To the Limit [NOOK Book]

Overview


Engineer Kristen McKenna loves to make things go fast. So when NASCAR team owner Matthew Knight offers her a job, Kristen's competitive spirit shifts into overdrive. But she has to struggle to keep her mind on her blueprints and off her dangerously appealing boss.

Kristen's always been more comfortable in a lab than on a date—but suddenly both Matthew and Todd Peters, the supersexy team driver, are vying for her attention! Things heat up both on and off the track as Kristen ...

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To the Limit

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Overview


Engineer Kristen McKenna loves to make things go fast. So when NASCAR team owner Matthew Knight offers her a job, Kristen's competitive spirit shifts into overdrive. But she has to struggle to keep her mind on her blueprints and off her dangerously appealing boss.

Kristen's always been more comfortable in a lab than on a date—but suddenly both Matthew and Todd Peters, the supersexy team driver, are vying for her attention! Things heat up both on and off the track as Kristen finds herself torn between the two men. And as sparks begin to fly around the garage, she discovers that there's more to life than spoilers and engine specs. But can Kristen design a finish that gets both her team—and her heart—to Victory Lane?

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781460308066
  • Publisher: Harlequin
  • Publication date: 11/15/2012
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Edition description: Original
  • Pages: 384
  • Sales rank: 197,678
  • File size: 794 KB

Meet the Author


With over a million books in print, Pamela Britton likes to call herself the best known author nobody’s ever heard of. Of course, that’s begun to change thanks to a certain licensing agreement with that little racing organization known as NASCAR. But before the glitz and glamour of NASCAR, Pamela wrote books that were frequently voted the best of the best by The Detroit Free Press, Barnes & Noble (two years in a row) and RT BOOKclub Magazine.


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Read an Excerpt


THE HELICOPTER JUST about landed on her head.

One minute Kristen McKenna was jogging along a sunny beachside path, waves crashing in the distance on her left, the next—blam.

"What the—?"

She stopped cold. Actually, what she did was cover her face with her arms, the sand kicked up by the helicopter's rotors pelting her face like a new age treatment at a health spa. Not that she'd ever been to a spa—no time for that.

Whump-whump-whump. "Hey," she cried, wishing immediately that she hadn't opened her mouth. Her teeth suffered next. She moved her elbows to her side and tried to spit the grit out, wincing against the gnatlike stings. At least her glasses shielded her eyes, although at this rate she wouldn't be able to see out of them thanks to the sandblasting.

Gradually, the thing passed, enough so she could drop her arms. She watched in shock as the aircraft, one she thought at first might be military, sank to the ground like excrement from a bird. A Bell Jet-Ranger, she noted—3200 pounds heavy, 1487 pounds of load capacity. Maximum cruise speed of 213 kilometers.

What the hell was it doing?

Crashing? she thought. Some of her hair had come out of her ponytail, the mouse-blond strands flicking her sweaty forehead where they stuck for a moment before being ripped away.

Whump-whump-whump.

No. Not crashing, she realized, pushing her glasses up her nose. Its loss of altitude was too controlled for a crash. Plus, by now it was hover-ing fifty feet away, still off the ground but turned in her direction, the pilot in his insectoid glasses waving.

Definitely not a crash.

But then it backed up, its tail end spinning around so that she could see the side.

Knight Enterprises.

She straightened and absently rubbed her aching leg—it always hurt while she was jogging. Knight Enterprises.

Her employer. Actually, she worked for one of their small subsidiaries—a research-and-develop-ment facility that tried to figure out ways for Mr. Knight to make more money off his string of aircraft, usually by increasing fuel efficiency via aerodynamics.

Whump-whump-whump.

The helicopter dropped lower, the fronds of nearby palm trees cowering away. A half second later the pilot set down and cut the engines. That helped considerably. Slowly, the blades began to lose velocity and the turbine engine's whine became more pronounced. She watched the pilot turn and say something to a passenger. A second later the side door popped open and a man with burly shoul-ders and forearms the size of Thanksgiving turkey breasts dropped out, his black glasses reflecting the green lawn as he squatted beneath the blades. He had gray hair, oddly enough, that didn't move an inch.

"Are you okay?" Kristen called to the black-clad figure. "Do you need me to call nine-one-one?" she asked, patting the sides of her baggy blue jogging suit, the pants bulging on the left side.

Cell phone. Good. "Kristen McKenna?" he called out, straightening now that he was away from the rotor. He had an earring, she noticed, and an earpiece, too, a spoon-shaped mic hanging by his left cheek.

Kristen's arms dropped. "Are you Kristen McKenna?" he asked again, and when he drew a little nearer, she could see he was tall. And wide. Military looking, in a retired Navy SEAL sort of way. Short-sleeved black T-shirt and matching black pants. Scary looking, actually.

"Y-yes," she said. "That's me."

He pulled something from his pocket. A picture of her, she realized. Of her?

"Good," he said, after comparing her with the photo. "Come with me."

"Come with— What?" she asked, stepping back.

"Who are you?"

"Rob Sneed. Head of security for Mathew Knight." Mathew—

She blinked.

Mathew Knight?

The Mathew Knight? Her boss? The single rich-est man in the universe? She'd only ever seen him on the covers of magazines. Or on TV. Or in the newspaper—front page.

"Mathew Knight is looking for me?"

"Affirmative," he said, glancing at the picture again, and then his watch. Rolex Aviator. She'd coveted that watch since flight school.

"Well—" She blinked a few times, trying hard to focus her brain. "What about?"

"I'm afraid I'm not privy to that kind of infor-mation."

"Oh."

That made sense.

Wait a second. None of this made sense. "Mathew Knight wants to see me?" she asked again, the import of the words suddenly hitting her. Before he'd passed away, her dad had often said that for a genius, she could be awfully dense.

The big man in front of her nodded. "And he sent his helicopter for me?" "You weren't in the office." "No," she said. "I'm not." "We were told to find you."

And so they'd sent a helicopter after her? Kristen glanced down, noticing leaves and bits of debris stuck to the front of her jogging suit. "Look," she said, brushing at the stuff, tiny cumulus clouds of dust rising around her. "I appreciate the fact that Mr. Knight sent his helicopter for me, but I'm not so certain I should actually go with you." She glanced up, shooting him a nervous smile. "No offense. It's just that I have no idea if you are who you really say you are. I mean, obviously I'm pretty certain you're not some twisted sicko with a private helicopter, but still. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell Mr. Knight I'd be much more comfortable with a meeting at my office. His office, I mean."

He crossed his arms in front of him. "Negative." "Negative?" she echoed. "No time to meet you at the office." "But he has time to send his helicopter after me?"

She straightened suddenly. "Although, I do have to wonder how you found me."

"Our intel revealed you like to jog on your lunch hour."

"Intel?"

"Affirmative."

"I'm outta here."

A hand on her shoulder stopped her cold.

"Hey," she said.

"Ms. McKenna," he said, his grip tightening. "I think it would be best if you met with Mr. Knight right now."

"And I'm telling you, I don't think so."

"You don't really have a choice," he said, pulling her toward him.

All right. That did it. She kicked him. "Ouch," she instantly cried, drawing back and hopping around on her bad leg—never an easy thing to do. That had hurt. "What's your shin made of? Titanium?"

The human monolith didn't move. No. He stood there. Unflinching. Like one of those British soldiers outside of Buckingham palace.

"My, my, my," a masculine voice drawled.

"When they told me you were a handful, they weren't kidding, were they?"

Kristen turned.

The man with the slicked-back black hair and the dark suit was instantly recognizable: Mathew Knight. In the flesh.

"Oh, my, gosh."

MATHEW SAW HER MOUTH DROP open after she said

the words, eyes wide beneath her thick-framed black glasses, foot still held in her hands.

He doubted she realized it, but her face was covered with a fine sheen of grit.

"Why didn't you tell me he was in the helicopter?" she asked, glancing at Rob, leg slowly dropping.

"You didn't ask," his security manager said in his deep, deep voice.

Mathew smirked. Rob loved to play security spe-cialist to the hilt.

"You have something on your face," he said, wiping at his own cheeks in a way meant to suggest that she might want to wipe at hers.

She must not have heard him, or understood the silent gesture. "Look, Mr. Knight," she said. "While I'm sure the whole helicopter and special-agent thing might work well with some people, I'm afraid I'm still not comfortable with flying off with you. If you want to talk to me, I'd rather do it back at the office."

"Negative," Rob started to say, stepping forward. But Mathew slid in front of him, holding out a hand. "I really don't have time to meet with you at the office. Not anymore."

Ms. McKenna looked at Rob again. "Does he sit and stay, too?"

"You have something on your face," he said again, ignoring her question.

She lifted her own hand then, one swipe reveal-ing the full extent of the damage. "Holy—" She began to wipe at her cheeks furiously, using the edge of her jogging shirt. As the oversize jacket lifted he caught a glimpse of something, just a hint of flesh that was surprisingly tan and lithe, not the least bit lumpy, as her jogging suit had suggested.

"Rob," he said as she continued to wipe. "We can just do the meeting here." But her cleanup job hadn't helped much. She looked like a child who'd been playing with a box of chocolate.

Mathew gave up then, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a handkerchief. "You missed a spot," he said, handing her the handkerchief. Their fingers brushed.

He saw her chest cavity expand, and then still. She had an unusual face. Tiny chin. Thick lips. And—behind thick brown glasses—the world's largest eyes, he realized, suddenly meeting her gaze.

His hand dropped. "Uh, thanks," she said, her chest starting to move again. She used the cloth, handing it back to him when she was done—albeit with a sheepish grin.

"You want to walk down to the beach?" he asked.

She smoothed her hair off her face, her focus suddenly locked upon the ground. "I'm supposed to be in a meeting in a half hour."

"Rob can let them know you'll be late."

"It's a class of sixth-graders. They want to see the wind tunnel. I'd hate to keep them waiting."

"We'll keep it short," he said.

She nodded and stepped up next to him, her stride a little uneven. Must be the injured leg he'd heard about. Severely broken right after high school. Permanently misshapen, and a disability she'd overcome. He'd been filled in by Rob, who did background checks as a matter of routine.

Wonderful.

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Customer Reviews

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Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 17 Customer Reviews
  • Posted May 31, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    To The Limit by Pamela Britton NASCAR #4 Kristen McKenna lost th

    To The Limit by Pamela Britton
    NASCAR #4
    Kristen McKenna lost the things she loved most in her childhood after a tragic accident. Since then she left her old dreams behind and enjoys her engineering job at Knight Enterprises. Then one day her boss dropped from the sky and offered a job that was a dream come true, working in the field that didn’t always welcome women, racing.




    Mathew Knight needed to slow his life down. He had built his fortune from scratch and had become a bit of a workaholic, until his doctor ordered him to relax. What better way of relaxing than buying a racing team? He didn’t know diddly squat about NASCAR, but he found that he had an employee that could help him. Who knew she’d help him in so many ways beyond racing?




    The fourth book in this series is as exciting as the first three. Kristen never thought of herself as very attractive and yet it seems around the racetrack she’s a man magnet. And the race is on to see who will win her heart. I personally loved the epilogue, it brought in all the folks we met in the first three books. There are seven books in this series.
    **Mild language

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    Posted May 31, 2013

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  • Posted August 31, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    For all NASCAR fans

    If your a NASCAR fan & have been to any races or even only watched on TV & also a Romantic at heart, you will love Pamela Britton's books about the sport. They are all a fast read, but I enjoyed them. I am ordering more in her NASCAR series just because I love NASCAR.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 26, 2007

    To The Limit-another fantastic NASCAR Romance read!

    I love Pamela Britton¿s NASCAR romances!!!! The stories are not only witty, but laced with a plethora of emotions that never ceases to amaze me and TO THE LIMIT is no exception. Ms. Britton ability to pen an authentic NASCAR tale meshed with a charming romance can¿t be equaled. Don¿t miss TO THE LIMIT!!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 25, 2007

    Best yet!

    Okay.. if you are into Nascar and even if you're not you will get into this book!! I have read her other two titles before this and this one has to be the best one yet. I couldn't put it down! Good laugh out loud, fun read with a outcome that you will walk away liking.

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    lighthearted NASCAR romance

    After the initial shock, Kristen wonders why her as she is a nothing engineer in a minor R&D subsidiary looking into fuel efficiency based on improved aerodynamics. She refuses to accompany his security chief until Mathew steps out of the copter. Mathew persuades her to walk the beach with him promising her she will be back at her facility in time to show the wind tunnel to sixth graders. He tells her he needs her help as she combines her past as an open wheels driver with her knowledge of vehicles. He wants her on his newly purchased NASCAR racing team. Stunned she reluctantly agrees. --- Mathew knows from that first meeting on the beach when she showed her independence and he saw her big beautiful eyes behind the glasses he wanted her. To his chagrin and though used to getting what he desires, Mathew has competition for Kristen as the Team Knight driver Todd Peters also wants her. Kristen is stunned as hunks do not makes passes at girls who wear glasses especially female brains wearing oil smudges instead of mascara on their faces. --- This is a fun lighthearted NASCAR romance that will have the audience wondering who will get the victory flag, the owner or the driver as both are attracted to the engineer. The story line is fast-paced as expected with a racing car romance, but driven by the prime trio. Readers will root for Kristen to win the race as she carries Pamela Britton¿s tale from the starter¿s gun to the finish line. --- Harriet Klausner

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