their head-to-head challenge lead to disaster - Love Don't Live Here Anymore (The Andrew Sisters #1) by Keke Renée

Will the pair on opposite sides of a fight join forces in and out of the bedroom or will their head-to-head challenge lead to disaster.

Description:

Published: November 2018

Vanessa Andrew is done with love. She decided that from now on, everyone she meets is a suspect. All she wants to do is focus on building her Clothing store up, but her plans take an interesting turn when a chance meeting with the handsome owner of the building leaves her confused, frustrated, and her heart pounding. 

Isaiah Reed, a playboy by night and business mogul by day, acquires a nearly defunct property; he has no idea that a curvaceous designer is poised to fight him at every turn. 

Will the pair on opposite sides of a fight join forces in and out of the bedroom or will their head-to-head challenge lead to disaster.

Short Story, 13k words, fast paced, explicit sex scenes, with a HFN.

This is not a sweet or fluffy romance. 

EXCERPT

Forty-five minutes later, I was getting out of my Uber, carrying a sketchbook, coffee mug, and listening to a classic Tamia song “Stranger in My House” as I returned a text message on my phone. While closing the door of the Uber, engrossed in my phone, I bumped into a hard body and fell on my ass, spilling my favorite coffee on my dress, phone, and shoes.

I blew a frustrated breath of air. “What the hell?” I yelled at the person that wasn’t paying attention.

“Excuse me,” he replied as he gathered his things and bent down to help me, feeling annoyed with his closeness and my vagina thumping wanting to jump his bones.

Smacked his hand away, I stood up and cursed at the coffee stain on my new dress. “Look what you did!”

“Lady, you ran into me. If you weren’t so caught up in texting your boyfriend you’d notice someone coming,” he informed me and started to walk around to go into the office building I was entering.

"For your information, I wasn't texting a boyfriend. I was replying to a client and why am I explaining myself to a stranger,” I responded in annoyance, grabbing my purse, phone, and sketchbook off the ground. I wiped the liquid off my hands, face, and legs. I noticed he was holding the door and I rolled my eyes as I walked ahead of him.

“So now you decide to be a Gentleman. All men are just the-”

“Sweetie, my day was going well until you opened your mouth. If you're done or finished, I’d like to get on with my business. You're not hurt so you don’t need medical assistance,” He told me and walked off toward the elevator.

“I’m not your Sweetie, asshole!” I shouted behind his back.

The demanding tone and angered glare had me a little scared, at the same time wet. I promised myself after dealing with Troy I’d never date again, but seeing this tall drink of water standing in front of me up close, had me rethinking a few things. He was about 6’3 in height, with a moustache and goatee lined up to perfection with no bumps. Whoever his barber is, they’re doing a great job. Made me want to rub my hand up and down his cheek. He had a low-cut wave with sharp cheekbones and broad nose. His lips were full, and his skin was a deep brown. His eyes were deep-set, kind of bugged out with me annoying him, framed with thick, trimmed eyebrows.

Shaking off any impure thoughts and walking toward the elevator, I got on as the crowd piled inside. Just my luck we ended up next to each other in the back, with my back to his chest. The heat radiating off his breath on my neck caused butterflies in my stomach and moisture in my panties. I closed my eyes. Stay focused.

The elevator finally stopped on my floor and lo and behold, I almost stumbled trying to get through the crowd, he ends up getting off at the same level.

“Are you following me?” I questioned as we both turned in the same direction.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he responded and walked off toward another glass door, and I stopped at the receptionist desk. Her name reads Pamela.

“Welcome to Reed and Associates. How can I help you?” Pamela asked.

"Yes, I have an appointment with an Isaiah Reed about my store, "A Style's Eye" on 2324 Benson Street in Burbank. It’s currently on the market to be sold, and I recently signed a year's lease. I have paperwork from the owners of the building that my lease is null and void, because they sold the building to Reed and Associates without even giving much notice."

“Do you have an appointment Miss?” Pamela asked rudely and typed my name into the computer.

“Miss Andrew, and no Pamela, I don’t have an appointment, and I’m not leaving until I speak with someone in charge!” I raised my voice.

She clenched her fists and looked around at everyone in the lobby watching us.

“I could have security escort you out,” Pamela smugly replied.

Debating if I should snap back at her or not, since I really didn’t have a scheduled appointment. I thought if I could plead my case the owners would rethink the issue of demolishing the property. I walked over to the lounge and flopped down on the chair in the lobby and texted my sister Isabella. Our parents celebrated their twenty-fifth anniversary. Even though Isabella’s a tax attorney, she could still pull some strings or pretend to anyway, until I can figure out the next steps.

Hearing a throat clear, and smelling that same cologne from my run in outside, I look up and see the guy I bumped into.

“Yes?”

“Follow me,” he told me and walked away from me. I could stay seated and wait for my sister to contact me back; but seeing how far I’ve come, and not wanting to lose my store, I have to push through and get this fixed before they start construction on tearing my building down.

I grabbed up everything and followed behind Mr. Rude ass.

He stops , and I notice the name on the door is President Isaiah Reed. My stomach started turning knots. Entering behind him, I stood close by the door as he closed it and motioned with his hand to take a seat in front of his desk.

As he walked toward me unbuttoning his jacket and stood in front of the desk, I could smell his cologne lingering in the air. Must have been the Ralph Lauren collection. He leaned his head to the left and smiled at my flustered state and heavy breathing. I stood up and closed the space between us, remembering why I was here in the first place.

“Listen, Mr. Reed, I’m not sure if you're aware, but your company just bought the building my boutique is inside of, called A Style’s Eye, and I recently signed an agreement for a year’s lease with the former landlord”.

He stood up, with a mischievous smile on his face. He walked right in front of me, forcing me to take a step back, so we weren’t chest-to-chest. “I’m not sure why you’ve come to my office about your store, Mrs.”

“Miss Andrew and you own the company correct?” Feeling my phone vibrate, I glanced down and saw Isabella replying to meet at her office. Responding with an “okay,” I put my phone away and shifted from one foot to the other. Crossing my arms over my chest waiting to hear what this asshole had to say.

“Yes, I own the company, and unfortunately, your business will have to relocate within the designated time of thirty days. I’m tearing the building down and opening a shopping mall. If you are looking for a new place in two years, I’d be more than happy to give you first choice at prime space and pricing,” he

informed me, walking closer and looking down at me with a smirk on his face.

Rolling my eyes, clenching my teeth, and blowing out a strained breath, I sat back down and thought of another angle to the situation.

“If you need anything else Miss Andrew, I suggest you take it up with my lawyer. He’d be more than happy to assist you with a resolution to your problem.” He flicked his business card out.

Hesitating to want to accidentally brush against him again, I finally take it out of his hand. Our fingers grazed and the strongest spark I've ever felt before passed between us. "Mr. Reed, you have no idea what this will do to my business and life. I can't just move after finally getting clients and building a name for myself. We can't all be millionaires like you. Some of us mom-an- pop owners have to work for a living!"

I stood and put the business card in my purse before storming out of his office and past Pamela flirting with the security guard as I walked by the receptionist desk.

The wait for my Uber was about five minutes. As I got in the car, I looked back at the building with a strange feeling that someone was watching me. When I glanced up, Mr. Reed was standing at his window looking down at me. Not wanting to show any tears, I turned away and got in the car heading to my sister's office.

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About the author:

A Tennessee native and CA dreaming Author Keke Renee is living and striving to continue her passion of writing Short Story romances from Erotic, Paranormal and Urban fiction. She also writes under the name Chiquita Dennie.

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