Courage To Believe
- Author: Leanne Karella
- Publisher: Titan Press (2006)
- Genre: Contemporary Romance
- Setting: New York City
Back Cover Blurb
When a mix-up occurs and Mary O’Toole is hired as nanny to sexy-as-sin CEO Jacob Stone’s daughter instead of his executive assistant, she’s too desperate to pass up the income. But after one look into the little girl’s sad eyes, and she sees the pain behind Jacob’s eyes, there’s no way she can turn her back on this hurting family.
Jacob has to contend with the most demanding, stubborn, sweetest nanny he’s ever hired. She waltzes into their home and turns everything upside down. Including his emotions. How will he manage when she leaves? Because, eventually, like every other nanny he’s ever hired, she’ll get fed up with him and quit. He has a bad habit of pushing too hard and being too stubborn. It’s just his way.
Purchase
Titan Press (dead link)
ISBN 1-59836-334-4
What the critics are saying
"Leanne Karella did a wonderful job creating a story with a unique heroine and a not so perfect hero: a perfect couple in the end."
5 Angels - Fallen Angel Reviews
"...had a depth and complexity that made you feel as if you had a direct connection with them and truly cared about their outcome."
Joyfully Reviewed
“Mr. Stone. Ms. O’Toole is here for the interview.”
“Thank you.” His voice was low. Smooth. She’d seen his picture in Forbes, but he was even more handsome in person with a full head of smartly combed back black hair with a sprinkling of gray at the temples. When he looked up from whatever he’d been reading on his desk, Mary was met by startling, deep blue eyes. “Come in. I have another meeting in fifteen minutes.”
Mary stepped into the office and casually wiped her right palm on her slacks to make sure it wasn’t moist when she shook his hand.
“Have a seat.”
Obediently, she lowered herself onto the edge of the comfortable leather chair opposite his desk. Darn it. She should have shaken his hand. Where had all her training gone? She debated standing back up and extending her hand over the wide desk, but that would look utterly stupid at this point. Her heart thudded in her throat and a trickle of sweat slid down between her breasts.
“Mrs. Brocton has informed me you are perfect for the position, but, considering the importance of this job, I needed to meet you in person.”
He was back to reading from papers on his desk as he spoke. He wore a white dress shirt, and my goodness, his shoulders filled it nicely. He sure didn’t look like most of the businessmen she’d met in the last month. There wasn’t a hint of the two martini lunches she’d noticed on others. His face was chiseled, and, from what she could see of his body behind the desk, the rest of him was the same. Shirt collar open at the throat and no tie in sight. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing lean, tanned forearms. Even his hands looked sexy. But not as sexy as that chest. She’d lay odds, what with the tan and all, that he didn’t get that kind of physique from any gym.
“Ms. O’Toole?”
She raised her gaze from his chest. Uh oh. She’d missed whatever he said. Her face heated. She hadn’t been thinking of his body that way, she reassured herself. She never thought of a man’s body that way. Not for a very long time, anyway. And certainly not Jacob Stone, one of the richest men in America.
Clearing her throat, she tried to remember what he’d said, but her brain had turned the consistency of oatmeal. Cooked, soggy oatmeal. Maybe it was the pollution. Growing up in Hicksville, Vermont, she hadn’t inhaled so much car exhaust in her life, and she’d been breathing unsanitary New York air for almost a month.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stone, what did you say?”
His even black brows furrowed slightly, but his voice remained steadily unaffected as he said, “I asked if you could start today.”
“I...uh...” Today? This kind of thing didn’t happen. Certainly not to her. “Yes?” her voice squeaked.
“You don’t know?”
“I mean yes, sir. I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. Of course I can start today.” Like she’d throw away the chance of a job with the illustrious Jacob Stone!
“Thank God,” she thought she heard him mutter, but couldn’t be sure. He shuffled the papers on his desk. “Mrs. Brocton will call for the car.” He paused and looked up with those bluer than blue eyes. “Do you have your own transportation, Ms. O’Toole?”
She shook her head.
“That’s fine. My driver will be at your disposal most of the time, for any errands you might need to run.” He put the papers in a manila file folder. She glimpsed her name on the top one, but it wasn’t her resume. “As I was saying, Mrs. Brocton will call for the car. Angelina arrives home from school sharply at three-thirty. One hour of play time, then one hour of homework. Be sure to spend extra time on the math, she seems to be struggling lately.”
He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and drew out a blue tie. Silk, if she wasn’t mistaken. The exact shade as his eyes. He flipped up the collar of his shirt, did up the buttons and began tying the tie.
“Dinner on the table at six. I try to make it home in time to eat with her, but if I don’t, don’t wait on me. Her bedtime is eight-thirty.”
He stood up and rolled down his shirtsleeves as he walked to a door on the paneled wall. It was a closet and he drew out a black jacket that matched the black slacks he wore. As he put it on, fabric drew tight against his wide, sculpted chest, and his pants hung from narrow hips. Mary had never seen a living work of art before. Until now.
“Tomorrow morning over breakfast we’ll go over the rest of the particulars.”
“Breakfast?” Mary blurted out. Since when did executive secretaries have breakfast with their bosses?
He gave a brisk nod as he checked his cuffs. “I leave the house at exactly seven forty-five. Breakfast is at seven. Angelina leaves for school at eight-thirty, so you can see that she’s dressed and has a lunch packed after I leave.”
Mary’s right temple began to throb. Who was Angelina and why was Mary getting her dressed for school? And packing her lunch?
Mr. Stone came back toward the desk and picked up his briefcase from the floor, set it on the desk and opened it. Finally he looked up, probably wondering why she was sitting there like a lump. Confusion swamped her and she didn’t know what to do, what to say. She’d been given a job by Jacob Stone, but it obviously wasn’t as his executive assistant.
