by Noelle Adams
Trophy Husbands Series book #1
by Noelle Adams
Trophy Husbands Series book #1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 29, 2018
On a Wednesday afternoon, I ask Trevor Bentley to marry me. He might be the most arrogant, obnoxious man I know, but I need him to be my husband for a year.
There are reasons.
He's not going to be a real husband. Just part-time. Yes, I have to live with him. And, okay, I also have to share his bed. And, sure, he's the sexiest and most exciting thing to ever happen to my controlled, organized life.
But still... It's only a part-time marriage. I'm not going to give him my heart. I know what I'm doing, and I'm too smart to fall for my husband.
As the eldest of three adult siblings, Melissa is used to taking on the role of carer. She is also a formidable businesswoman in her own right, and when her grandfather threatens both her job and the financial support of her sisters, Melissa falls in with his plans to get her married off. Except she’ll do it her way and propose to a man her grandfather detests; Trevor Bentley. Marketing guru, business competitor and subservient to no one, especially Melissa’s grandfather. Trevor agrees to the proposal when Melissa offers him a prized business deal.
Written from Melissa’s point of view, the story is largely told in a somewhat perfunctory manner, I assume to align with her matter-of-fact state of mind. There’s a place for everything, and everything in its place, including a part-time husband.
To her frustration, Trevor proves difficult to compartmentalise. I loved Trevor. He’s a mystery to Melissa but readers get to see his vulnerability and his genuine feelings for Melissa. His straightforward and honest approach sets Melissa on edge. She has no clue what to make of him at times. And she certainly did not sign up for romance, never mind that she’s wildly attracted to him.
Like with all marriages of convenience in a romance novel, they are remarkably inconvenient to begin with yet over time, these two slowly open up to each other and provide readers with a lovely romance that’s peppered with plenty of banter and humour.
I’m feeling warm and relaxed when I finally get out of the bathtub. I usually don’t walk around the apartment unless I’m covered up, but since Trevor isn’t here I just wrap a towel around me. My hair is piled up messily on my head, and I’m carrying my bath salts and soap.
I open the bathroom door and nearly run smack into Trevor.
I give a little squeal and immediately look to make sure my towel is in place. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“I just got back.”
“I was in the bath.”
“I know that.” He’s looking very sexy in that end-of-the-day way he has. Five-o’clock shadow. Slightly loosened tie and collar. Half-lowered eyelids.
God, the man is hot.
“I could smell you as soon as I walked in the door,” he adds, the slightly rough words doing nothing for my flustered state of mind.
“You smelled me?” I’m thinking all kinds of things at the moment, and none of them are suitable to share with the man in front of me.
He reaches over, and I swallow over a quick intake of breath. I think he’s going to touch me. I want him to touch me.
He touches my bath salts instead. “This stuff you put in your bath. I smelled it as soon as I walked in, so I knew you were in the bath.”
It’s perfectly logical. And kind of a disappointment.
His hand moves from the bath salts, and his fingertips slowly trail up my towel to the bare skin at my collarbone. It’s barely a touch, but it makes my skin flush and a pulsing begin between my legs.
“What did you think?” he asks, his voice a little thicker than normal.
“What did I think about what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. My brain isn’t exactly functioning at the moment.
“What did you think I smelled?”
“I… I didn’t know.”
It feels like he sees.
It feels like he sees all of me.
I’m staring at his plum-colored tie because it’s safer than meeting his eyes right now. I don’t want him to know how I’m feeling, how his touch, his presence is affecting me.
“Are you planning to move out of the doorway? I need to use the bathroom.”
And that’s like a load of bricks on my breathlessness. I’m able to meet his gaze now with a cool expression as I step out of the doorway.
I’m on my way out of the room when he says, “We can return to this particular conversation a little later in bed if you want.”
The asshole knows exactly what I was feeling just now.
Fortunately I’m not feeling it anymore.
“I don’t think so.”
I turn my head and see him smirking at me, as if he thinks he’s already won.
He hasn’t won.
“Yes, I’m sure. The problem is that any kind of conversation with you involves your infuriating personality, and that just doesn’t work for me.”
“I think it does.”
“You think wrong. And I thought you had to go to the bathroom.”
“I do. We’ll resume this conversation at a later date.”
Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she reads any book she can get her hands on and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.