BLURB
Discover beautiful South Africa in this sweet, heart-warming Cinderella story about a blogger, a billionaire, and one chance meeting.
When it comes to men, if physiotherapist Caitlin Sutherland didn’t have bad luck, she’d have no luck at all. To help cope, Caitlin blogs about the men she meets and the bad dates she’d gone on.
While on duty during the annual Wines to Whales bicycle race, a gorgeous, sweaty cyclist walks in and sets her hormones dancing. But he is Don Cavallo; one of the four Cavallo brothers — hotel tycoons, famous as much for their business skills as for the number of beauties seen on their arms.
Billionaire Don Cavallo has his own issues with the other sex. He has yet to find one who is interested in him, not his money or hotels. But when this sexy physio puts her hands on his back, she not only touches his body, but also his heart.
They’ve both been burned before, but neither of them can stop themselves from playing with fire.
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EXCERPT:
“I’m sorry, but I don’t trust a man who shaves his legs,” Caitlin said, cradling the cell phone against her shoulder while flexing her fingers. She’d been massaging cyclists for the better part of thirty minutes.
It was the end of the second day of the grueling annual Wines to Whales cycling race, which had started at Lourensford Estate in Somerset West, situated less than an hour’s drive from Cape Town. She and the other two physiotherapists on duty had not been all that busy the previous day. Only a few cyclists with minor injuries had come to see them but from their experience the previous year, they had known the second day would take its toll on the cyclists.
The physio team had been treating a steady stream of riders with back pain, knee injuries, and hip problems. When Dana phoned, Caitlin had just finished with a patient and for the moment, at least, it was quiet. The other two therapists were busy on the far side of the big tent.
“You, my friend, don’t trust men, period. There is a very good reason cyclists shave their legs; as a physiotherapist who often works on them, you should know that.” Dana giggled over the phone.
“Yes, I know shaved legs are easier to treat when there are wounds, but really? A man should have hair on his legs. It’s just a given.”
“You get to put your hands on gorgeous, virile, sexy cyclists in tight shorts and you want to complain?” Dana sounded exasperated.
“Sexy? Cyclists? Seriously? They all look the same. Underfed, sinewy, and hairless. There is nothing sexy about a man who looks like that. And virile? I don’t know about that. Sitting on a saddle all day—”
Caitlin heard a movement behind her. “Got to go,” she quickly said to Dana and turned around. And blinked. A big, sweaty, sexy, gorgeous-looking cyclist with ink-black hair and chocolate brown eyes was standing just inside the tent, his helmet tucked under his arm. If the frown between his eyes was anything to go by, he was seriously ticked off.
Without consciously thinking about it, she dropped her gaze down to his legs. They were dirty and okay, hairless, but all muscle. Sexy, rippling muscle. He moved slowly toward her, the tight shorts leaving very little to her overactive imagination.
“I’m looking for a physio,” he said brusquely.
She looked up. “I’m a physio. Can I help you?” she asked, trying to sound professional.
“If you’re quite sure you’ve finished with your fascinating phone conversation,” he said.
Swallowing a quick retort, she tried to hold back her rising annoyance. He might be gorgeous to look at, but what a rude man. She ignored the sarcastic comment and motioned him to one of the high beds on which they worked.
“Back?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said and nodded, looking even more irritated.
“Please take off your shirt and lie down on your stomach,” Caitlin said and turned away, looking for the massage oil.
“Any pain in your legs?” she asked as she turned back to him. And nearly dropped the bottle of oil she was holding.
On the same level as her eyes was the most perfect six-pack of steel muscles she had ever seen. And if she hadn’t been holding something in her hand, she would probably have done something stupid like putting out a hand and touching him to make sure his abs really felt as hard as they looked.
Author BInfo
I write love stories because I love reading them. I like the heroines to be feisty, independent and headstrong. And the heroes must be strong but possess a generous amount of sensitivity and should of course, be gorgeous!
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