I really, really enjoyed Weekend Wife! Leah, the leading lady, works in New York and is trying to get her big break in theater. In the meantime, she works at a diner where she is required to sing. This could be cheesy but Leah has a really vibrant and refreshing personality that it is fun for her. She has been seeing Grant show up at the diner every Wednesday, where he orders pancakes but proceeds to eat them as if there is no happiness left on the earth. She flirts with him because she definitely wouldn’t mind a little fling but hasn’t had much response. But when Grant unexpectedly leaves a $100 tip, she rushes out after him into the New York traffic where she gets clipped by a taxi and her ankle gets sprained.
Cue to the rescue Grant! He has had his eye on Leah but because he has no desire to be part of a committed relationship, he has never pursued her. However, their intimate car ride to her apartment leads to a very eventful afternoon of sex that both enjoy thoroughly. Leah isn’t expecting anything else nor is Grant.
Until he gets a document from his father that says he will lose his job in the company’s massive real estate empire if he doesn’t prove that he is settling down. This edict is super puzzling for Grant because to say his father and mother have an unhealthy relationship is putting it mildly! Grant is angry until a friend suggests he hire an actor to pose as his girlfriend. With Leah still on his mind, Grant proposes a weekend in the Hamptons. They set rules because Leah has no intention of being paid for sex. And along the way, they maybe start to see something deeper and more real in each other.
Leah is the star of this story for me. I just really liked her sunny, hopeful personality. She is a hard worker, she is kind to her friends, she definitely enjoys good sex and she has good chemistry with Grant. Perhaps some people may see her as too peppy but for me her personality was just right. She isn’t afraid to stand up for herself, or Grant, when his parents get on his case (and these two are a piece of work!). Erin McCarthy continues to show her skill at developing interesting women characters.
Grant is a nice guy. He’s not into commitment, he is super rich, and to Leah, he is sexy. While I wouldn’t say he is too far out of the “billionaire hero” box, he comes to care quickly for Leah. Insta-love? Maybe! But their connection is established very early on in the story so I didn’t doubt his feelings.
Weekend Wife has some great humor in it too, another thing I often associate with Erin McCarthy. This book is just a good, fun contemporary romance.
Weekend Wife is available now and is also currently free on Kindle Unlimited.
“The perfect, irresistible romantic comedy!”
—Erin Nicholas, New York Times bestselling author
Weekend Wife, an all-new sassy and quirky stand-alone rom com from New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy, is available now!
Billionaire businessman in need of a fake fiancée…
It should be the easiest job ever for an out-of-work actress, right?
All I have to do is pose as Grant Caldwell (the Third)’s fiancé for a fancy-pants weekend in the Hamptons. Easy. Wear designer clothing and sip champagne? Don’t mind if I do. Flirting with Grant? It’s so delicious I should be paying him.
Nothing can go wrong as long as I can just keep my hands off of him.
But that’s the hard part. And I do mean hard.
Because Grant is sexy.
And surprisingly sweet, a real rarity in his pretentious family.
Oops. I’m not as good at faking it as I thought. Or maybe they call this method acting. Because it’s getting harder to figure out where my character ends and I begin…
It just might be the role of a lifetime.
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I looked at Leah. “Sorry about that. I am not filthy rich.” I actually was, but I felt compelled to be modest. “I’m just rich.”
“Oh, yeah? Well… I think everyone’s definition of filthy is different.”
And just like that, Leah took an awkward moment and made it flirtatious. Her voice was low, breathy.
Green light. That’s what that was. And I was hitting the gas and plowing into the intersection.
I eyed her. “What do you know about filthy?”
I had leaned closer to her, turned slightly, my thigh brushing against the fabric of her skirt. Her lips were a ripe raspberry color and she had a divot in the base of her chin that made me want to kiss it. Her chest rose and fell beneath her tight sweater with a quick rhythm, like she was turned on. Intrigued. Contemplating her move. She opened her mouth, gaze sweeping over my lips, and for a second I thought she was going to move close enough that I could kiss her.
Instead, she held my gaze, all seduction and skill, while her hand shot out and tucked the cash into the breast pocket of my suit. She grinned and turned back to the front, smug.
“Nice acting skills,” I told her dryly. Leah, starring in the role of femme fatale, and I’d fallen for it.
“Thanks. I’m working on eye contact.”
I was working on blue balls.
She was cute and clever. Fuck.
I knew a couple of women who wanted exactly what I did—no-strings-attached sex. No one got offended if months went by without contact and it was just as likely they would text me as I would text them. I didn’t get… ensnared. Leah could ensnare me. It might be time to send out a sexual SOS. I needed zero contact with Leah after today. She wasn’t good for my concentration. But I did admire both her boldness and her talent.
“That was savage,” I told her. “I love it.”
“I need a distraction from the fact that my ankle seems to have a heartbeat and half the ice has melted so now my sock is damp.”
Right. Her busted ankle. That was the relevant issue at hand, not my dick.
“You really should elevate your ankle. Turn a little.”
Surprisingly, she obeyed me. I dug my way through all that fabric and hauled her calf and ankle up onto my lap. I also tucked the hundred bucks back into her skirt pocket. She didn’t seem to notice and just cleared her throat.
Leah bit her bottom lip. “This is weird,” she said. “I don’t think you want my damp sock on your pants.”
There were so many things I wanted to say. All of them inappropriate as fuck.
What I settled for was, “Don’t assume what I want.”
USA Today and New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over seventy-five novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for high-heeled boots, martinis, and Frank Sinatra. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband (he built her a bar, so it’s all good!) and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.
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