Real Men Don't Quit: A Real Men Novel

Real Men Don't Quit: A Real Men Novel

by Coleen Kwan

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When famous author Luke Maguire decides to write his next novel in the small town of Burronga, Australia, he's sure he can ignore the fiery redhead next door. Not only has he just been burned from a high-profile breakup, but he's never been one to set down roots. No, he'll finish his novel and leave Burronga. And soon.
Tyler Jones just wants to run her business with her best friend, Ally, and take care of her three-year-old daughter, Chloe. She's never needed help from anyone, especially not a man, and the brooding, rugged writer next door can't tempt her. Not in the least.

Only Tyler and Luke can't stay away from each other. So they set rules. No staying overnight, no future plans, no sappy good-byes when Luke inevitably quits town. But the chemistry between them is too strong to contain in a rulebook. Are Luke and Tyler ready to risk their lives of independence for something more?

Book #1 Real Men Don't Break Hearts
Book #2 White Hot Holiday
Book #3 Real Men Don't Quit
Book #4 One Real Man

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781622660872
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Publication date: 04/08/2013
Series: Real Men
Sold by: Macmillan
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 241
Sales rank: 292,894
File size: 226 KB

About the Author

Coleen Kwan has been a bookworm all her life. At school English was her favorite subject, but for some reason she decided on a career in IT. After many years of programming, she wondered what else there was in life — and discovered writing. She loves writing contemporary romance and steampunk romance. Coleen lives in Sydney with her partner and two children. When she isn't writing she enjoys avoiding housework, eating chocolate and watching The Office.

Read an Excerpt

Real Men Don't Quit

A Real Men Novel

By Coleen Kwan, Kate Fall, Stacy Abrams

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Copyright © 2013 Coleen Kwan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62266-087-2


Luke Maguire stumbled into the kitchen, tired and disoriented after waking up in an unfamiliar house. Coffee — he needed coffee. Even instant would do. He shuffled to the sink to fill the kettle. Early morning sunshine streamed through the window, making him wince. It couldn't be more than six thirty.

Something small and pink flashed past the window outside, and he blinked. Was that a child? But whatever it was had already disappeared around the side of the house. He flicked off the tap and dashed to the big living room. Enormous glass sliding doors gave a sweeping view of the garden — and a small girl toddling determinedly across the lawn. Dressed in pink leopard-print pajamas with a toy rabbit clutched in one hand, she was definitely headed somewhere. Luke scanned the garden, and his body went cold.

The swimming pool. The kid was making straight for the damn swimming pool.

He leaped forward and grabbed the handle of the sliding door, but it didn't budge. He rattled the latch frantically, but it refused to unlock. He banged furiously on the glass. The kid stopped and stared at him, a finger in her mouth.

"Little girl, don't you move!"

Crap, why did he have to yell like that? He'd probably scare her off and make her run into the street before he could get ahold of her. But the kid didn't seem put off by a strange guy banging and shouting at her. Solemn-faced, she popped the finger out of her mouth and pointed at the swimming pool as if to say, Oh, yeah?

"Goddamn it."

He dashed out the living room to the front door, wrestled it open, and hurtled outside. Cold stone tiles met his bare feet, then dewy grass as he charged around the side of the house. The girl was still there, standing beneath a maple tree, as if waiting for him. She was quite a moppet with her fiery red curls and cheeky blue eyes, and seemed about three years old.

Luke forced himself to slow down to a saunter. "Hi there. How ya doing? I'm Luke."

She mumbled something and hugged her stuffed toy closer. "Mr. Piggy."

Huh? He didn't look that seedy, did he? Slowly he hunkered down in front of her. "Who's Mr. Piggy?"

She huffed in exasperation and waggled the forlorn toy rabbit in his face. "He is. Mr. Piggy wants to swim." Once more, she pointed firmly at the swimming pool.

He glanced back at the pool in the far corner of the backyard. Thank God it was surrounded by solid fence, but this little cricket seemed to have determination in spades.

"Well, now. It's a bit early for a swim, don't you think? Maybe later."

The girl puffed out her cheeks, big blue eyes scanning him with suspicion. He couldn't blame her. Grownups were always saying "maybe later" when they really meant "no."

He edged a little closer. "I promise you can come for a swim later."

She pursed her small mouth. "Really?"

Her winsome expression had him grinning. This poppet was going to be quite the heartbreaker when she grew up.

"Really." He nodded.

She crooked her little finger at him. "Pinkie promise?"

"Uh ... sure." How could he resist such charm? He twined his pinkie around hers and pressed very gently. "Pinkie promise."

That seemed to reassure her. Solemnly, she squeezed back.

"And what's your name?" he asked.

"Chloe," she answered after a moment's hesitation.

"Okay, Chloe," he said. "Now that I've sworn a solemn vow, let's see about getting you home." Standing, he kept hold of her hand, and Little Miss Moppet, apparently reassured with the sacred pinkie promise, curled her fingers around his, her baby digits making him feel like a giant.

They moved off across the garden. Last night, when he'd arrived just after midnight, he'd parked his Range Rover and neglected to shut the gates to the driveway. That must be how the girl had gotten in, because the rest of the property was fenced off. But where had she come from?

"Ow." As they walked over rough gravel, Chloe stopped, wincing as she rubbed her bare foot against her calf.

He stooped to pick her up, and she didn't murmur a protest. Instead, she curled one arm around his neck, thrusting her stuffed rabbit into his cheek. Mr. Piggy was threadbare and rather smelly, but Luke wasn't bothered. It had been a while since he'd minded a youngster. Not that he missed it or anything; God, no. He'd done enough babysitting of his numerous nephews and nieces to last him a lifetime. And after the Jennifer episode, he was even more wary of anything to do with kids. No, soon as he got this Chloe home where she belonged, that would be the end of his involvement, pinkie promise notwithstanding.

He walked out onto the footpath and stopped to peer up and down the road. He wasn't familiar with this neighborhood. They were on the outskirts of Burronga, a midsize country town in the Southern Highlands, halfway between Sydney and Canberra. It was about an hour's drive from his hometown, Goulburn, where he'd been until yesterday, when the growing mental pressure had suddenly reached a crushing point and he'd thrown his things into his car and fled. Like a thief in the night. Like his own dad.

Hell, that comparison soured his stomach. He wasn't anything like his dad. As soon as this moppet was taken care of, he'd call one of his sisters and tell her where he was.

"Which way is home, Chloe?" he asked. The blocks along the winding road were large allotments, and most of the houses were old-fashioned cottages sitting in rambling, country-style gardens. In contrast, the place he'd just spent the night in was severely modern, its sharp architectural lines matched by the geometrically landscaped grounds.

Little Miss Moppet sucked her finger, then pointed confidently to the left. "That way!"

"Okay then." He hitched her more firmly on his hip.

"Chloe!" A scream rang out, scattering the birds in a nearby tree.

Luke looked up. A woman was running along the footpath toward them, barefoot, her flaming, long hair streaming behind like a red banner, her eyes blazing ice, her face white, her red lips drawn back in a snarl. She looked like an avenging angel about to smite him. His heart skipped a beat and involuntarily he took a few steps back, his arms tightening around the little girl.

The avenging angel kept on coming. Semiclothed in purple lace briefs, cut high, and a matching camisole that barely contained her breasts, she was all voluptuous curves, endless long legs, and red-gold hair. Luke sucked in a breath. Whoa, this was one sexy angel. Could she really be this girl's mother?

The woman reached out and grabbed Chloe from him. "Where have you been?"

Her voice vibrated with panic and disbelief, and as she brushed his arm, he felt the tremble in her body.

Unperturbed, Chloe patted the woman's cheek. "Hi, Mumma."

"Uh, she's perfectly fine —" Luke began, then stopped as the woman whirled on him.

"Who the devil are you?" Fierce cobalt eyes crackled like thunderbolts. "And what the hell are you doing with my daughter?"

Luke held up his hands. "Hey, I was just —"

"What? You were just what? About to lure her into your car?" Her hair seemed to vibrate with hostility as she thrust her chin toward him. "Is that what you do? Prowl around the neighborhood waiting for unsuspecting kiddies? Well, if you come anywhere near here again I'm calling the cops."

What the hell? Hot indignation hammered the inside of his skull. "Lady, I don't know what you're on, but you should be thanking me. If it weren't for me, something horrible could have happened to your kid."

Her eyes widened, the angry crackle in them altering as a pink flush stole across her cheeks. "Horrible?"

He drew in a breath, about to explain, when Chloe interrupted. "Mumma, I gotta do a wee-wee."

The woman ran a shaky hand over her daughter's mop of curls. "Oh, sure, baby," she said in a completely different tone. "Let's get home right now." Without sparing Luke another glance, she hurried away.

Scowling, Luke stared after her, his blood pressure still thumping, hands fisted on his hips. The woman's long, smooth legs flashed as she motored away, the purple lace panties accentuating the rounded curves of her firm butt. He couldn't help staring after her. There wasn't an ounce of flirtation in her walk — quite the opposite, in fact — but she had him riveted.

Damn his stupid male hormones.

Luke blew out the air in his lungs. Some way to start his morning. His heart sank as he saw the woman disappearing down the driveway right next to his. A stout wooden fence divided the two properties, and her house was hidden behind a tangle of overgrown shrubs. Shoot. These were his neighbors: Little Miss Moppet and Crazy Lady. Crazy Sexy Lady. Crazy Sexy Rude-as-hell Lady. Who did she think she was, accusing him of being some kind of abductor? She was the one at fault. She was the one who'd let her daughter wander out. She was the one who should be trembling in her boots, not him.

Dammit, he wasn't going to let her get away with it. What kind of stupid rumors would she spread if he let her? Rumors could so quickly spiral out of control. Just look how all the innuendos over his messy breakup with Jennifer had landed in those trashy gossip magazines.

Admittedly, he had to wear some of the blame for the acrimonious split. He should have noticed the hints she'd dropped, so when she started buying bridal magazines and asking his opinion of private schools, it wouldn't have come as such a shock to realize what she wanted of him. What he couldn't give to her or to any woman, as much as it hurt him to shatter her dreams.

Since the breakup, he'd been much more circumspect. After eight months, the clacking tongues were finally moving on to fresh meat; he couldn't afford to feed them another morsel. He intended staying in Elliot's house for a while, and he didn't need more hassles when he already had enough troubles.

He tugged at the edges of his T-shirt and marched after his next-door neighbor.

* * *

Tyler Jones rushed into her house, arms wrapped around her daughter. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Her heart was going a million miles an hour, and her body was covered in a cold sweat.

"Sweetie?" She smoothed back Chloe's curls, her hand still shaking. "What happened out there? How" — she gulped, then forced her voice to steady — "how did you end up with that man?"

Chloe leaned her head into Tyler's shoulder and plucked at Mr. Piggy's ears. The solid weight of her small body sent a reassuring surge through Tyler's that nothing else could. It seemed an age since she'd woken, meandered into Chloe's room, and found the bed empty. As she'd called and searched fruitlessly through the house and yard, a heart-stopping chill had enveloped her, sending her into a panic. She'd run blindly out onto the street, fear and anxiety gnawing at her, only to spot her three-year-old in the arms of a stranger.

"Mr. Piggy wants a swim."


Chloe sighed at her mother's dimness and repeated more firmly, "Mr. Piggy wants a swim."

"Oh ... oh, no ..." Realization dawned on Tyler, sending her stomach plummeting. "Chloe, you didn't go next door to swim, did you?" Her little girl hung her head and stuck out her bottom lip. "Oh, Chloe, no. Not on your own!"

Tyler's knees wobbled. It was all her fault. All summer long, as one heat wave after another had rolled over the Southern Highlands, the unused pool next door had taunted her. It didn't seem fair that she and Chloe had to swelter in their creaking old timber house while the sparkling, icy cold pool next door went to waste. She didn't know the owner of the swanky new house very well. It was just a weekender for him. Occasionally a bunch of people would descend on the place, and there'd be music and chatter for a few days, but most of the time it sat there vacant.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, the owner, Elliot Elliston, had dropped by and offered for her to use the pool when the house wasn't occupied. When he'd departed, and the heat had lingered even though it was officially autumn, Tyler and Chloe had gone next door to cool off. They'd had a fantastic time. Chloe loved the water, and she was a lot less cranky when the heat wasn't tormenting her. It had become a habit of theirs, spending a half hour or so in the afternoon playing in the deliciously cool water. But those good times could so easily have turned to tragedy.

"Darling, promise me you'll never try to go swimming without me, okay?"

"'Kay." Chloe hung her head, her lower lip trembling as she sensed her mother's distress.

Tyler bit off the rest of the lecture. No way would she bawl out her daughter. She was too young to understand the danger. No, this was all her fault.

"Didn't you say you needed to use the bathroom?" Tyler asked. Chloe nodded and slithered out of her grasp to the ground. "Do you want any help?"

"No! I'm a big girl now." Tyler wrapped her arms around herself and watched as her daughter hopped off.

Someone rapped on the door behind her, causing her to jump as her frayed nerves screeched. She yanked the door open and found herself staring at Chloe's would-be abductor. Damn.

The guy didn't look too friendly. "We need to talk," he said through clamped teeth.

Now that she wasn't so freaked out by Chloe's disappearance, the man made more of an impact on her. He looked a few years older than her. Tall and athletic, he had long arms and legs stretching out from his gray T-shirt and navy boxer shorts, and his black hair was all mussed up. He wasn't Prince Charming handsome, but his features were striking, distinctive. A spark of attraction tingled down her spine; she'd never been into princes anyway ... Then she met his eyes, and the expression in them made her suck in a breath. Hard and black like coal, they bored into her with barely concealed anger.

"Uh, sure," she said. "I'm Tyler Jones, by the way."

"Luke Maguire," he snapped. He didn't look like he wanted to shake hands. He glanced past her. "Is your daughter around?"

"No, she's gone to the bathroom."

With a curt nod, he took a couple of steps into the house, and she found herself faltering back. Damn, it wasn't like her to be so meek, but she seemed powerless to resist.

"Good. She shouldn't hear what I've got to say to you."

Tyler's stomach tightened at his grim tone. "Look, I'm sorry for overreacting back then. I didn't realize Elliot was back. We won't bother you anymore."

He frowned. "Bother me?"

"Elliot gave us permission to use the pool when he's absent, but we'll stay away now that he's here with guests."

"I'm by myself, using Elliot's house for a while. He's my agent." Luke sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I've got a lot of work to finish while I'm here, and the last thing I need is you spreading goddamn lies about me to all the neighbors. I wasn't trying to abduct your little girl." He gestured with his hands, impassioned. "I was goddamn saving her. If I hadn't been there, she might have gotten past the pool fence and fallen into the goddamn water."

Her heart was beating fast again, thudding in her eardrums as her imagination went into overdrive. She swallowed and nodded, but Luke Maguire didn't seem to notice, too caught up in berating her.

"What were you doing while she was wandering outside by herself?" He cast a contemptuous gaze around the place. The living room was messier than usual, she knew, which meant to some people it looked like a bombsite. "Maybe it took you a while to even realize she was missing."

She gasped. "How — how dare you?" she spluttered. "How dare you insinuate I'm too careless to look after my daughter?"

He blinked, and his expression became rueful. "Well, you insinuated I was a child abductor, so we're quits now."

She blew out a breath. "I guess you have a point."

Their eyes connected, and for a moment there was breathy silence. Jeez, just like a corny romantic movie, she thought.

"But still, you should be taking better care of your daughter," Luke continued. "If you let her wander around like that, sooner or later something is going to happen to her. If nothing else, social services will come knocking on your door."

His words knocked the air from her lungs. She felt the blood draining from her face. "You're not ..." She swallowed some bile. "You're not going to report me, are you?"


Excerpted from Real Men Don't Quit by Coleen Kwan, Kate Fall, Stacy Abrams. Copyright © 2013 Coleen Kwan. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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