Baxter Girl in Trouble

A slow burn romance
1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 661-000014916-2
Verlag: Rhoda Baxter
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 322 Seiten

'If the song 'Miss Independent' was a book, it would be Girl In Trouble' 
Olivia doesn't believe in happy families. She can't trust men to be reliable, so she'd rather manage without one.

Marine biologist Walter thinks Olivia is amazing. With his daughter moving to the USA with her mother, he feels like he's failing at being a father.

When Olivia discovers she's pregnant by her douchebag ex, Walter finally sees a way to be more than just a friend-with-benefits to her. It might also give him the second chance to be a good dad.

But how can he persuade the most independent woman he's ever met to accept his help, let alone his heart?

Girl In Trouble is a standalone novel in the award nominated Smart Girls series. If you like warm, witty, closed door romance, you'll love this contemporary romantic comedy. Ideal for fans of Meg Cabot, Jenny Holiday or Jennifer Crusie. Buy Girl In Trouble and have a laugh today.
What readers are saying:
'Heartwarming. Funny. Sad. Just perfect.' Texas, Amazon review
'Bought this yesterday and practically inhaled it because I really really had to know how it ended before I went to sleep!' Madhuka, Amazon review
'I absolutely loved every second of Girl In Trouble, it's witty in places and utterly emotional at other times, and it deals with some deeper issues too.' Rachel's Random Reads
'Rhoda Baxter's characters are the real deal. She writes heroes and heroines who jump from the pages to carry me along to their happy endings.' - Sue Moorcroft (Bestselling Author)
'If the song 'Miss Independent' was a book, it would be Girl In Trouble' Jocelyn on Twitter
'Sets up the sentimental situation only to send it spinning in entirely unexpected directions.' Romance Novels for Feminists
'I liked how Walter and Olivia complete each other. She can sometimes be a little too hard and he can be a bit too soft, so they complement one another beautifully. For me that was the biggest strength of the story, something I absolutely loved.' With Love For Books
'If you're going on holiday, or a long train journey, you will devour this.' Sandra Danby (author and book blogger)
'The characters are what makes it - they keep you turning the pages as you're so invested in what might happen to them.' Jo on Amazon
'There was a real punch of emotional depth - one minute I'd be grinning at what the characters were saying or doing and the next I was fighting tears. Highly recommended.' KT on Amazon
'The pages fly by' - Goodreads review

Autoren/Hrsg.

Baxter, Rhoda

Leseproben

Walter stepped out of the airport and turned his phone on. It beeped as it reconnected with the UK mobile phone network. He checked his messages almost by reflex. There was a message from his ex-wife. Frowning, he opened it. Charlotte: Helo Daddy Its Emily her. Mummy sais your comin home. That is gud. I mised you. Emily Luv xxx xxxxxxcxxx Ah. The message wasn’t from Charlotte, but from their daughter. Seeing her was the best thing about being back in country. He quickly texted Charlotte to remind her to bring Emily round to see him and strode out to find a taxi. It was just after midnight now. With luck, he could get home and grab a few hours’ sleep before the morning. OLIVIA COULDN’T SLEEP. The longer she lay there, the more elusive it seemed to be. She turned her phone on and looked again at the messages from Will. Will: Hi. Was fun the other night. Never kissed a best man before ;-). Want to do dinner on Thursday? Will. Olivia: Can’t say the same myself. Friday would be better. When and where? Will: How about I come and pick you up around 8pm on Friday? Just send me your postcode and I’ll come find you. She turned the screen back off and put the phone away, face down. Will was fun. She smiled. Lots of fun. She hadn’t expected to hear from him again. A drunken fumble after a stag do didn’t usually lead to anything. But there it was, a message from him. That was all good. It had been some time since she’d met a man she actually wanted to date. Most of the men in her life were guys she met on holiday. Short, sweet flings that fitted into days of water sport or skiing. None of them had swept her off her feet or made her feel inclined to settle down to a life of monotony and domestic servitude. She sighed. Clearly, she wasn’t going to fall asleep. She rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of socks so that she could walk to the kitchen. Olivia rented the downstairs rooms of a larger house. She had a living room and a bedroom with a tiny en suite bathroom, and access to the galley kitchen at the back. While she could lock herself into her two rooms, in order to get to the kitchen she had to use the shared main hallway, which had the front door at one end, and the galley kitchen, with a door leading into the garden at the other. Sharing the hallway wasn’t a problem at the moment, since there was nobody living upstairs. Mrs Hanborough had mentioned that her son, who owned the house, was away “on a research trip”. When he returned, Olivia just hoped he didn’t disturb her. She worked hard so she deserved her sleep during the week. After years of cramped shared apartments, the luxury of being able to live in a real house, with not one, but two rooms and a clean kitchen, was still wonderful. Because of the weird kitchen arrangement, these rooms had been a bargain, by London standards, and with her new job in the legal department of one of the top management consultancy firms, she’d decided to treat herself. The house was one of those tall Georgian ones and the tiled hallway floor was cold underfoot, even with socks on. She didn’t bother turning on the light. It wasn’t fully dark in the house – it was never fully dark anywhere in London as far as she knew. She got herself a pint glass of water, had a brief debate with herself before deciding against toast. She was part way back to her bedroom when she heard a scratching noise coming from the front door. Olivia froze and peered towards the old-fashioned door. Definitely someone trying the lock. Her whole body tensed. What should she do? She ducked into her room and grabbed her phone. She unlocked it and dashed back out to the corridor, her thumb hovering over the number 9, in case she needed emergency services. She took another look and started in horror. The lock went clunk and the door opened. She punched the light switch and took a photo of the burglar. “Get out! I’m calling the police!” she shouted. A tall, hairy man in a waterproof jacket jerked backward as the flash blinded him. He squinted back at her. “Who the hell are you?” he said. “I’ve got your photo. They’ll be able to identify you,” said Olivia, punching the numbers without taking her eyes off him. “Hello. Police, please. I want to—” “Wait!” said the man. “I’m Walter Hanborough. This is my house.” Olivia stopped talking. Hanborough? She stared and noticed the key he was pulling out of the lock. Burglars didn’t often carry keys to houses, did they? The voice on the line said, “Are you still there, caller? Hello?” “Um ... false alarm, I think. Sorry. I thought there was a burglar but he might not be one,” Olivia said, and hung up before the woman could say anything else. “You’re Mrs Hanborough’s son?” She pointed the phone at him, like it was a weapon. “Yes.” The man pulled an enormous rucksack into the house and kicked the door behind him. He looked dressed for hiking, in waterproof and jeans. “Who are you?” He looked her up and down. He seemed more puzzled than angry. “I live here.” Suddenly, she was very aware that she was wearing only a large T-shirt and a pair of socks. “Er ... I’m Olivia. I live ...” She pointed to her room. “Here.” He rolled his eyes. “She let the rooms out. Well, she could have told me!” He took a step forward and held out a hand. “I’m Walter. I’m sorry I gave you a fright. If I’d known that we had a new tenant, I would have let you know I was coming back.” Olivia came forward and shook his hand. She took a couple of steps backward and resisted the urge to pull the hem on her T-shirt further down her thighs. “Right. Well. No problem.” Walter hefted his bag onto his shoulder. “I guess I’d better go upstairs.” His eyes twinkled at her from behind round spectacles. He must have been smiling, although it was hard to tell with all that hair. There were brown curls all over the place – beard, sideburns, the lot. “I’ll come and introduce myself properly in the morning. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” Olivia nodded. Walter locked the door again and started up the stairs. She gratefully backed away into her room and shut the door. And locked it, just in case. Lying back in her bed, she listened to the tread of Walter moving around upstairs. She could follow his progress around his flat from the sound. She had been the only occupant in the house for a month now and it was strange knowing that someone else was there too. Still, no point worrying about it. She’d have to deal with Walter tomorrow. After work. From: Walter Hanborough To: Lawrence Crofton Subject: Arachnids Attachment: spider.jpeg I come home after 8 weeks on a boat. All I wanted was to have a shower and get into my own bed. Look what was waiting for me! What a monster. OLIVIA WAS JUST DRIFTING off when there was a knock on the door. This time, she remembered to pull on her dressing gown before answering it. Walter stood outside. He had removed his waterproof and was now in jeans and a shirt that wasn’t tucked in. It made him look considerably less threatening. His hair and beard were still there though, so he didn’t look any less mad. “What?” said Olivia, keeping firmly behind the door. Walter rubbed the back of his head in what might have been an embarrassed way. “Sorry to bother you, but ... er ... are you any good with spiders?” She stared at him, confused. “Spiders?” “It’s just that there’s a huge one on the shower curtain and I really want to use the shower, you see ... and ...” “It’s three in the morning and you want me to come and evict a spider for you?” For the second time in half an hour, she reassessed him. He’d gone from burglar to peculiar neighbour to ... freaking nutcase. “Yes, please. If you don’t mind. Otherwise, I suppose I could get the Hoover out.” He looked thoughtful. “Although, I don’t want to kill it as such, just get it out of my house.” She glared at him some more, expecting him to wither underneath the force of it. He just stood there looking expectantly at her. A bloke asking a girl to remove a spider for him should be cringing with embarrassment. What was wrong with this guy? “Please?” he said. “I’ve been travelling for the last twenty-six hours and I really, really, REALLY want to have a shower and just fall into bed. Pleeease?” She sighed. “Fine.” He shuffled backwards to give her room to lock the door. “Thank you. I know it seems strange, but I really am terrified of the buggers. I’m getting better though. It used to take me ages to be able to move again after I freeze. I managed it in under a minute this time.” “You know they can’t hurt you.” “I know. Irrational phobia though, you see.” “They’re more scared of you than you are of them.” She let him go past so that she was following him up the stairs. “That’s a rational argument. Irrational phobia, remember,” he said over his shoulder. Olivia rolled her eyes. The door to the upstairs flat was open. Olivia had never been up there before. She followed Walter into a spacious room decorated in shades of beige. The only colour was from framed photos on the wall. Walter’s backpack and waterproof jacket was a splash of dark on the floor as though he’d just dumped them...