Randa Whitmore, daughter of the rich and influential
Whitmore family of Chicago, is expected to jump at every
assignment given to her by her father. Owning a huge
conglomerate of Whitmore Hotels through their company, the W
Group, throughout the country, Randa is charged with
assessing the Rock'n Rolla Hotel in Memphis as her family
intends to buy it following her renovation evaluation.
Arriving at the hotel as a guest during Elvis Week, it
isn't long until the manager, Tony Ortega, realizes her
hidden intent at visiting, especially since she knows
nothing of Elvis, which is the entire theme of this very
unusual hotel. In the absence of the wealthy owner,
Willodean Jackson, Tony should send Randa packing, but is
drawn to her by some unknown reason and plays along until
his boss arrives back home. Randa begins to feel a totally
unexpected draw to the sexy, sober man. Before long they
find themselves together more than apart and Randa is
beginning to question her constant obedience to her father's
wishes, which completely ignores what she herself wants.
Unable to sway Willodean to soften towards selling, Randa
returns home with the hot sex and longing for Tony set aside
to convince her father to forget the Rock'n Rolla Hotel and
let her manage a new hotel in Memphis. The idea rejected,
Randa again feels worthless to the W Group and decides to
make her own fate. Tony is kicking himself that he let
Randa slip away and vows he will change it.
CAN'T HELP FALLING IN LOVE is the second book I have read
by this author and
have loved this one as much as the first. Cheryl Harper is
very talented and keeps the reader on their toes with her
wit and amusing story telling. Her characters are so real
to the reader that you find yourself living through their
disappointments and joys. The story was a joy to read and
amusing from page one to the end. This will have you on
your
toes keeping up with the energetic Randa. I definitely
plan to read the other books in this Elvis and Memphis
theme. Keep them coming!
As a former Marine, hotel manager Tony Ortega has plenty of
experience assessing threats and the hotel's newest guest,
Randa Whitmore, is a code red. Tall, blonde, and with legs
for miles, she may look like his every fantasy, but he knows
she's not really visiting for the famed Elvis Week. Though
dangerously drawn to his new guest, Tony will do anything to
protect his job...especially if it means sleeping with the
enemy.
Business strategist Randa Whitmore never meant to be
undercover in Memphis. In August. Sweating her expensive spa
treatments away. But snagging another perfect hotel location
for her father's empire means using all the tricks in her
designer arsenal. And even though the sexy, tattooed manager
seems oblivious to her charms, Randa's prepared to bring out
the big guns – just so long as she can stay objective
and out of Tony's muscled arms. After all, it's just
business, right?
Excerpt
Randa stopped in front of the doors but they automatically
swung open. The music notes on the doors were probably a nod
to the gates of Graceland. They weren’t so bad. She decided
to take a picture and think about it before she made a
recommendation to replace them. But the air conditioning
that wafted out was as beautiful and welcome as the smell of
fresh-baked cookies. If she were a cartoon character, she
would have floated in with her eyes closed in ecstasy.
Sam nodded as she waved and she stopped to absorb the lobby
of the Rock’n’Rolla. It was green. Really, really green. And
not like green paint or carpet. Green like the rainforest.
Plants exploded along one wall of the lobby and she could
hear the faint trickle of a waterfall. Heavy wood chairs
were scattered around and the floors and walls were some
kind of natural stone. What she could see of them. She could
feel the cool stone through her shoes and she wanted to sigh
with relief.
But she was distracted because right in the middle of the
lobby floor was what appeared to be a dead dog. Well, not
dead, but surely dead to the world. Every now and then the
loose lips would twitch. Randa approached it carefully
because while she loved dogs, she didn’t really have much
practical experience. Dogs didn’t work with the all-white,
all-designer, all-expensive Whitmore design aesthetic. Her
mother had told her that often enough. Eventually, Randa had
stopped asking.
Randa squatted and teetered on her four-inch heels for a
minute before she reached out to pet the dog’s long, silky
brown ears. Little green bows fluttered as the dog drowsily
stretched and moved closer to her. She knew she was wearing
a stupid grin, but the softness of his—no, her droopy
ears—and the satisfied “hmph” she let out before she went
back to sleep were reasons to smile. Randa didn’t care who
saw it.
“Can I help you?”
Randa glanced up across the empty lobby to see a thug in
another ugly Hawaiian shirt standing behind the front desk.
Thug might be too harsh. He was tall, dark, and not handsome
but . . . attractive in intensely focused kind of way that
made her nervous. Randa froze as her eyes locked with his.
Close-cut hair gave him a military look, but the dark ink
that ran from his wrist to the sleeve on his left arm said
he was dangerous. Or different. Or both, but he was wearing
a Hawaiian shirt after all. Unless he was robbing the place,
he was part of the staff.
She’d spent most of her life swimming in deep waters where
the sharks were hard to see behind designer labels and
expensive haircuts. This man was so different that he might
have been a whole new species. One with really nice muscles,
big hands, and enough controlled power to merit a second and
third look. He watched her like he knew her, knew everything
about her because hesaw her. He didn’t give her the obvious
leer that she’d seen and dismissed a million times. This
guy, when he looked, saw more than most people. Randa had
spent a lot of time blending in with the perfectly bland
Whitmore woodwork. Being the subject of that much focus made
her restless. She knew exactly how a fluffy bunny felt when
it looked up to see a hungry mountain lion. Well, except the
bunny would run away. She wasn’t sure which direction she’d
run if he crooked his finger right this second. Away was
definitely safer, but all of sudden she was tired of safe.
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