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    Rev My Engine: A Contemporary Romance
    Rev My Engine: A Contemporary Romance
    Rev My Engine: A Contemporary Romance
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    Rev My Engine: A Contemporary Romance

    By Maggie Kane

    ()

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    About this ebook

    My name is Mia and I don't need anybody's help.



    Sure, my life is held together by bobby pins and duct tape, but I just have to hold it together for another month. Another month and I'll graduate, get my dream job, and my days of just getting by will be behind me forever. 
    That's my plan- until my car breaks down and needs repairs I can't afford.  Now, I'm stuck between a rock and hard place- named Garrett Castle. All I have to do is have dinner with this gorgeous hunk of hot mechanic and, voila, my car gets fixed. 
    What's the worst that can happen? I mean it's only dinner- right?



    As a rule, I don't proposition my clients, but the minute Mia walked into my garage, the rule book went out the window. 
    She is a self-made woman who isn't used to accepting help. When she can't come up with the cash to fix her car, I come up with a compromise. This way she can 'earn' her car repairs and I get to spend more time with an attractive, sexy woman over dinner. It's dinner- ONLY dinner.
    When dinner isn't enough, can Mia and Garrett find a way to each give a little in order to gain so much more?



    A stand-alone novella with an HEA and no cliffhanger, this contemporary romance promises a fun story with plenty of heat! Be prepared to steam up the windows because this will rev your engine to its limit! Remember- protect your upholstery and yourself…

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherR&C Publishing
    Release dateMay 17, 2018
    Rev My Engine: A Contemporary Romance

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      Book preview

      Rev My Engine - Maggie Kane

      MAGGIE KANE

      © Copyright 2017 by Maggie Kane

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      ––––––––

      Mia

      The check engine light came on a couple of months ago.  I checked- the engine was still there and running.  I noticed the rattling noise but didn’t see anything obviously loose as I checked and double checked.  So I decided that the little engine light was being overly sensitive about what was obviously a minor issue.  When the rattling became a clanging, the little light started flashing. It might have just been my eyes, but it seemed to be burning even more intensely than before.  I dutifully checked the engine again.  It was still present and accounted for but definitely complaining.  I checked to see if there were any flags with ‘I’m broken’ on them, but the engine was flag free so I decided to keep on rolling. 

      Apparently, that little red engine light finally got tired of being ignored.  This morning, it started flashing with the first turn of the key, and the engine, while still looking marvelous to my untrained eye, escalated from rattles and clangs to a shuddering, coughing, wheezing mess.  I gave the little red light the finger and rested my head on the steering wheel.  I don’t have the cash to fix the car.  I need the car to keep my job.  I need the car to get me to school so I can get out of my miserable dead-end job.  The car has to run.  I bite my lip and tell myself not to cry.  I have a few hundred bucks in my savings account.  It’s supposed to be my rainy day fund. Even though there isn’t a cloud in the sky, it feels like it’s pouring buckets on my parade.  The car has to run.

      I take in a deep breath that only shudders a bit less than my poor engine and gingerly put the reluctant machine into gear. It sputters and stops. Dammit, I say under my breath and cross my fingers as I turn the key again. She fires up and I find the balance between rolling to a stop in neutral and keeping my foot on the gas to keep the RPMs up.  The little engine light is flashing madly.  I toss my scarf over it so I can’t see it anymore.  There’s no need to be pissy about it, I think. 

      Somewhere around 10th Street, I’m whispering a nonstop prayer promising everything from church every Sunday to celibacy if only I can get to the garage. I pry my hands off the steering wheel 10 minutes later when I pull into a little garage off 5th street.  My friend, Cara, said that she brought her car here, and they had done a good job.  She also told me to ask for Mike and to show a lot of cleavage and flirt a bit to get a discount.

      Looking in the rearview mirror, I swipe on mascara and lip gloss, pull my v-neck t-shirt as low as it goes, and rearrange the girls to maximize their view.  Chin up and shoulders back, I concentrate on exuding a ‘come hither’ confidence.  The truth is, I’m not very good at playing the seductress.  I don’t flaunt myself or flirt.  Hell, I haven’t even had a date in the last 6 months- unless you count that guy who slid into the booth across from me at McDonald’s, ate his happy meal and told me about the clock in his chest.  He offered to let me listen to it, and sadly, that’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time. 

      It’s not that I don’t think I’m attractive or have low self-esteem.  I just don’t have time or energy to deal with it all.  I’m a month away from finishing grad school with my Master’s in Business. I’ve worked my ass off to get here. No student loans. No massive credit card debt. I’m pretty freaking proud of myself- because I’ve done it all myself. My parents and I don’t see eye to eye on anything, and I’ve been on my own since I was 16.

      Needless to say, dating hasn’t been my priority for the last several years. Survival has. Most of the time, my curly hair is in a poufy ponytail, my teeth are brushed, my clothes are clean, and that’s as good as it gets.  Today is much the same, except my jeans have grease on them from wiping my hands clean after all of my diligent engine checking.

      I give myself a bit of pep talk as I push into the office with its dingy little ‘Open’ sign propped next to the door. I am sexy, I tell myself over and over, trying to channel my inner sex goddess and paste a bright smile on my face.

      I step into a small anteroom that seems to be decorated in gray with accents of gray. The walls are covered with tattered posters of classic cars with classic beauties draped across their hoods and signs that say ‘No Smoking’ and’ Payment Due at Time of Service’.  I mentally calculate the total in both my checking and savings account. If I juggle my power bill until next paycheck and eat only Spaghetti-O’s and Ramen noodles- I have just over $700 to fix my poor beleaguered car.  There had been a buzz with the opening of the door, so I wait in front of a messy blue metal desk with a 1970’s office chair that appears to be held together by duct tape and hope.

      Voices drift in from the garage area. I can’t make out the words, but the exchange has some heat to it. I frown, trying to listen. I don’t need Mike pissed off and not in the mood to give a girl a break. The door bangs open and through it walks a tall, lean, toned, delicious looking man reeking of masculinity, and if I’m not mistaken, trouble- big trouble.

      Chapter 2

      ––––––––

      Garrett

      I am going to kill him, I think as I walk to the office to check on whoever had just walked in. This was the third time I had caught Mike screwing one of our clients in the backseat of her own car. He just didn’t seem to understand the potential disaster it could be if he tried that with the wrong woman. Of course, judging by the moans and screams of his last debauchery, she wasn’t going to be complaining. Apparently, Mike was Oh my God, fucking amazing- or at least that is what she kept saying over and over and over. I wasn’t listening on purpose. I just couldn’t help but hear it- all the way in my office. If Mike wasn’t my best friend and the best mechanic around, I’d fire

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