Kimber Chin

MonieG has reviewed Selling Forever!
Woo hoo!
She’s one of my fave readers
and I do think of her when I’m writing my stories
(as I do many of my readers - if you see a familiar name…)
so I am VERY pleased she liked it.

Here’s a snippet…

“Once again Chin brings us another great romance story without all the sappiness you usually find in romance stories. Cara is a strong independent woman with a heart of gold and she certainly knows the way to a mans heart. Richard has reason to be cautious but is still a warm and caring a teddy bear of a man inside the harsh exterior. This quick novella is a bargain at just $2 for the e-book or $1.60 for the Kindle version and I recommend it for anyone who loves a good romance.”

You can read more here
http://www.readingwithmonie.com/2009/08/review-selling-forever-by-kimber-chin.html

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I wrote Selling Forever, my July 2009 release, especially for my dear, wonderful mom.
It is a lighter, shorter read, perfect for those lazy summer months!

Here’s an excerpt…

“Want another beer?” Cara partially opened the fridge door, concealing her collection of week old takeout.

“No thanks, two’s my limit.” He held up his empty bottle. “I’m driving.”

“Interesting.” Cara grinned at the outright lie. “The taxi driver letting you drive tonight?”

“One of the perks.” His face reddened. “How come you know so much about me?”

Cara wasn’t about to answer that loaded question. “How come there was a message from my very excited father on my machine?”

His head bent a little more over that cupcake he was mauling. “How should I know?”

“Something about a delivery of baby back ribs ring any bells?” He was thoughtful to send her dad, a complete stranger to him, the gift. He certainly didn’t deserve the stingy label smacked on him by the press. But then, she already knew that. One of the things that first…

“Sorry, Quasimodo.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Came from the account of one Richard Thompson,” Cara prodded. “Meat lover extraordinaire.”

“Damn identity thieves.”

Cara had to laugh. The goof. She concentrated on her cupcake, suppressing the wild impulse to hug him. Him. A complete stranger.

And do other things, much less innocent. The few photos Cara found on the internet, horrid candid shots, hadn’t prepared her for Richard’s subtle good looks, his long, lean body. He wasn’t movie star handsome, but somehow she found him more appealing, more virile, and more male.

Combine that with his personality. Oh, sugar. The media had it all wrong there, too. Richard Thompson wasn’t sullen and silent, but witty and engaging.

“Shit.”

Maybe not so witty. She glanced up to find him folded behind the island, that butt of his sticking in the air.

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As April is a 5 Wednesday month, I thought I’d share an excerpt from Selling Forever, my July release, today.
Selling Forever is a lighter (and shorter) romance written especially for my dear mom.

“She doesn’t want a check.”

Where was this conversation going? “What does she want, then?”

“Well.” Again with the glasses. “They are one handyman short.”

“And?” How was that his problem? Try the yellow pages.

“She would like you to be that handyman.”

“What?” Richard rose out of his seat. “Is she serious?”

Him, a handyman? He wrote computer programs, for Pete’s sake. “Where’d she get the impression that I’m a handyman? I’m not handy.”

“That’s what I told her.”

He frowned, insulted at Shirley’s ready agreement. He wasn’t completely inept. Richard plucked at the grease stain on his white linen shirt.

“Cara said it didn’t matter. You can bring a contractor as long as you show up.”

He sat back down, considering the situation. “She wants to auction me off as an unhandy handyman?” Part of him was horrified, another part flattered. If it wasn’t his handyman skills then why him? Richard glanced at his reflection in the laptop monitor and smoothed his brown hair down. Or tried to. It quickly returned to its natural state of sticking straight out. As persistent as a pop up ad. He wasn’t bad looking, if a woman could overlook the hair.

“An unhandy handyman,” he repeated.

“Seems that way.” Shirley’s lips twitched suspiciously.

“Insane.” His protest was weaker.

“She must be.”

Richard glared at his assistant. Shirley’s expression was too innocent.

“Why me?” He was starting to like the idea. Richard Thompson, handyman; wearing a hard hat, one of those tool belts, driving a white cube van, and fixing leaking pipes for hot women. Maybe, he glanced at Cara’s photo, for a certain hard working real estate agent.

“Why you? Why not you?” There was a long, suffering sigh. “You’re a billionaire, Richard, remember?”

He had almost forgotten. A billionaire. His fantasy world collapsed with that word. It always came back to that. While before, he had worn dozens of labels—businessman, boss, friend, son, even lover—now there was only one, billionaire. A big smile full of white teeth mocked him for thinking otherwise.

“Tell her no.”

“I already did.”

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