Of Course It's You

OF COURSE IT’S YOU AN ALWAYS YOU NOVEL BOOK 3 ALI PARKER STAR KEY PRESS CONTENTS Find Ali Parker Description Introduction Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Epilogue Insider Group About the Author Copyright FIND ALI PARKER www.aliparkerbooks.com DESCRIPTION The boss’s daughter. Wanting her wasn’t in the cards. When we’re thrown together at work, resisting temptation goes out the window. So does my shot at the job I’ve had my eye on for years. Why? Because her dad gives her the role. Talk about unqualified. She’s everything I want in bed and everything I don’t want at the office. And she gets to call all the shots. The question is, how much can I put up with? She should have been off limits. I always want what I can’t have. This time? I’m in it to win. Introduction Well hey there! Thank you so much for grabbing one of my books. I sure hope you love it. I’d hate to part ways once you’re done though. How about we stay in touch? We have a great family of readers on my Insiders Newsletter Group that you just can’t miss out on. We do exclusive giveaways, facebook parties, Christmas cards, event invites and sneak previews for this amazing group. And as a HUGE thank you for joining, you’ll receive a free book on me! Join the fam Here! CHAPTER 1 NOLAN “The housing crisis in Portland is next up after these ads, so don’t go anywhere, folks. We’ve got real estate experts here to talk all things financing, interest rates, and market availability.” Grunting, I reached for the radio dial and turned the volume down to zero. “All anyone wants to do is talk,” I grumbled, coming to a stop at a red light and glancing to my left. A row of three-story townhomes stood proudly on the side of the road, their porch lights illuminating robin egg blue front doors. My company, or rather my employer’s company, had built them three summers ago when people were still rapidly buying up starter homes for their young families. Those buyers had been the lucky ones. Now nothing was available on the market unless you were willing to pay, and to pay handsomely. The light turned green and I followed traffic to my turnoff, where paved road gave way to gravel, which gave way to dirt. My truck rumbled over uneven terrain as I drove deeper onto the property of our current construction site and came to a stop next to all the other guys’ trucks. Toolboxes spilled out of diamond-plated tailgates and coffee thermoses sat on truck roofs or hoods as they all stood around talking, hardhats in hand, reflective vests draped over their shoulders. I hopped out of my truck. My boots scuffed in the dirt and kicked up dust. Garrett, one of the most experienced guys on site, saw me coming and nodded in my direction. “Morning, Nolan.” “Boys.” I tipped my chin. “Is Bill around?” All their heads turned toward the office trailer parked half a football field away, positioned right under one of the site lights to deter riffraff from trying to break in during the night. “How’s he doing this morning?” I asked. Garrett shook his head and his lips pressed into a thin, wary line. “Not so good, man. Not so good. We tried to tell him we could handle things today, but you know how the boss is.” Did I ever. Another one of our guys, Alan Kimber, who went by Kimber, rubbed the back of his neck and pushed off his truck. “Maybe you’ll have better luck than the rest of us.” He put his hardhat on over his unwashed greasy blond hair, shrugged into his vest, and waved for the others to join him. “Let’s get cracking, you lazy bastards. I want to be home in time for dinner. My girl’s cooking up a pot roast that I’m not going to miss out on. You hear?” “Your girl taking applications for your replacement?” one of the guys joked. “Maybe someone who showers regularly and doesn’t have a fucked-up nose?” Kimber laughed and honked his own nose. “She loves my busted nose. Broke it in a bar fight defending her honor. And you know what I get as a reward?” The guys who trailed after Kimber all shrugged. One of them said something foul that earned him a swat upside the head from Kimber, the biggest man on site. “Pot roast,” Kimber bellowed, “get your head out of the gutter, Johnson!” Chuckling, I followed them a ways onto the site before breaking off toward the office trailer. It was a modest thing, about a decade old with company stickers plastered on the side and a new set of wooden steps that went up to the front door. I’d built them about six months ago after the old ones began rotting away from the rainy season and poor sealing. Climbing the steps, I paused to survey the site, doing a onceover of the equipment and my crew as they picked up their toolbelts and ducked into unit eight to begin framing for the