Book Spotlight/ What if It’s Love?

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What If It’s Love? by Alix Nichols

Series: Bistro La Boheme

Publication Date: June 2014

No. of Pages: 244 Pages

Genre: Contemporary Romance, New Adult

~Synopsis~

Can a Paris bistro heal a broken heart?

Charm, wit and poignancy abound in this gripping contemporary romance.

Introverted heiress Lena moves to Paris to nurse old wounds reopened by her neglectful boyfriend. Enter Rob, a charismatic and handsome Frenchman who waits tables at La Bohème — a café on Lena’s street — and has big dreams.

He makes her laugh and forget her insecurities. She stirs something infinitely tender in his soul. Before they know it, they’ve fallen for each other, even though both had good reasons to fight the budding love.

But their passionate romance is cut short when she discovers his dirty secret…

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~Watch the Trailer~

~Excerpt~

“Can we be friends again?” he asked.
“So you think we were friends?”
He nodded.
She arched her brows. “And you think you can be friends with me and Amanda at the same time?”
“Why not?”
“Can be a health hazard, what with all the sparks that fly.”
He grinned. “Never mind Amanda’s taunts. She’s like that with everyone.”

“Nefarious?”

“Spiky. But she’s a sweetheart, once you’ve grown on her.”

“I wonder how I could ever accomplish that.” Lena smiled, a speck of sadness still lingering in her eyes.

He stared, mesmerized. He could never get enough of that smile.

A cloud hiding the moon must have shifted, because suddenly silver light poured over the terrace turning it into an enchanted place.

Lena gasped. “What happened to your hand?”

He followed her gaze and saw that the knuckles of his right hand were smeared with blood. Shit. He could bet there’d been none after he punched the wall.

He covered the abrasions with his other hand. “It’s nothing.”

She grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand closer to her face. “Have you disinfected them?”

Rob didn’t register her question. He looked at her delicate fingers holding up his hand. Then at her face. She was squinting at his hand, trying to assess the seriousness of his cuts. Her gesture was devoid of any erotic subtext. And yet the contact of her skin scorched him, just like when he held her hand at L’Espace. It stirred an impulse inside him that was both feverishly raw and infinitely gentle. It made his heart bump against his ribcage as if demanding to get out.

He gazed at her hands holding his. The urge to run his fingertips over her skin, from her nails down to her wrist and then inside her palm was too overwhelming to resist. . .

“So have you?” she asked.

Rob blinked and looked up. “Have I what?”

“Disinfected.”

“It’s just a graze.”

“I have a disinfectant in my suitcase,” she said. “I can fetch it–“

And release my hand? “Stay,” he blurted out. Shit. “I mean, I also brought some, so you don’t need to bother. I’ll disinfect as soon as I get back to my room. I promise.”

“OK,” she said softly and let go of him.