Tangled In Tinsel (With The Nanny)

por Hartley, M

I refused to let myself think about what the alternative might be if I wasn’t able to find a nanny. The door opened, and a swirl of cold air curled around my ankles. I looked up… and immediately forgot about my nanny crisis. Muscles that pulled at the sleeves of his flannel in a way that should be illegal in at least twenty-two states. Dark hair dusted with snow, a jawline that looked like it had been carved by someone with an unhealthy obsession with perfection. And those eyes—sharp, curious, locking onto mine like he’d just spotted the one person he was hoping to find. My cheeks warmed, but not from chestnuts roasting over an open fire. He took a few steps toward the bar, giving me the once-over with a smile that was equal parts charm and trouble.

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