Exclusive Excerpt: Work In Progress - Vilma Iris | Lifestyle Blogger

I never thought my first kiss would be on my wedding day.

But here I stand, clutching a bouquet of pale pink roses behind the doors of a Las Vegas chapel, and at the end of the aisle is the absolute last man I imagined would be waiting for me.

Thomas Bane.

Bestselling author. Notorious bad boy. Savagely handsome, dark as sin, chiseled as stone. And somehow, my soon-to-be husband.

Marry him, and I’ll land my dream job. Save him, and I’ll walk away with everything I’ve ever wanted. All I have to do is remember it’s all for show. None of it is real, no matter how real it feels.

But first, I have to survive the kiss.

And with lips like his, I don’t stand a chance.

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Exclusive Excerpt: Work In Progress
By Staci Hart

Exclusive Excerpt: Work In Progress

“Notorious bad boy Thomas Bane. Model dating, super rich, devil-may-care, super famous, fist wielding, public drunken and indecent exposure Thomas Bane, fantasy author with a rap sheet the length of my arm.”

If you’re looking for a sexy, fun and fast-paced rom com, look no further than Staci Hart’s WORK IN PROGRESS.  This is Amelia and Thomas’ story, and although it’s not out until the 24th,  I’m thrilled to share a sneak peek at the delight that awaits!


Amelia packed her notebook and pen away and stood. I thought her body language indicated she was going to step toward the door, so I walked around the coffee table to follow her. But she stopped, reaching into another pocket of her bag with so much concentration, it seemed whatever she was looking for required the full capacity of her brain.

By the time I stopped myself, it was almost too late. I was in her space again, close enough to see the individual hairs on her head and the burst of silver in her irises when she looked up at me.

For a moment, we were caught. Awareness hummed across my skin, in the air between us as she looked up at me, and I looked down at her. I could kiss her. The way her eyes flicked to my lips and hung there, I thought she’d let me.

I almost did. If one more second had passed before my door opened, I would have.

Gus, wait!”

Those two words were the only warning I had, and they weren’t nearly enough to do a goddamn thing to stop what happened next.

My seventy-pound golden retriever thundered into the room, his nails clacking noisily on the hardwood, his face open and happy, tongue lolling as he bounded toward us. There was no time to shift us, to move Amelia out of the way. All I could do was brace for impact.

Gus jumped like the ill-mannered bastard he was, his paws aiming for my chest. But I was facing Amelia.

Which meant he had to go through her.

He slammed into us, his wiggling, hairy body sandwiching Amelia between us, and down we went. I wrapped my arms around her, shifting to land us on the couch with a squeal from Amelia and an oof out of me.

Gus just slobbered.

He jumped on the couch, standing all over us so he could get to my face, which he licked with panting, humid gusto. Amelia was still squealing, squealing and giggling, curled into my chest with her arms over her face.

“Goddammit, Gus!” I batted him away, and he met the challenge by trying to get at me around my arms. “Down! Get the fuck down!”

His tail wagged harder.

Augustus!” I said, his full name a command he didn’t ignore.

Not that he was afraid of me. He jumped off the couch like we’d bored him, wagging his tail as he trotted back to the entryway where he’d left his tennis balls. He picked them both up, one lodged so deep in his throat, it was a wonder he never choked.

“Oh my God, Mr. Bane, I am so sorry,” my dog walker, Amanda, panted. “He can’t even handle coming home to you.”

I barely heard her. I was too busy cataloging the feel of Amelia lying on top of me. She unwrapped her head from her arms, eyeing Gus warily as he dropped the outermost ball in his mouth and spent several seconds attempting to pick it up again in his overfull mouth.

Then she looked down at me, her eyes wide and mouth in a little O as her face lit fire.

I swear, the color made her eyes look like slivers of sea glass.

I was smirking. I didn’t care.

She put her small hands on my chest and pushed herself to sit, sliding off my lap with regrettable swiftness. “I…I am so…I’m sorry. I—”

“No, it’s me who’s sorry,” I said as she stood, and I followed, keeping distance between us. For all of our sakes.

“No, it’s me who’s sorry,” Amanda insisted. “I tried to hang on to him, but I think even if I had, he’d have dragged me all the way into the room with him.”

I strode into the entryway where Gus had lain down, still fooling with his tennis balls. “You’re a bad fucking boy, Augustus.”

He looked up at me with his big, dopey eyes and barked. The tennis balls fell out of his mouth, and he was on his feet in a flash, gathering them up again.

I shook my head, turning to Amelia. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”

She shook her head back, her eyes darting to Amanda. “I-I’m okay. Thanks. I’m sorry I…well, that I was just…you know, when we fell, and I…”

I chuckled. “Are you kidding? That was the highlight of my day. I should cook Gus a steak dinner.”

At that, my curiosity was almost slaked. She blushed hard enough to teeter, steadying herself on the arm of the couch. And then, to my surprise, she laughed.

I watched her with interest, smiling uncertaintly as I tried to figure out what was so funny. Her little face scrunched up, and one hand pressed her lips, the other her stomach.

“I mean, I’m funny, but I don’t know if I’m that funny.”

Another burst of giggling broke out before she blew out a breath, her face flushed for a new reason—humor. When she caught her breath, she met my eyes and said, “Thomas Bane, you are ridiculous.”

My brows flicked together. “Ridiculous good or ridiculous bad?”

But she shook her head, turning for the door. “Just absolutely ridiculous.”

And inexplicably, I was a hundred percent certain that was a good thing.

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