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The Rule Maker
The Rule Maker
The Rule Maker
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The Rule Maker

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Things I'd love to say to Ryder Covington...

I hate you more than a hole in my favorite pair of leggings.

Your smirk makes me want to yell in all shouty caps.

You're really gorgeous...until you open your mouth.

Stop looking at me like that. You're not ripping my panties off.

Saying those things to him would be the whipped cream on top of my rocky road ice cream, but I can't, because he's my client. And I'm up for a promotion. Oh, and the little fact that my boss told me to give Mr. Covington everything he wants.

But the only thing he wants is me. And he can't have that.

Each book in the Rule Breakers series is STANDALONE:

* The Rule Book
* The Rule Maker

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 16, 2017
ISBN9781633757998
The Rule Maker
Author

Jennifer Blackwood

Jennifer Blackwood is the USA Today bestselling author of the Rule Breakers, Drexler University, and Snowpocalypse series. Aside from writing contemporary romance, Blackwood teaches English in Oregon, where she lives with her husband, son, and unruly black Lab puppy. When she isn’t writing or teaching, you can find her binge-watching some of her favorite TV shows, such as Supernatural and Gilmore Girls. Visit her author website at www.jenniferblackwood.com, and follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferBlackwood and on Twitter at http://twitter.com/jen_blackwood.

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    3.5 "Breaking Rules for 2nd Chances" Stars for the story and 4.5 Stars for the narration.In a somewhat predictable but nonetheless, entertaining and humorous romance challenging the rules against dating a client, Jennifer Blackwood brings us a 2nd chance at love trope romance. Enhancing this quick and fun title is the talented dual narration by narrator team, Kendall Harper and Ray Irwin.First as this is the 2nd book in the Rule Breakers Series its worth noting that it is not necessary to listen to Book 1, The Rule Book, before this title, as the romance arc of this contemporary story is fully contained within the pages of this book. However, for those of you who did listen to book 1, you'll be pleased to know that Lainey and Brogan continue to make an appearance in this book (as Lainey is the friend of this book's heroine). Zoey, an interior designer, knows that the number one rule to keeping her job is: no dating the clients! When she's assigned to a new project for the renovation of a ski resort, that presently has dubious prospects, however, her ability to follow this rule is challenged when she discovers that her client's brother--who has been tasked with overseeing her work--is none other than a former one night stand. A very hot one that she had wished would be more, but as it turns out, Ryder Covington's number 1 rule directly clashes with her wishes: no woman gets more than one night!Ryder, however, has never forgotten their one night together--a night that features prominently in his fantasies when he's taking care of business on his own (if you know what I mean!). Moreover, his career is currently in turmoil after a leg breaking injury that has put his snow boarding career on ice, causing him to reevaluate his life's priorities overall. There is also a secondary storyline regarding Ryder and his brother, who has been in a terrible accident. Adding in this element of having Ryder conscious and determined to help his brother layers in another level of complexity and affability to Ryder's character. Will Zoey and Ryder be able to complete the project together without breaking their rules? Or will their undeniable attraction cause them to be rule breakers and to what outcome? Moreover, how will the side story of Ryder and his brother develop?Kendall Harper and Ray Irwin adopt the typical dual narration style frequently employed in contemporary romances with Ms. Harper narrating the chapters from the Zoey's perspective and Mr. Irwin the chapters from Ryder's perspective. This style works well to highlight the viewpoint being shared. Moreover, I really enjoyed the voices used by each narrator. Not only did they sound like genuinely believable voices for Zoey and Ryder that were easily distinguishable from one another, but I really enjoyed how each narrator had a good flow to their rendition making listening easy and bringing the story to life.All in all, if you're looking for a fun romance with second chance theme, and enjoy a good laugh with your romances, then this ski resort romance is sure to warm up your Winter listening and lead to some hours of entertainment!Source: Review copy provided for review purposes.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    The Rule Maker by Jennifer Blackwood is book number two in the Rule Breakers series. This is Zoey Reynolds and Ryder Covington's story.Zoey is an interior designer and thought she would be working for Ryder's brother Jason. Boy is she shocked to find out her client is Ryder. Will Zoey be able to follow the rule (Don't sleep with your client...)? It should be easy to follow this rule. But, will that one-night stand they had in the past cause problems?I liked the first book in this series but I loved this book. I was hooked from the beginning. I really loved Zoey and Ryder's characters. They were a lot of fun. A great romance with a sexy couple and lots of humor. I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy of this book.

Book preview

The Rule Maker - Jennifer Blackwood

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover more romance from Entangled

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Blackwood. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

644 Shrewsbury Commons Ave

STE 181

Shrewsbury, PA 17361

rights@entangledpublishing.com

Embrace is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Candace Havens

Cover design by L.J. Anderson/Mayhem Cover Creations

Cover art by vec.stock/DepositPhotos

ISBN 978-1-63375-799-8

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition January 2017

For Amy, Lia, and Chanel—my sanity-keepers.

Chapter One

Rule #1: Never eat while driving.

There was nothing quite like indulging in pity I’m-single-on-Valentine’s-Day chocolate. No man candy? No problem. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups would surely fill the chasm that was my love life.

Siri, read my emails. I unwrapped the candy I’d stashed on my dash, plopped it in my mouth, and put my car into drive.

You have one new email, Siri replied. I loved my car for the sole reason that it had become my command station, my badass Batmobile that could answer emails, texts, and memos at a voice command. Okay, it was a Prius, but still. Sender—Jason Covington.

I jerked back in my seat and sucked in a breath, the chocolate hitting the back of my throat. No. For the love of all that was holy, why was this man emailing me? Anyone but him. I went to clear my throat, and the candy didn’t budge.

Crap.

Ms. Reynolds, it was a pleasure doing business with you on the Culver Cove Inn late last year. I have recently purchased a new resort on Mount Rainier and would like to hire your services again, she said in her monotone voice.

Goose bumps flecked my arms as I attempted to cough, to get some air into my burning lungs. I mean, if I had to choose a way to pass on to an afterlife filled with never-ending reruns of my favorite shows, self-filling coffee cup, and unlimited free wifi, death by chocolate was decidedly the best way to go. Chocolate fountain, satin pie, éclair…hell, I’d even settle for a Snickers. And, as fate would have it, I’d be taking a visit to the white pearly gates with a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup lodged in the back of my throat. But I still had seven episodes until I was caught up on Supernatural, and I hadn’t made it to the highest level in Candy Crush. I didn’t have time for dying yet.

My eyes filled with tears as I fought to extricate the candy from my mouth, attempting to give myself the Heimlich maneuver. And, if my burning lungs were any indication, failing miserably. I looked out at the sidewalk, and of course, at this time of day, there was no one in sight.

I’ll need you to take measurements today so we can discuss the design on Monday. Keys will be sent to you within the hour. Best, Jason Covington. There was a pause and then Siri asked, Do you wish to respond to the email?

No! I wanted to scream. Instead, salt and pepper particles invaded my vision. This was it, I’d die sitting in the spot outside my apartment, listening to an email from a stupid Covington. Even if this particular one wasn’t the target of my wrath, blood relation was enough to taint my opinion.

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Would you like to respond to the email? Siri repeated.

All I could do was keep pounding my stomach, cursing him seven ways to Sunday. I somehow managed a garbled noise that could possibly pass as a no.

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.

Screw you, Siri. For what I paid my phone carrier, she should be able to give me a damn Heimlich herself.

My vision continued to fade and the clock was ticking as I choked my way into unconsciousness. This was it. My last meal had been screw-this-Hallmark-holiday candy and a friggin’ ex-fling was going to be seared into my final fleeting thoughts. What a way to go.

In a last ditch effort, I took hold of the steering wheel with shaking hands and rammed my stomach into it. The piece of chocolate shot out of my mouth and hit the windshield with a splat. It slid down the glass and left a brown slug trail behind it. Sweet, delicious air rushed through my now-clear windpipe and the particles swarming my vision dissipated.

I held my head in my hands, taking deep, shuddering breaths, and cursed the day I decided to take my client’s brother, Ryder Covington, to bed.

Three hours—and much-needed gulping of air—later, I parked my car, facing the snow-capped mountaintop that lay as a backdrop to one of the many ski resorts on Mt. Rainier. This one just happened to be closed for renovations. My renovations. And nothing made me happier than having my mind busy with plans for a new project. It even overshadowed the whole choking incident earlier.

I pulled my windblown hair into a messy bun, smoothed my black eyelet lace skirt, and glanced down at my list of specs I needed to acquire. Room layouts, size, supporting structures, the basics. Then, I had the simple task of creating mock-ups that blew the mind of Jason Covington, the most uptight, eccentric billionaire on the West Coast. He earned that title during our last job together. If I hurried, I could make it back to my apartment in time to implement my original plan for tonight: catch up on Supernatural while gorging on microwave popcorn. Maybe if I was feeling really wild, I’d go for the good stuff. The kind where the bag disintegrated into a sopping mess within twenty minutes due to grease concentration. This was obviously the makings of the best Valentine’s Day ever. Or most pathetic. I hadn’t decided yet.

Air gusted through my open window, ruffling my hair and the pages of my planner in the passenger seat. I took another few seconds to revel in the warmth and give myself a mini pep talk.

Time to get my butt into gear and turn on my designer mode.

Deep breaths. No need to panic just because of the little fact I was working on my ex-fling’s brother’s resort. Try saying that ten times fast.

I grabbed my camera bag from the floor of the passenger seat, plus my notebook and measuring tape, and kicked the door shut behind me.

Gravel crunched under my heels as I made my way to the main lodge. Normally I liked to go through the space with the client to get a feel for what they had in mind for the remodel. On my first project with Jason, he’d also asked me to scout the place without him. Weird, yes, but it didn’t surprise me that I was here solo for this project.

Bring it on, Jason Covington. I can take whatever you throw at me.

I’d managed to hold my own at the most prestigious firm in the city. I was totally ready for this project.

That was until I pulled open the door to the main lodge.

My breath caught in my throat. I’d like to say it was because the entryway was just that beautiful, but what lay in front of me was a chaotic array of chairs, paintings, and wood paneling that screamed seventies love children were conceived here. The seventies had a lot going for itself. I mean, there was Clint Eastwood, ABBA, Cher. This did not have any of that charm—it was just plain outdated, ugly-as-sin, burn-this-place-to-the-ground disgusting. I gulped, forcing stagnant, musty air down my throat.

My fingers ran over the burnt orange window casing as I eyed the suit of armor—missing an arm and foot, propped up in the middle of the room—along with the remains of a broken disco ball, shattered into thousands of pieces.

Design situation: nightmare

Designer emotion: tonight’s greasy popcorn would better serve as lighter fluid to torch this disaster to the ground.

Jason’s email failed to mention that I’d be getting asbestos poisoning and possible death by disco ball with one wrong move. No wonder he sent me to do this alone.

I coughed as I inhaled another breath of noxious air, and beelined for the first available window. After unlocking it, I tugged at the pane and tried to pull it open. It gave a protesting whine as I inched it up the track, and slammed shut when I let go.

I decided not to take that as an ominous clue that I’d entered some kind of resort of tortures, and instead scanned the room for something to prop the window open. After passing over a rusted brass candlestick and a fireplace poker, I settled on an old piece of firewood stacked in the corner. I slid it between the sill and the cracked wood and breathed in the fresh air.

Now that air circulated in the room, making it slightly more tolerable, I took my phone out of my pocket to snap pics for reference when I went back to the office to design the mock-ups…and okay, maybe text a few to my best friend Lainey, because she really needed to witness this hellhole. Just as I was about to click into camera mode, a call came through, Jason’s number flashing across the screen.

Hello?

Ms. Reynolds. Are you at Divinity?

Yes. I sat down on the windowsill, tucked my phone between my ear and my shoulder, and grabbed my pen and notebook in my purse. It’s quite…something. That was the only non-offensive adjective I had readily available at the moment.

It is. He paused and I heard the sound of papers shuffling in the background. I expect you’ll have ample ideas for renovations.

Burn it all! I ached to say, but I really liked my job and Jason wasn’t the sort to joke around, even in his best mood. Of course. I’ll have designs ready for you by Monday. I picked at a thread on my skirt and crossed my legs.

I wanted to give you advance notice—

His words were lost on me, because at that moment, something black and furry with eight legs skittered across the top of my skirt. A scream that could be heard from the other side of the mountain range ripped out of me, and at once I was on my feet, swiping at my skirt, hopping, cussing, regretting my choice of incredibly high heels.

I stared at the ground, frantically trying to find the culprit. He could have been anywhere. I shuddered.

My ankles buckled as I jerked in an uncoordinated, spastic version of an Irish jig. If I had a most-hated list, spiders took the number two spot, second only to clowns. And maybe this resort.

My pulse pounded as I twisted my skirt around. And a second time, just to make sure. No sign of my eight-legged nemesis. I looked around the floor. Nothing. He was here somewhere, hiding. I could feel his beady gaze on me, plotting my untimely death.

And then my ringtone began to blast.

Crap.

I’d totally just had a freak-out while on the phone with Jason. So much for acting like a twenty-four-year-old professional. I made a quick search of the ground and the windowsill for my phone and came up empty. I listened for the ringtone, tracking the sound…which came from a distance. I swallowed hard and peeked my head outside and looked down. Nestled between foliage of a bush four feet below, my phone continued to ring. And then cut to voicemail. Followed by another call.

I swallowed hard. The longer I took to answer Jason’s call, the angrier he’d get, and I wasn’t exactly winning any points at the moment. The phone was well within reach. It would have to be because if I were to go around the building, that would take at least a few minutes, and I already needed to do some major butt-kissing after screaming in Jason’s ear. I scanned the sill for any sign of the creepy crawly, and once I was satisfied that he wasn’t anywhere near me, I leaned out the window.

In a totally unladylike fashion that would have my aunt raising her brow at me, I reached over the sill, legs seesawing to steady myself so I didn’t face-plant into a flower bed. My skirt rode up way past acceptable as my fingers grazed my phone.

I wiggled on the sill, and just as my hand grabbed my cell, I bumped the piece of firewood and the window hit the small of my back with a thud hard enough to leave me fighting for air. I struggled to backtrack into the room, and the sill dug into my stomach, the weight of the window pressing into the top of my butt.

This was it. The resort had a death wish for me.

My phone continued to ring, and I had no choice but to answer it. Mr. Covington. I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.

Are you okay? His tone dripped with more irritation than concern. I’d expect nothing less from him.

I looked behind me at the windowsill. My body was effectively pinned down, the pane too heavy to lift from this angle. He’d be less than sympathetic for my situation. In fact, I’d witnessed him fire vendors for less stupidity than this. Yes.

Absolutely no need to panic. None at all. Not with a Chewbacca-level-hairy spider on the loose. I bet it made Wookie noises before sinking its fangs into its victims.

I was going to tell you that I’m sending someone up there today—

Great. I knew I was being rude, interrupting him, but I needed to figure out how to get out of this situation before I turned into a human popsicle. Sounds wonderful. A note of hysteria laced my words.

Are you sure everything is okay?

Of course. I’m just enjoying this breathtaking view. As the blood rushes to my head.

It is quite beautiful. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Have a good day.

You, too. As I hung up, I twisted to assess the damage the best I could. Besides a most definite bruise forming on my lower back and a dirty smudge on my white shirt, nothing was broken or ripped. I sighed. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this?

As I saw it, I had three options:

a) pray that I suddenly developed telekinesis

b) somehow induce an adrenaline rush that would give me Hulk-like abilities

c) beg the Chewbacca spider to bite me so I could die a quick, painless death before one of Jason’s employees found me and reported back to him that I was completely incompetent

The first two options seemed a tad unattainable at the moment. The latter option erred on the side of melodramatic, even if this was a sucktastic situation. A tickle webbed across my calf, but I brushed away my paranoia. This would be totally fine. In the meantime, I’d just enjoy the beautiful scenery. While cursing this whole place.

After fighting a few more seconds and failing, I resigned myself to the fact that not even Crisco would get me out of this jam.

I did the only thing that seemed appropriate. Texted my best friend.

Zoey: SOS

Lainey: What’s up?

Zoey: I have a situation.

Lainey: …are you going for the suspense factor, cause it’s working.

I took a selfie and hit send.

Lainey: OMG. Are you…uh…stuck in a window?

Zoey: Yup.

Lainey: What the hell happened?

Zoey: This resort is alive and is actually trying to kill me. Tell my dad that I love him.

Lainey: Only if I get to keep the couch and your Chanel purse once you pass.

Zoey: You are ruthless.

Lainey: I can’t help myself. For real though, do you need me to come get you?

Zoey: No, one of Jason’s guys will be here later today. It’ll be embarrassing AF, but at least it’s not Jason, right?

Lainey: #truth Also, WTF is on your leg, dude?

My leg? I spread my two fingers over my screen, enlarging the picture I’d sent Lainey and froze at the sight of my hairy foe on my left calf.

No, no, no!

I thrashed and screamed in the sill, the window not budging even a millimeter. My scream echoed through the canyon, and if there was enough snow on the mountain, an avalanche would soon follow. Then, at least, I wouldn’t have to worry about the fact that Chewbacca was picking out china patterns for its new home. Sweat beaded on my brow as I continued to struggle.

Just as the initial sting of tears invaded my vision, the distant sound of gravel crunched from the direction of the parking lot. Thank the lord, my savior had arrived.

I could play this off as a total accident, right? Maybe bribe him not to tell Jason?

A tall, broad-chested figure limped down the path on a pair of crutches, and my stomach bottomed out.

Shit.

It looked just like…no…it couldn’t be.

My pulse pounded triple time in my temples as the crunch tap crunch tap crunch of gravel under his tread drew closer.

Zoey? a low, gruff voice asked.

No.

I’d recognize those wide shoulders anywhere. The backs of my legs knew them intimately.

Ryder. Freaking. Covington.

Okay, Chewbacca. Any time now. Sink those fangs into my leg and end this Valentine’s Day from hell already.

Ryder stopped a few feet from the window, looking like he’d seen the Ghost of Christmas Past coming to bite him in the ass.

Yup. It’s me, I said.

He quickly recovered, his lips curling into a smile I’d once found charming. You know, there’s this thing called a door. Some people use it to go in and out of buildings.

I flipped him off. Immature? Most definitely. I blamed it on the blood rushing to my head. And the fact the one-night stand I had with him was the reason for my current string of sexual encounters of the lackluster kind.

He’d ruined me, in the worst way, for all other men. I hated him.

He chuckled and the deep bass of his voice shook down my spine. Fair enough. I deserved that. What are you doing hanging out of the window?

I’m stuck. Understatement of the century.

I figured. He hesitated, looking unsure. Want help?

My first instinct was to blurt out go to hell! I didn’t need a goddamn thing from this person who single-handedly ruined my sex life. It was petty and I knew it, but a girl could only go so long on crappy sex before she started to feel a little stabby.

I instinctively reached to pull my skirt lower with one hand, and hit glass. It was up to the clothing malfunction gods at this point whether or not this day could get any worse.

You want to keep burning a hole through my head or do you want me to help you?

"Fine. But if you touch anywhere besides clothed areas I’m going to put my stiletto through your skull, capisce?" I managed to keep my voice authoritative and firm, nothing like the shakiness flowing through my body. That was how being around Ryder had made me feel from the first time we met—like I’d just come off an intense adrenaline high.

He put his hands up. Wouldn’t dream of it.

I sunk back down and rested my arms on the sill, waiting to be sprung from the window. I prided myself on being self-sufficient, never needing help from others, especially dirt-bag hookups. And yet here I was.

He moved closer until the soft fabric of his faded shirt brushed against my arm, and I bit back a gasp. His

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