Wednesday, September 16, 2015

*** Review For Head Over Heels for the Boss Donovan Brothers 3 by Susan Meier ***


Title: Head Over Heels for the Boss
Series: Donovan Brothers, #3
Author: Susan Meier
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 211 pages
Release Date: September 14, 2015

This book was a great read. It had the funny, sweet and romantic. 
This romance is pretty tame compared to what i normally read.
But well worth the read.It was a true romance, I loved it. The main  
two characters Devon and Isabelle were simply amazing. how they 
 tried so had to stay away from each other, only to be draw back to 
one another. But Devon dose not do relationships, at least that is
 what he tells Isabelle. As the continue to see one another they grow
 closer together. Only one problem will Devon every really love her 
or even know if he is in love. Now to find out you need to get this book.
 It is one sweet read.I hope you enjoy this book as much as I did.
 If you do like this book, please consider leaving a review. The Authors 
really like it when you do, they value your opinions too.

Fantasizing about the boss is one thing. 
Falling in love with him is quite another…
Isabelle Cooper’s in big, big trouble. Her flower shop? Well, it
 was just bought by the man she’s had a crush on forever.
 Her new boss, Devon Donovan, is a tall glass of 
melt-in-your-mouth hotness. The problem? 
 Devon is definitely not interested in love. No ifs, ands, or 
buds about it.

Devon knows Isabelle has been crushing on him since 
college, but buying her business shouldn’t be a problem. 
Not only is she his employee, but as the eldest Donovan 
brother, he’s too busy protecting the family fortune 
for romance. But tomboy “Izzy” is all grown up now. 
And he’s finding it impossible to resist her, no matter how 
hard he tries…

~*~*~ The Donovan Brothers series ~*~*~

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Chapter One
“We sold the flower shop to the Donovans.”
“You what?” Isabelle Cooper gaped at her parents in absolute horror. “Why?”
“To fund our retirement.” Her tall, slim, nearly bald father caught her hand. “Sweetie, you’ve proven you can run the place on your own. But then the three of us would have to share the monthly income. This way, your mom and I cash out and you still have a job. A job with a salary, not just a percentage of unstable profits.” He smiled proudly. “I took care of all of us.”
She combed her fingers through her long, straight red hair, pushing it off her face. “All right. Okay. I think I get it.” From a fiscal standpoint, her dad really had taken care of all of them by selling their family business to Donovan, Inc. He’d gotten enough money for him and her mom to retire in the south so they could escape Harmony Hills, Pennsylvania’s cold, cold winters as they’d always dreamed, and a salary for Isabelle as manager of the town’s flower shop.
It made perfect sense, and was not only responsible but also sweet that he’d done his manly duties for the family—until you factored in that she’d always had a crush on Devon Donovan, oldest of the Donovan brothers. The man who managed the reportedly one billion dollars the family had inherited from their maternal grandfather.
The man who was her new boss.
And the problem wasn’t just that she had a crush on him. She’d very stupidly walked up to him right after he’d returned from Afghanistan and asked if he’d like to go with her to her prom. He’d looked at her as if she was crazy, said no, and walked away.
Now she knew how stupid that had been. He was a grown man who wouldn’t want to go to a school dance. He’d also just returned from a war. But from the time Isabelle was fourteen, she’d thought he was the handsomest of the Donovan brothers. Tall, dark, brooding. Seeing him in his uniform, looking so brave, she’d lost her breath and her crush had formed. But four years later, watching the way he rarely spoke to anyone and kept to himself, she could see he was a man who held secrets. A man who needed her love. Steeped in her infatuation, and a high school girl with a huge crush and very little experience, she’d asked him to her prom and made a complete fool of herself.
When you factored that in, her working for Devon now seemed like the first level of Hell.
“He told us that once we talked to you, we were to have you go to his house—”
Isabelle’s pretty blonde-haired mom tapped her dad’s forearm to stop him. “Not house.” She sighed. “Well, it is his house. But he’s got a great big office in the back. It’s not like he’s a spider saying ‘come into my web.’”
Her face flamed. If her mother only knew. She might have taken a few side roads in her crush on the oldest Donovan brother, but when he’d permanently returned to town last year—still tall, still dark, still brooding—her crush had returned full force. She’d gladly enter any web of Devon’s. But he’d never ask. And now she had to work with him.
She rose from the sofa. “Maybe I’ll just get another job.”
Her dad looked appalled. “You can’t! You were part of the deal. We sold them on taking over the florist shop because they wouldn’t have to do a thing, touch a thing. Buds and Blossoms virtually runs itself.”
“It doesn’t run itself, Dad. I run it.”
“Exactly my point.” Her dad beamed. “Go see Devon. He’s expecting you.”
She left her parents’ big craftsman-style house through the bright white kitchen with new hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, and a pale green, white and shiny silver backsplash, suddenly realizing they’d probably remodeled the kitchen in anticipation of selling the house—which meant they’d had this planned for a while. Stepping out into the sunny June morning, she walked across the perfectly paved parking spaces in front of the garage where she’d left her Hyundai, an ordinary, but surprisingly comfortable, car.
She waited until she was behind the locked door to curse. Working with Devon Donovan? That had disaster written all over it. The possibly awful situations that could arise were too numerous to contemplate. However, two or three effortlessly sprang to mind. Like getting breathless, drooling, and tripping over her own feet if he got too close.
He could mention that she’d asked him to her prom. He could laugh about it. Or, worse, apologize.
Still, there was always the possibility that nothing would happen. At least not anything anybody would see. He worked in the huge mansion-like house that he’d had built for “the family” a few months after they’d inherited all that money from their grandfather. He didn’t really hang around town, so if she did drool over him, it would be in private. And why would he remember that she’d asked him to her prom? Seriously. She’d been a kid. He’d just come back from a war. He’d undoubtedly had more important things on his mind. It was more likely that he’d forgotten the whole darned thing. Nine chances out of ten, he’d bought the flower shop as a favor to her parents, and his decision had nothing to do with Isabelle. He probably intended to tell her that she could manage the blasted thing the way she always had, and her salary would be based on how much money the business brought in—a way to give her incentive to keep it productive.
So she wouldn’t have much contact with him. She’d see him, maybe, once a quarter to review her books. She did not have to worry about ogling him, drooling when he was around, sighing with longing in his presence, or being embarrassed that he’d turned down her stupid, stupid, stupid prom invitation.
She would be fine.
Confident, she drove up to “the house.” Two stories, with white siding and black shutters, an attic with dormers that probably also had living space, a four-car garage and wide front porch, the thing sprawled out over a half acre.
Staring at it in awe, she got out of her car.
She supposed that if she suddenly became a billionaire, she’d build a grand house, too. And it was wonderful that though the entire Donovan family didn’t live in “the house,” they all had stayed in small town Harmony Hills. Devon’s brother Finn and his wife Ellie were beloved local business owners. Middle brother Cade and his wife Piper had run the grocery store together at one time. Everybody knew and loved the Donovans.
Isabelle just loved one Donovan a little too much.
Still, she would be fine.
She strode up the brick walk with her head high. This was not a big deal. She’d be working for him daily, but only seeing him once every few months for debriefing sessions on the business she ran. No. Big. Deal.
Two hits of the knocker brought the sound of footfalls on the other side of the door. As it opened, she braced herself to be face-to-face with gorgeous Devon. But his mom, LuAnn, stood before her.
“Izzy, sweetie.” Short, blonde, once dowdy LuAnn was now a beautiful woman. She folded Isabelle in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Donovan.”
“How are your parents?”
“Fine.” She winced. “Better than fine. Apparently they’re wonderful since they can now live their dream of moving south because they’ve sold the flower shop to you guys.”
LuAnn laughed. “They have always wanted to move to Myrtle Beach and play golf all winter. I’m glad we could help. And you’ll like working for us. We’re nice people.”
Indeed they were nice. Unfortunately, one of them was particularly fine.
“My parents told me Devon would be explaining the particulars of our situation to me this morning.”
LuAnn’s smile got even brighter. “Great! He’s in the office. Right this way.”
They walked through an open floor plan downstairs with gray walls trimmed in white wood and nearly black hardwood floors. The sitting area had a white leather sofa and black-and-white print club chairs. White upholstered chairs surrounded a shiny black dining room table. Accent pillows, floral arrangements of yummy yellow roses, fat fuchsia peonies, orange blossoms and irises, and artwork, provided splashes of color.
“Holy cow. This house is amazing.”
LuAnn peeked at Isabelle. “Devon had a decorator come in.”
“Well, she earned her keep.”
“I know!”
Even as LuAnn spoke, Bob Bailey came running down the back stairway. When he saw Isabelle, he stopped.
“Hey, Izzy.” His gaze ambled over to LuAnn’s.
LuAnn said, “You know Bob.”
Though Harmony Hills had about five thousand residents, it was hard not to know the guy who’d been chief of the volunteer fire company for the past twenty years.
Still, Isabelle didn’t even blink at the odd introduction. “Hey, Bob. Nice to see you.”
“You, too.” He smiled at LuAnn. “I’ll call you this afternoon about dinner.”
LuAnn nodded and Bob left. Isabelle didn’t ask LuAnn about Bob. She didn’t have to. A man racing down the backstairs of a woman’s house, who told her he would call about dinner that night, had probably slept over. Given that LuAnn had been in a miserable marriage for decades and Chief Bob had lost his wife a few years back, Isabelle figured they were both due a little happiness.
LuAnn motioned down a hall, and they entered an area of the house where a couple of smaller rooms were walled off. The theme of black hardwood floors, white trim, and gray walls followed them back so far they almost reached a pair of French doors through which Isabelle could see a sparkling blue pool, an outdoor kitchen, and enough patio furniture to be its own department in Ikea.
“Here we are.”
LuAnn pointed into a room with a desk in front of one wall and a sofa and chair beside another. Isabelle dutifully followed her as she walked toward it. After a tiny hall, LuAnn knocked on a closed door.
Devon said, “Come in.”
His deep, masculine voice ran over Isabelle like warm water, and her heart tumbled. Dear God. She was going to be in the same room with the man she’d had a crush on almost half of her life, discussing her future, hoping he didn’t remember her dumb-ass prom invitation. Should she faint? Was she allowed to faint? Could fainting actually get her out of this?
LuAnn opened Devon’s office door, and Isabelle blinked. For all the stark black and white throughout the house, Devon had chosen warm mahogany for his office. Though the trim was still white, the walls were a soothing tan. A brown leather chair sat behind the desk. A soft beige sofa and matching chair took up the right corner.
Looking out the wall of window in the back of the room, at the sparkling pool and the ancillary patio department of Ikea, stood Devon. His dark hair had been cut in a no-nonsense businessman’s style. A neat and tidy white shirt slid over broad shoulders and across muscles of a chiseled back. Gray pants caressed a perfect behind.
When he turned, his intense, almost black eyes caught her gaze.
All the air disappeared from the room.
LuAnn brightly said, “Izzy’s parents told her you wanted to see her.”
“Yes, I do. Come in, Izzy.”
Izzy. Yeesh. She felt five again. Here she was with the most handsome, sexy man she’d ever met and he called her Izzy? She’d had the nickname since she’d ridden her tricycle up and down the Maple Street sidewalk in front of her parents’ craftsman. When someone called her Izzy, even she saw herself toothless with freckles and red pigtails.
Oh. Sigh. Would she ever be allowed to grow up in this town?
LuAnn grabbed the door handle and began backing out of the room. “I’ll just let you two alone now.”
When the door clicked shut, Isabelle turned to Devon. His probing black eyes. His full lips. His broad torso that made sport of the shirt trying to hide all those glorious muscles.
“So, Izzy…”
“Actually, I prefer to be called Belle.”
His eyebrows rose. His serious eyes clouded with confusion. “Belle?”
Sure. Why not? Considering that she’d had about a second and a half to choose a new name, Belle wasn’t a bad choice. “I’m not five or ten or even eighteen anymore.”
His gaze took a quick trip along her sunny yellow T-shirt and threadbare jeans, making her breath stutter.
“No, I guess you’re not.”
That out-and-out froze her lungs.

Devon pointed to the seat in front of his desk, indicating Izzy…Belle…should sit, as he fell to his seat, not quite sure what was happening. He’d bought Buds and Blossoms as a favor to the Coopers. Newly rich, the Donovan family was finally able to do things for their friends, and Brooke Cooper had stood by his mom in the first year after she’d left his dad. Now here he was sitting across from a woman who sort of looked like their teenage daughter Izzy, except more mature. And she wanted to be called Belle.
Hunting for her college transcripts, he fumbled with the papers on his desk as he surreptitiously raised his gaze and took in the way her breasts filled out her T-shirt with the big sunflower on the front, and her butt made ordinary jeans look…fantastic. She definitely wasn’t eighteen anymore, as she’d said. Or twenty, even. She’d graduated from college and gotten her MBA.
Where had the time gone?
Finding her transcripts, he cleared his throat and caught her gaze again. Her gorgeous green eyes surprised him. How had he never before noticed they were so green? He shook off the thought. It didn’t matter. She was his employee now, and she hadn’t really changed all that much, just grown up. She’d always be tomboy Izzy to him. He set the transcripts on the desk in front of him and folded his hands on top of them.
“You have a master’s degree in business.”
“I do run a business,” she countered, as if he were an idiot not to realize that, and that was the typical Izzy he remembered. Straightforward. Practical. “I’d gone to school knowing that the flower shop would be my life. So I prepared to do a good job managing it.”
“You over prepared.” He smiled. “Which is why I don’t want you running the flower shop.”
Her emerald eyes bugged out. “You’re firing me?”
“I’m promoting you.”
“To what? There’s nowhere else to go in a flower shop. You either make the bouquets, run the register, deliver the flowers, or manage the bloody thing.”
“Exactly. You’re too educated to run the register. Rumor has it that driving…” He chose his words carefully. “Isn’t one of your strong points, so you won’t be able to deliver flowers once my insurance company sees your records. And you’ve already proven yourself as manager. It’s time for you to move on.”
She gaped at him. “This is Harmony Hills. There’s not a lot of room for upward mobility. You bloom where you’re planted.”
He leaned back in his seat. “Agreed. And Donovan, Inc. is where you’re going to be planted. You have a master’s degree. I am coordinating a fortune. I’m smart and experienced, and even educated, but you’re the one with the MBA. And someday I’d like to slow down. Work a day or two a week while someone else ‘minds the store.’”
Her eyes got even bigger, if that were possible. “You’re hiring me to run your family’s fortune?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He sat forward again, confused about why she was reacting so badly to what was, essentially, a lucrative offer. “I’m hiring you to assist me. At some point, I’ll be bringing other people into the mix. I’m not saying one person is going to take over for me. What I’d really like to do is build a team. I would manage the team and you would be one of the members. Probably my go-to girl because, as my first hire, you’d be the most experienced. Are you on board?”
“I’m the first?”
“You’re the first.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where would I work?”
“There’s an office right outside this door.”
She frowned. “Then where will the other people work?”
“I have four offices back here, but someday I might need a full office building in town.”
“Okay. What’s my salary?”
“About four times what you made at Buds and Blossoms.”
“Holy cats.”
He leaned back, glad this conversation had finally found its footing. “This is a totally different situation than the flower shop. You’ll work with me to choose from the projects or investments available for the family’s money. Directly with me.”
She leaned back, too. “Oh.”
He fought the odd thought that she was trying to get away from him. “You don’t want to work with me?”
Her smile suddenly looked fake. “No. No. It’s fine.”
But he had the distinct impression it wasn’t fine. She seemed to be the opposite of what he’d expected. He’d thought she’d jump for joy. Yet, here she was hesitant.
“So our first order of business is to replace you and your parents at the flower shop. You don’t happen to have résumés on file?”
She sniffed a laugh. “In Harmony Hills?”
His decision to keep the business of investing his family’s money in Harmony Hills was fraught with problems like a very small employee pool. Still, he wasn’t sorry he’d done it. The family was together, without their abusive dad, who had moved to Arizona. And finally the Donovans had a chance to experience real family life. He wouldn’t trade that for ease of finding employees.
“No. I suppose you don’t have résumés.”
She carefully met his gaze again. “I can write a ‘help wanted’ ad and have it in tomorrow’s paper.”
“Okay. Go out to the desk and do that now.”
She rose. “No time right now. I’ll have to do it in between flower arrangements. My parents might have already mentally moved to South Carolina, but I have a wedding on Saturday and two funerals.”
“Oh.” He rose, too. “There’s no one else at the flower shop?”
“It really only took my mom and dad and me to run it.”
“So you can’t start working for me until you’ve replaced all of your staff?”
“Don’t be hasty.” Her eyes narrowed as if she were thinking. “My neighbors, the Benjamin Brats?” She gave the nickname the town had bestowed on the children of her neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Carl Benjamin, because, well, their kids were brats. “They owe me a favor. I can use them to help out. They can take orders and run the register while I make the bouquets and deliver them.”
“You’d leave them in charge of the shop?”
“Get them in the right mood and they’re surprisingly responsible.”
“And who’s going to help you with the bouquets?”
She gave him a strange look. “No one.”
“You’re going to do a wedding and two funerals alone?”
“I’ve been doing it since grad school.” She laughed and the sound filled him with warmth. Filled the whole office with warmth. The real Izzy was back. “Actually, I can do all this and still give you a few hours tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday morning.”
She caught his gaze. Smiled.
“What time do you want me to start?”
“How early do you need to be here to be able to get a few hours of training in and still get all of Buds and Blossoms’ work done?”
She mentally calculated her answer, her eyes narrowing again.
“Let’s say seven.”
“Okay, seven it is.” In the same way he ended all business meetings, he extended his hand to shake hers. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”
She took his hand. Her smooth pink palm met his callused hand. She was incredibly soft, prettier than he remembered, and an adult now. Not cute little Izzy who worked in her parents’ flower shop. But Belle. A mature woman with an MBA who was his first employee.
He intended to make this work. That probably meant getting her to admit whatever it was that made her so standoffish with him. But he could do that. He was an expert with people. He just had to find the right time. Maybe get her alone someplace more comfortable than his office so they could have a more relaxed, more personal conversation.
That’s what he’d do. Get her alone somewhere relaxed. Like maybe a booth at Petie’s Pub, where it was dark and quiet. Surely that would loosen her up.

~*~*~ Susan Meier ~*~*~

A one-time legal secretary and director of a charitable 
foundation, Susan Meier found her own personal 'bliss' 
when she became a full-time novelist. She's visited ski 
lodges and candy factories for "research" and works in 
her pajamas. But the real joy of her job is creating stories
 about women for women. In her sixty published novels, 
she's tackled issues like infertility, losing a child and
 becoming widowed. Her favorite stories are those 
that inspire laughter through tears. Susan lives in western
 Pennsylvania with her own hero, their son and two 
 fabulous felines, Sophia Maria Lolita Conchita 
Chiquita Banana and Fluffy. 

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