feels is not subjected to his sex appeal but truly
reveals his inner self. The story line is exciting and
full
of twists and turns when least expected. TALL DARK &
RESTLESS is a well
written and completely spellbinding tale.
Foreign journalist Mark Banning needs a partner—now. After
refusing to work with a female journalist and with a
reputation for being reckless, Mark is running out of
options. That's where compatibility expert Penelope "Piper"
Scott comes in.
Mark both infuriates and frustrates Piper. He claims her
"theories" are ridiculous, and every potential candidate she
finds is scoffed at and rejected.
It's worse for him, since Mark now finds himself hearing
Piper's voice in his head. And the thought of his lips—and
his touch—on her skin is tempting enough to push Mark into
making his most reckless move yet!
Excerpt
LAND YOUR PERFECT MAN WITH THE PIPER PLAN!
You thought your date went great, but then he didn't call?
You have a lot of first dates but not so many second dates?
Do you keep falling for the wrong man?
Do the wrong men keep falling for you?
If so, THE PIPER PLAN is for you!
After interviewing over a thousand men, popular "Dating to
Mating" columnist Piper Scott, The Dating Doc, has
identified specific male dating personality types. Not
only that––she's willing to share! Organized
into a convenient personality grid, THE PIPER PLAN (tm)
describes each type, his dating behavior, tells you what
kind of woman appeals to him, and strategies that woman can
use to attract and keep him. Know the man's type, and
you'll know how to win him.
Ready to land your perfect man? Then download your
personal copy of THE PIPER PLAN today!
***
Step one: Find a perfect man.
Ordinarily, Piper Scott wouldn't be distracted by a pair of
blue eyes, no matter how attractively they crinkled, or a
strong, manly jaw, no matter how chiseled—except
these eyes were squinting and the jaw was definitely
gritting. In pain.
Moments earlier, Piper had arrived at the entrance to the
offices of OMG, the Online Media Group, at the same time as
the owner of the crinkly blue eyes and the chiseled jaw.
"I'll get it," he'd said, and leaned around her to open the
front door.
"Thanks," she'd replied, because her cell had just buzzed
and at that moment she was grabbing at her purse to check
the caller ID. Only then her purse had slipped down her arm
and tangled with the strap of the tote bag she carried on
the same arm. When she'd heaved them back in place, a
jacket in the dry cleaner's bag slung over her other
shoulder had slithered off its hanger and fallen to the
leaf–strewn concrete in front of the door. As she
bent to retrieve the jacket, the tote bag fell forward and
made contact with the leg of the owner of the blue eyes and
chiseled jaw.
Slight contact. A little bump. And now he was acting as
though she'd bashed him with a load of books or something.
The big baby.
She'd automatically apologized, one of those quick,
social "I'm sorrys" that didn't seem adequate in the face
of that grimace.
"I'm really sorry," she added now.
"It's okay." He gave her a game smile.
Piper eyed him, trying to read his expression. Was she
missing something? She glanced down and discovered his hand
clenched around his thigh.
White knuckles, expensive jeans. The jeans had the careful
whiskering that always reminded Piper of those lines in the
comic books meant to emphasize something. "Look! Wow!" In
this case, it was the crotch area, which, she noted, did
not need emphasizing.
When Piper became aware that she was standing on a public
street in downtown Austin eyeing a stranger's
crotch—truly not like her—she jerked her eyes
upward. "I didn't realize I hit you that hard. There's not
that much in my bag."
"You didn't." He straightened. Somewhat. "Something hard
got me in the right—or wrong—place."
"I don't have— Oh. It must have been the flatiron."
He looked questioningly.
"A hair styling thingie."
"Ah." He raised his hand and went for the door again. Piper
heard the tiny, hard breath he sucked between his teeth.
Oh, please. He was being so transparent. She knew what was
coming next. He'd hit on her. So to speak. Anyway, they'd
walk in together and she'd apologize again because he was
so obviously suffering and then he'd say, "If you really
want to make it up to me, have coffee with me." Or "Let me
buy you a drink." Or even "You can buy me a drink."
Probably not "You can kiss it and make it better," a line
mostly used by guys who weren't as good–looking. And
only the ones who hadn't been pepper sprayed after saying
it.
As they walked across the foyer's hardwood floor, Piper
waited for him to make his move. He'd better hurry. The
foyer wasn't that big. It didn't need to be, since OMG only
published digitally and the writers were scattered all over
the country. Even Piper didn't come here all that often and
she lived nearby.
The headquarters of the online conglomerate was in a small,
former residential dorm near the University of Texas campus
and still had the living/dining/kitchen layout, which OMG
used as the downstairs conference space. The offices were
upstairs.
The area downstairs was empty now, but in less than half an
hour, the OMG quarterly meeting would begin and Piper would
be sitting at the table providing support to Dancie, her
former college roommate and technically her OMG boss, but
first and foremost her friend. Her best friend. The friend
who'd been there when Piper needed a friend. Now Dancie
needed her, even if she wouldn't admit it.
But in the meantime, Mr. Blue Eyes was limping. Limping.
Fine. Might as well get this over with and let him down
easy.
Pasting on a semi–smile, Piper looked toward the man
at her side. Only he wasn't at her side. He, without a
backward look, flirtatious or otherwise, was making his way
to the elevator.
She hesitated, one foot on the steps, and watched as he
reached for the call button. Then he waited, not even
glancing over to see if she was still there.
So...he wasn't going to hit on her? Well, that was
lowering. Or, worse, was he avoiding her because he thought
she was going to hit—metaphorically this
time—on him?
Piper honestly didn't know and that was rare, because Piper
knew men. Everything about them. It was her business to
know. As Piper Scott, The Dating Doc, she'd counseled
countless men and women—mostly women—on dating
strategies. She was known for her exit interviews, a frank
discussion of why the date hadn't worked. After
interviewing a thousand men—actually, a thousand and
thirteen men—she'd written The Piper Plan: How to
Land Your Perfect Man.
Unfortunately, after interviewing those thousand men, Piper
felt that there was nothing more to learn about the human
male. Men had ceased to surprise her. They bored her.
Take the blue–eyed limper: he was the kind of
handsome that appealed to women of all ages. He had
arresting good looks—a shock of black hair and heavy
black brows that contrasted with brilliantly blue eyes. She
assumed he had a great smile, although she hadn't seen much
of it. He even looked vaguely familiar, but most men did
these days.
The point was, she knew his type, grid square alphaalpha,
the confident, popular, leader type, normally not a type
attracted to her.
And clearly not this time, either. She was surprised to
feel a flicker of disappointment.
Piper noticed that he'd pressed the button for the
basement, which meant he was going to the man cave where
the Guys of Texas webzine, helmed by her friend Dancie's
twin, Travis, had its office. He was probably a friend of
Travis's. They were the same confident, good–looking,
women–magnet type of male.
But using the elevator for one flight down? Piper climbed
the stairs wondering if the limp had been genuine after
all, since it clearly wasn't a ploy to gain her sympathy
prior to asking her out. Or maybe he was avoiding her. Or
married. Or...whatever.
What really concerned her was that she didn't know. What a
horrible time to lose her touch at sizing up men. She
needed to be confident going into today's meeting.
Because this, this was the meeting where Dancie should be
named an equal partner with her father and
brother—something that should have been done in the
beginning.
And Piper was going to do everything in her power to make
it happen.
Then, she and Dancie would be even.
***
Mark could hear the cables and machinery as the tiny
elevator moved in the shaft.
Hurry. His leg throbbed and he was aware that he hadn't
heard the woman's footsteps continue up the stairs.
Yeah, he'd overdone the physical therapy yesterday, but
he'd wanted to prove to Travis—and himself—that
he was a hundred percent. The last thing he needed was to
draw attention to his leg.
She was watching him so he knew he hadn't covered his pain
as effectively as he'd hoped. The fact that she'd arrived
in time for the meeting meant she probably wrote for OMG,
too. Probably for Travis's sister, since she was headed
upstairs.
Hurry, he urged the elevator again as cogs chugged and drew
the box from whatever floor it had been parked at. He
shifted all his weight off his leg, preparing to lurch
inside as soon as the doors opened.
Go upstairs, he mentally urged the woman. She'd probably
recognized him and that was why she was hesitating. Maybe
she was a fan. Or, please no, a student in one of his
journalism classes, the one in the lecture hall. Maybe she
was about to approach him and try to carry on a
conversation. Sweat beaded his upper lip and he knew from
hours staring at himself in the mirrored walls of the
Austin Physical Therapy Center that his face was a
grayish–green. That gray–green color told him
he was pushing himself to his limit and beyond. If he
wasn't gray with pain, he wasn't working hard enough.
But a different set of muscles were screaming this time.
Had she dislocated his knee or something when she'd hit him?
Something. Definitely something. The elevator arrived.
Mark forced himself to step forward as though nothing was
wrong and propelled his body to the back of the tiny
compartment where he grabbed on to the bar. His leg
quivered and nearly buckled.
He suspected he was going to have to take a pain pill,
something he'd wanted to avoid. He needed a clear head for
this meeting. Not only did he have to demonstrate that he
was ready to return to the field, he had to convince
Travis's father to send him back to the Texas–Mexico
border. Maybe not as his first assignment after his
involuntary layoff, but soon. He had a story to finish and
a smuggler to expose. And a promise to be kept.
The elevator doors shuddered closed and Mark gingerly
explored the area above his knee, his fingers finding the
depression where he'd lost a hunk of muscle and flesh. No,
he wouldn't be playing a game of three–man basketball
anytime soon.
On the slow descent, the pain receded, at least enough for
Mark to limp into the Guys of Texas man cave.
There were usually a half dozen or so guys hanging around,
thinkin' about guy stuff. Doin' guy stuff. Writing about
guy stuff. Thinkin' about women from a guy's point of view:
how to get them and what to do with them when you get them,
how long and how many times you could do it, and any tips
and tricks to share with fellow guys so you could keep
doing it.
It would drive him nuts if he had to do that every day, but
it was obviously popular. Travis Pollard had turned a
simple online campus blog into a megamoneymaker for OMG.
The Guys of Texas published Mark's
behind–the–scenes commentary as he researched
in–depth foreign exposes for the news division of
OMG. His column was all about the glamour. The adventure.
The danger. The excitement. The women.
Yes, Mark was Fantasy Guy. He exhaled. At least it paid the
bills.
Mark hung his jacket on a set of longhorns and headed
toward the coffee bar.
"Mark!" Travis jogged toward him and Mark realized he'd
thought Mark might not show today. "Marko!"
Travis knuckle–bumped him. "My man! The man.
Uberguy—"
"Travis."
Travis stuck his hand into his pocket. "Glad you're back."
"I got that."
"Really glad you're back."
"I got that, too."
"Yeah." Travis rubbed at the top of his nose. "Missed your
columns these last couple of quarters. Teaching college
courses and recovering from a gunshot wound isn't as
popular as actually getting shot."
Mark studied the fancy machine at the coffee bar. It was
new. "I was also stabbed—maybe you shouldn't have
edited that out."
"Hey, man. It was in the same leg. Nobody would have
believed it." Travis was completely serious. "But you're
back now," Travis said as Mark pushed a combination of
buttons that yielded a small cup of very black coffee with
a thin layer of tan foam. "My sister has been kicking my
behind in revenue."
"What's she got?"
Travis waved him to a chair. "A dating columnist. You know
how women are. So right now, she's got a lot of women
running up the page stats. But when you're on your game, we
get the guys and the gals." Travis mock–punched Mark
in the jaw. "Good thing they cut your leg and not your
face."
Mark gazed at him, his expression carefully blank.
"'Cause that face is your meal ticket," Travis continued.
"Because talent counts for nothing, right?" Mark asked.
"No, because there are a lot of talented people and there
are a lot of good–looking people. There are even a
lot of talented, good–looking people. But there
aren't a lot of lookers who are willing to work it. They
don't have to. You work it. I don't know what drives you
and I don't want to know. I'm just glad you do what you do."
Travis was no slouch in the work/talent/looks department,
either. However, he hadn't made eye contact very often
during their conversation—which had been more Travis
rambling than a conversation. And now, he'd started
bouncing a tennis ball against the wall, repeatedly hitting
the same smudged spot. Mark had interviewed enough people
to know Travis was holding something back, and that
something was going to affect Mark and his return to work.
"What aren't you telling me?" he asked.
Travis stopped bouncing the ball and gazed directly at
Mark. "Dancie's Women's Guide numbers are better than the
Guys of Texas, even with you. Maybe not you being rescued
after being captured, but better than normal you."
All Mark wanted was to get back to normal. Normal was
following his subject for days on end, immersing himself in
whatever culture he found himself. Normal was not facing
hundreds of starry–eyed journalism students three
times a week. Normal was not evaluating every conversation
and every word of every conversation with dozens of
beautiful young women lest he inadvertently encourage
romantic fantasies. Okay, maybe there was a little normal
there. "So your sister has found something as popular as my
column. How exactly am I supposed to take that?"
"You aren't. That's why I wasn't telling you, but you
asked."
"It's what I do."
"And I hope you'll be doing it for a long time."
"So do I." There was still an undercurrent of tension in
the conversation.
Travis cleared his throat and shifted. "And you shouldn't
worry about today's quarterly."
Mark hadn't. Until now.
"I just thought it wouldn't hurt to have you here in person
to remind my dad of how much of an asset you are."
"So it isn't usual for a contributor to come to these
meetings."
"Well, I mean, writers do sometimes." Travis shifted again
and finally got to his feet and walked to the ordinary drip
coffeemaker next to the fancy machine. "Like if they're new
and going to be major or there's going to be changes.
Coffee?" He held up the pot after mumbling the last.
Mark shook his head. "Changes that concern me?"
Travis poured two mugs anyway. "I don't know, and that's
the truth. It depends on Dancie. She's kinda in the
driver's seat for the first time and, to be honest, I don't
know what kind of a driver she is."
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