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    On His List
    On His List
    On His List
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    On His List

    By Wendy Sparrow

    2/5

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    About this ebook

    "Where can I take you, Mr. Savoy?"

    That was how Remy Maison's day began, not the glamorous world of guarding underwear from her creepy landlord on laundry day, but taking her brother's place as driver for businessman Owen Savoy. And what was with this guy? Yeah, he's hot and all, with eyes like melted chocolate and a lean, sexy figure she'd love to explore, but Remy's never met anyone so rigid.

    Owen has a list for everything. He's planned the entire day down to the smallest detail. All Remy has to do is stick to the list, but she never follows the rules—there's no freaking way. So why is she spending all her time looking in the rearview mirror, hoping she'll make Owen's next list?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMacmillan Publishers
    Release dateNov 11, 2013
    ISBN9781622663736
    On His List

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    • 2/5
      Flirt is an accurate description of this book because that's about all you get. I gave this book 2 stars (an average of 1 star for stopping just as it was getting started and 3 because I did like where the story was going.)Remy is Owen's fill in driver for the day. Although she is the opposite of what his OCD personality is normally around, she brings out something something new in him...I received this book in exchange for an honest review for Netgalley.

    Book preview

    On His List - Wendy Sparrow

    He has a list. She has a mission.

    Where can I take you, Mr. Savoy?

    That was how Remy Maison’s day began, not the glamorous world of guarding underwear from her creepy landlord on laundry day, but taking her brother’s place as driver for businessman Owen Savoy. And what was with this guy? Yeah, he’s hot and all, with eyes like melted chocolate and a lean, sexy figure she’d love to explore, but Remy’s never met anyone so rigid.

    Owen has a list for everything. He’s planned the entire day down to the smallest detail. All Remy has to do is stick to the list, but she never follows the rules—there’s no freaking way. So why is she spending all her time looking in the rearview mirror, hoping she’ll make Owen’s next list?

    Table of Contents

    Dedication

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Acknowledgments

    About the Author

    Also by Wendy Sparrow...

    Cursed by Cupid

    Frosted

    Past My Defenses

    This Weakness for You

    Crazy Over You

    Discover more Entangled Select Contemporary titles…

    Her Stand-In Boyfriend

    Hidden Away

    Priya in Heels

    Second Chance Christmas

    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 © 2013 by Wendy Sparrow. 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.

    Previously released on Entangled’s Flirt imprint — November 2013

    Entangled Publishing, LLC

    2614 South Timberline Road

    Suite 109

    Fort Collins, CO 80525

    Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

    Select Contemporary is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

    Edited by Lewis Pollak

    Cover design by Heather Howland

    Cover art from iStock

    ISBN 978-1-62266-373-6

    Manufactured in the United States of America

    First Edition November 2013

    To those readers who love Owen because of his lists,

    not despite them.

    Chapter One

    All Remy had to do was to follow her brother’s instructions to the last detail and everything would be fine. Just get in the car and drive the big, black, hulking sedan where she was directed. Don’t touch the client’s stuff. Don’t talk too much. Drive the speed limit exactly. Treat every request like a commandment. And, seriously, don’t touch his stuff.

    Her upcoming passenger clearly had some issues if Denny had felt that needed to be driven into her gray matter. It wasn’t like she was all handsy about touching other people’s possessions for crying out loud.

    Hell, Denny, it’s not like I was going to go rabid and lick all his things. I’ll try to restrain myself, she’d said this morning. "And you know me, I can be quiet." Mostly at funerals and only then for short periods of time, but it did happen.

    Denny pleaded, You can’t be yourself. You have to be like me. It was the wrong thing to say to a younger sister, but they needed today’s job. Like, really needed it. The rent money, stashed in a coffee tin, had been stolen last week in a break-in that had also claimed yet another cheap DVD player among other things.

    She wouldn’t have put it past their lousy landlord to have stolen their stuff. She already suspected he’d taken some of her underwear when he’d replaced the faucet in their bathroom. The three-hundred-pound slob was probably wearing her Victoria’s Secret leopard-print thong while collecting the rent money.

    The jerk had given them until Friday to come up with the rent. Rent money they wouldn’t have if Denny called in sick with a migraine today. And even though none of this was her fault and it was her day off—and she deserved a day off—it always came back to the money.

    It sucked.

    So, she was here. At San Francisco International Airport. Following directions. Which she hated.

    And the guy had asked for Denny specifically. This was so going to blow up in their faces.

    She waited beside the black sedan, flipping the sign around and around while she examined all the possibilities heading her way. Owen Savoy was young, so he wasn’t that whale of a guy who kept glancing at her while digging through his pockets. He looked short of breath and far too old to be giving her those looks. Did she look like she needed a sugar daddy? If he popped a blue pill, she’d hide in the car until he went away.

    Then there was the woman who kept stomping around and snarling at people. Airports really brought out the worst in some freaks. She’d just yelled at a kid for bumping her Gucci purse. If it weren’t a knockoff, that purse could pay Remy’s and Denny’s rent for the month. She squinted. Hmm. It might be a knockoff, but since this was about the closest Remy had ever been to Gucci, she couldn’t be sure.

    For a second, Remy entertained the fantasy of running over, snatching the lady’s purse, and selling it to pay rent. Desperation did funny things to a person.

    The whale was still eyeing her up, down, and sideways. Maybe she should have worn something less sexy. Her cherry red, silk camisole hugged the definition of lingerie, and only the skirt she wore declared her

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