Dream Maker by Kristen Ashley (Dream Team #1)
English | 2020 | Romance | ePUB | 3.6 MB
Two broken hearts find love and healing in each other in this sexy contemporary romance spin-off from the New York Times bestselling author of the Rock Chick and Dream Man series.
Evan “Evie” Gardiner has spent her whole life being the responsible one in her family, but enough is enough. It’s time to pursue her own dreams. Evie’s finally going to finish that engineering degree she’s been working toward. But first she needs to come up with the money to pay for tuition. Working as a dancer at Smithie’s club seems like the perfect solution to her problems . . . until her family lands in yet another scrape and comes to Evie for help. Only, this time, her family’s recklessness is risking more than her dreams-it’s endangering her life.
Daniel “Mag” Magnusson knows a thing or two about desperation and disappointment, but no one notices that his good looks and quick wit hide the painful memories that haunt him. When Evie’s family puts her in danger, Mag insists on offering Evie his protection. He has the skills to guard Evie’s life, but as they grow closer, Mag realizes he’ll need to come face-to-face with his demons to prove himself as the man who will protect her heart.
What am I doing?” I asked my reflection as I leaned away from my bathroom mirror and stared at myself.
I was holding a mascara wand in one hand, the tube in the other, and I’d just finished putting on some powder, a little blush, minimal highlights on my cheekbones, under-eye-shadow base over my lids up to my brows to even the skin tone and now mascara.
I didn’t wear makeup unless I was stripping, first, because I had two pounds of makeup on when I danced and that not only felt ick, I figured I was already over my quota, and second, I just didn’t wear makeup.
Okay, lip gloss that was actually lip treatment disguised as lip gloss, of which I had varying colors, but only because this was Denver, Denver was arid, and if I didn’t my lips would be chapped all the time.
So might as well throw a wave at something girlie while I was keeping my skin healthy.
Now, I was going on a date with Lottie’s commando friend and suddenly I was a traditionalist.
Or, probably more accurate, I was going on a blind date with Lottie’s commando friend after my brother freaked me out about some text I’d be getting where I’d have to “do right,” whatever that meant.
And since Mick Gardiner hadn’t done right since he was around the age of two, his version of doing right did not bode well for me.
I’d pushed the wand into the tube and was about to grab a wipe and take all the makeup off, add some moisturizer (again: Denver) and maybe some powder so I wasn’t all shiny, and that was it, when someone knocked on my door.
I looked down at my phone on the basin, touching it to activate the screen.
“Hell,” I whispered, tossed the tube in the basket that contained my measly collection of cosmetics, grabbed my lip treatment that was a shade called “buff” and dashed out of the bathroom.
I slicked on the gloss as I shoved my feet in chili-red Rothy’s points, grabbed my blazer that was on the bed and rushed out of my bedroom.
I tossed the blazer on the kitchen counter, the lip gloss on the blazer, at the same time I hesitated because I realized I hadn’t put on any jewelry and considered running back to my room in order to do that really quick.
This was when another knock sounded at the door (apparently Daniel Magnusson was not patient).
This possibility led my mind to race to the hope that, regardless of his apparent impatience, Mag was like Mo.