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Violet Amelia Connor, known to all as Leah, is a
landscape designer who inherited her love of gardening from the eccentric aunt
she lives with. Leah is contracted to work on the garden of Private
Investigator Sean Russel and unwittingly becomes embroiled in the handsome PI’s
cases. A series of unpleasant experiences land her in real trouble where she is
kidnapped, bashed, bound and altogether becomes a party to such mayhem she is
forced to wonder how she ever got mixed up in this mess. But her indomitable
spirit, obstinate nature, and incurable sense of humor enable her to override
all obstacles. And of course there is her overwhelming attraction for Sean
Russel that started it all.
Previously published
as Shrinking Violet this book was a finalist in the Romance Writers of
Australia’s Romantic Book of The Year in 2006.
“I
have nothing against females doing any job. That is not the point here. This
work was ordered without my knowledge or consent, and anyway what’s wrong with
the garden as it is?” He waggled his fingers as he looked over my shoulder,
which wasn’t hard for him to do seeing as I barely reached his chin.
“Pardon
me, but if you think your garden doesn’t need work then you must be half
blind.” That was rude, I know, but this guy was beginning to rattle me. Why the
hell didn’t he just let me get on with the job I’d been paid to do?
“There
is nothing wrong with my eyes.” He cast a glance up and down me, making me feel
like I did when Patrick, my live-in lover of three years, walked out on me two
years ago—on my 33rd birthday. The rat went off to live with a mouse
of a woman who had no spunk, no energy, and no boobs. Stupid prat! They made a
good pair, a rat and a mouse. Last I heard she was pregnant—perhaps she’d give
birth to a chipmunk.
“Look,
seeing as I’ve already been paid by your sister, why can’t I just finish this
and then I’ll be on my way, out of your beard.” I gave the whiskery chin a
sneer. “And you can have it out with Mrs. Weston. This is your problem, not mine.”
The
beard got a rub or two. The look in his eye said he was tiring of the whole
business. “How much did she pay you for God’s sake? My sister is not a sane
woman.”
“She
paid me the going rate. And I think she’s a very sensible person. At least she
appreciates the importance of a neat garden.” I glared at him.
His
snort said a thousand words. He now rubbed his nape. He was doing an awful lot
of rubbing, drawing my attention to his hands. They were strong, tanned, the
fingers long and the nails clean. Obviously hands that weren’t used to hard
work. I put my work-soiled mitts behind my back. I really should wear gloves
more often to do the hard stuff.
“What’s
it to be?” I hoped I sounded as fed up with the whole business as he appeared
to be. “I have a signed contract, but it’s against all my principles to leave a
job unfinished. My reputation would be at stake.”
He
sighed as if he held the worries of the world on his wide shoulders.
“How
hard can it be to decide to let me finish what’s started? Your garden looks
like a wilderness now, and will look like a showplace when I’ve finished with
it.” I hope. Well, I was sure actually. I’d never had a complaint—yet.
Those
beautiful eyes assessed me for a long moment. I shifted uneasily. I didn’t like
being assessed. When they settled on my breasts I folded my arms so the
clipboard was held across my front like a shield, and gave him another glare
meant to intimidate him.
He
now looked amused. “What possesses a woman like you to do this for a job,
anyway?” he stunned me by asking. I felt like flooring him with a swift punch.
“How
the bloody hell do you know what sort of woman I am?” My cheeks had reddened I
know, and I cursed the fair coloring I’d inherited from my English mother.
“Forgive
me.” He looked unrepentant. “Let me rephrase that. You’re not very big, are
you? And digging and that sort of thing is usually done by big blokes with wide
shoulders and not much brains.”
“Does
that mean then that you consider I’ve got brains? And my size has nothing to do
with anything. I consider that an insult to my mates in the same game. I know
some very intelligent landscapers. I love making gardens.” Had loved it since
I’d helped Aunt Eliza plan and remodel the first one behind the big rambling
house she’d bought when she first came over from England to care for me and two
year old Harry.
“Okay,
go ahead and do your thing, if it makes you happy.” He wagged a finger before
my face. I frowned at it. “But let me tell you, Miss—” He looked bewildered.
“What’s your handle?” He glanced over to my truck, then down at my left hand,
at my ringless fingers still clutching the clipboard in front of me. “Miss
Violet Amelia Connor.”
That
was printed on the door of my truck. I wasn’t too struck on either of my names,
but Aunt Eliza and Harry persuaded me my full name sounded very professional
and so ought to be emblazoned to show the world I was a really capable worker.
“Call
me Leah, everyone else does,” I told him with a touch of defiance. I don’t know
why, but he brought out the worst in me.
“Okay,
Lee-ah.” He drew it out so he sounded like a Chinaman. “Get your work over as
fast as you can and get out of my hair. Right?”
My
nose went up in the air haughtily. “I do not rush my work. I will do exactly
what I have been paid to do. And as for keeping out of your way, I will not
bother you one little whit.”
I
turned to march off. My haughty exit was rather spoiled when I tripped over a
crack in the wooden porch floor and almost fell. Immediately he was at my side,
his hand on my arm, warm and strong. His touch unsettled me, so I gave him
another glare and he removed his hold.
I
waved my clipboard at the offending crack. “You ought to get that fixed,
mister. Someone is going to sue you before long if they actually fall and do
themselves some damage.”
“She's a pushy, nosy gardener; he's a drop dead
gorgeous PI… This is a delightfully funny, romantic story… I strongly recommend
this engaging novel to all romance lovers.”
Nadine St Dennis Romance Junkies.
Please take a minute to hop on over to these blogs for more snippets from amazing authors:
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http://connievines.blogspot.com.au/
Connie Vines
http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ Juliet Waldron
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