5 star Review – Dirty Deeds by Megan Erickson

5 star Review – Dirty Deeds by Megan Erickson

dirtydeedsblogtourbanner

 

 

 

 

 

 

DirtyDeeds HiRes jpg (002)

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis 1

 

Alex Dawn is saying no to men. No to bad relationships, disappointments, and smooth-talkers. Focusing on her family and her job at Payton and Sons Automotive keeps her mind occupied and her heart content. She doesn’t really miss a man’s touch, until one night, one shows up with the body of a god and a voice from her dirtiest dreams.

L.M. Spencer is only in Tory, Maryland, to scope out the town as a possible site for one of his company’s hotels. The British businessman didn’t expect his car to break down or to find the hottest little American he’s ever seen holding a tire iron, piercing him with bright blue eyes.

They agree to one hot night, one dirty deed to burn out the chemistry between them. But from their first kiss, Alex can’t stop saying yes to this man. And when Spencer’s company threatens everything she cares about, they must make the choice to stand together or apart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt 1

 

Alex Dawn growled as she tightened the hubcap with the tire iron and thought, for the fifth time, that she should have gone home an hour ago.

But that meant going home to an empty house, which she didn’t think she’d hate but had learned to her supreme horror that she did, in fact, hate living alone.

She’d never lived alone, not ever. First she’d lived with her mom and sister, Ivy, and then . . . him . . . and then again with Ivy and her daughter, Violet. She liked living with Ivy and V, but now they had moved in with Ivy’s boyfriend, so Alex was alone. In that apartment that used to be filled with Ivy’s clothes and Violet’s coloring books.

Alex banged the tool on the rubber of the tire. The thunk was comforting. She did it again, and again, wondering why she was doing this, but couldn’t deny it felt good as hell to get some anger out. Because that’s all she seemed to have lately. Anger. Anger at him and at her life and anger at the fact that she couldn’t seem to be fucking happy.

It was a shitty cycle.

Therapy was helping, a little, but it dredged up old wounds she’d tried to bury for so long. She hated being unhappy. But the more she dwelled on it, the less happy seemed to be within reach. She did like her job, though, so that was something. Working at Payton and Sons Automotive as a mechanic was more home than that empty apartment.

Her phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID before tucking her phone in between her ear and shoulder. “Hey.”

“What’re you doing?” Ivy’s voice was soothing.

“Working,” Alex answered.

There was a pause, as if Ivy was checking the time. “You’re still at work.”

“Tell her to go the fuck home!” yelled a male voice in the background. Brent Payton. Ivy’s boyfriend and Alex’s coworker.

“Stop swearing,” Ivy muttered, but there was no heat to her words.

Alex smiled. “Tell him I’d stop working if I didn’t have to pick up his slack.”

There was a rustle on the phone and then Brent’s voice was clear. “Seriously, why are you still there?”

Alex shrugged, even though she knew no one could see her. “Why do you care? I’m getting stuff done so you have less to do tomorrow.” It was Friday and Alex was off the next day, but Brent was on the Saturday shift.

“Alex.” Brent sighed. “Go home.”

Where was home? she wanted to ask. But instead she traced an oil spot on the concrete with her boot. “Yeah, okay. Just so you know, this Jeep here—”

“I’ve been drinking. Leave me a fucking note.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Fine. Take care of my sister for me.”

“Always do.”

Alex was about to hang up when Ivy’s voice came back on the line. There was a giggle, and Alex was happy for her sister at the same time a pang of envy sliced into her heart. “Alex?”

“Yup.”

“Want to come over or something?”

“Nah, that’s okay. You guys have a nice family night or whatever.”

“Alex, you’re family too.”

She was, but Ivy was starting a new family, a nice, perfect nuclear family, and there wasn’t room in that house for a clingy sister. “I know, but I’m cool. Gonna go home and crash.” She’d been reading Ivy’s romance books she’d left behind too.

“Okay, but if you change your mind . . .”

“Thanks, honey, but I’m fine.”

Ivy sighed. “ ’K, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket and glanced around the garage. She really should go home. The sun was setting, painting the fall sky in streaks of pink and orange. Hooking her thumbs in her pockets, she walked to the front of the garage, leaned against the side of the open bay, and gazed at the sky and the Friday night traffic on Main Street in Tory, Maryland.

She tapped the tire iron against her jean-clad thigh, enjoying the breeze on her heated skin and through the thin fabric of her tank top.

Her nerves were jittery, and sometimes she still had the urge to run. To flee. To be far away from him and her past as best as she could. But if she’d learned anything since she moved to Tory, it was that she couldn’t keep running. So she stayed here, where Ivy found the love of her life and where Alex had a good job and could see her niece grow.

She’d given up hope long ago she’d get the fairy tale that seemed to happen for everyone else. And that was okay. She’d hardened and carried a chip on her shoulder that was like an old friend now.

She was about to turn around and close up shop when the sound of a rattling exhaust caught her attention. She turned her head to see a red Mercedes—the source of the sound—making its way down the street. The car turned into the parking lot of Payton and Sons and Alex waited as it parked in front of her and the driver turned off the engine, which thankfully killed the noise.

Alex glanced at her watch. It was after seven now. Technically the shop closed an hour ago, but she waited for the driver to get out of the car, because it wasn’t like she was in a hurry.

The door opened. A man’s black dress shoe planted on the ground of the parking lot, attached to a gray-panted leg. That leg just . . . kept going. The man had to be tall as hell, and when he emerged from the car, Alex swallowed. Yes, he was tall. Very tall, probably close to six-four. He wore a gray suit with a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the top and a dark blue tie, loosened so the knot hung off to one side. He slammed the car door shut with a little bit of anger, and Alex jolted at the sound and the force, her body stiffening.

She hated herself a little at her knee-jerk reaction to a big man who was angry.

She squared her shoulders and gripped the tire iron, watching the tall man with dark hair glare at his car with his hands on his lean hips, broad shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh.

He speared his fingers through his hair and turned to Alex, opening his mouth to say something but stopping abruptly at the sight of her. He blinked.

She blinked back.

He was about ten feet away, and even from here she could see the brilliant blue of his eyes, the long dark lashes framing them. The little bit of silver peppering his hair at his temples.

He was gorgeous in a clean-cut, serious businessman way. The effortlessly wavy hair, the square jaw, the lips that threatened to open any minute and spit out such words like merger and acquisition and accounts payable. He looked like he didn’t smile, but scowled from under a heavy brow.

The type of man who’d always looked down his nose at all the Dawn women. Called them easy and white trash under his breath. Yeah, she was judging, but her defense was to judge first. Better to size up whom she was dealing with quickly than be caught off guard.

Basically, Mercedes Man was the exact opposite of Alex’s type.

She placed the tire iron she was holding and crossed her arms over her chest. With a raised eyebrow, she said, “Having some trouble?”

He blinked again, his hand frozen in his hair. Then he dropped it at his side, the other still on his hip. “Bloody car.”

It was Alex’s turn to be surprised. The guy was British. She’d never met anyone who was British, and she really only heard British accents on TV shows like Game of Thrones and Spartacus, when all the actors had these vague European accents in order to appear exotic. She grew up in Indiana. Not a hotbed of diversity.

“You guys really say ‘bloody’? Like that’s actually a thing?” she asked—and immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, because the man’s dark eyebrows dipped in a scowl, which still did nothing to lessen his attractiveness.

“Do you Americans really say ‘yee-haw’?” he shot back at her, the last word morphing into what Alex assumed was an attempt at a southern accent.

“You’ve officially said that word more than I have in my whole life,” she answered drily.

He paused, like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or glare. In the end, he went with a glare, along with a muttered, “Well, then, I’ll be sure not to blurt that out at random times.”

“That might be a good rule.” She took a step forward and jerked her chin in the direction of his car. “Need some help?”

“Your bloody roads,” he said. “Can’t go a hundred meters without hitting a pothole, and it’s done a number on my car.” His eyes took in a sweep of the shop. Alex tried not to look at it through this man’s eyes. Everything about him, from his clothes to his car, was sleek and clean and put together. The shop behind her was an older building, with a few—okay, several—cosmetic issues. It smelled like grease, oil, gas, and rubber, and she loved every fucking inch of Payton and Sons. So this guy could sneer at it all he wanted. It was home to her. When that arresting blue gaze returned to hers, his eyes were unreadable. “Can you service a Mercedes?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Uh, yeah, we can service a Mercedes.”

He didn’t flinch at her dry tone or her looks-could-kill laser eyes. The man was made of steel. “I see. Well, then, can you look at it, or do I need to speak to a manager?”

She kinda wanted to punch the guy. “No.”

He stared. “No . . . you can’t look at it, or no, I don’t need to speak to a manager?”

“Neither.” She gestured toward the unlit sign in the window of the office. “We’re closed.” Maybe she would have stayed open if anyone but this guy had pulled into the parking lot.

He sighed and ran his hands over his face and up into his hair, tugging on the dark strands before dropping his arms to his sides. “Fuck,” he muttered, turning his glare back onto the car.

She stuck her hands in her pockets. “Look, I’ll make sure the guys coming in tomorrow look at it, but that’s all I can promise.”

After a silent thirty seconds, he nodded. “That’ll have to do then.”

She took a step forward. “I’m Alex, by the way.”

His gaze dipped down her body for one minute before locking eyes with her. “Spencer.”

That name. So British and posh and everything Alex wasn’t. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” She should just make him figure it out on his own since he was kind of a jerk, but she could always use some karma points. And it wasn’t like Tory had a taxi service.

“I’m at the Tory Inn.”

“I know where that is. I can give you a ride, if you want.”

He studied her again, and she wondered what he thought of her. She was dirty after a long day at work, but she always wore a full face of makeup and red lipstick. He had hated it, but she didn’t wear it for him.

“Okay, yes,” Spencer said with a nod, his tone brusque. “I’d like that. Thank you.” His last two words were tacked on, like an afterthought.

Don’t hurt yourself thanking me. “I’m going to close up the shop, so you can get your things and I’ll meet you at my truck.” She pointed to her old Ford in the corner of the lot. His eyes followed her finger, and then he gave a short nod.

“Give me ten,” she said.

It really only took her five minutes to close up the shop, but she needed some time to gain her bearings. She could feel his judgment of her and her workplace on her skin like ants. She wanted to get home and shower and forget about this uppity Brit. Why had she offered him a ride home? Stupid, stupid Alex.

Also, why did he have to be hot?

When she approached her truck, he was standing by the passenger door, head bent, a lock of dark hair falling onto his forehead as he tapped away at his phone. As her footsteps approached, he looked up. He held a fancy-looking bag, the strap crossed over his chest.

“That all you have?” she asked.

He nodded and his head swiveled as he looked up and down Main Street. He sighed, and for the first time since she’d met him, his severe face softened. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve had a shite day, and I was an arse. Can I buy you dinner or a drink to make up for it?”

Alex hesitated. No, no, just say no. But he was looking at her with a somewhat eager expression, and she was starving. A free meal. While looking at a hot guy. Hopefully he kept his mouth shut. “There’s a little place down the street, serves burgers and beer.”

“Lovely.”

As they got into the truck and she put on her seat belt, she said, “But you don’t have to pay—”

“Please, Alex.”

She tried not to think about how she liked the way he said her name, drawing out the first syllable and emphasizing the x. “Sure, okay,” she said as she backed out of the parking lot, glancing at him as she did.

He smiled then. A smile that transformed his surly face into . . . something gorgeous. Spectacular. Like he belonged in some period film with a cravat, sipping champagne. She tried not to think about how his smile made her feel, even as the warmth spread down to her toes. He was just a hot guy, and she’d been around hot dudes before. Hell, she worked with some. So why couldn’t she quit perving on this one? Especially because he’d already shown he could be an asshole. God, was that who she was? A woman who was doomed to always want to bone jerks?

Spencer’s name was probably something like Spencer Addington IV, and he probably had a distant relative of royalty. Surely, his family played polo or cricket or whatever they did over there in Britain.

Either way, despite the way his eyes lingered on her lips and the way his long tapered fingers rested on his thigh, he wasn’t her type.

Hell, she didn’t have a type anymore.

Being alone was lonely, but at least it was safe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rachel

 

5stars-300x71

 

 

Are you ready for another visit to the Payton and Sons garage? After devouring this book let me tell you this, you are in for a treat when Alex comes to front in this book and absolutely owns the story.

I floved this book so damn much. I don’t think I can do it justice. But here goes, watch out I might get wordy.

It’s a given that I will fall head over heels for a Megan Erickson hero. Think Brent & Cal (drool). But this time around I also fell for the heroine, I absolutely loved Alex. I have a huge girl crush on her, and I am not ashamed to admit it.

Why was she crying? There was no crying during one-night stands. So she blinked them away, not wanting to dwell on how much it had affected her that he’d asked what she wanted. Because she hadn’t known how much it meant to hear that question. She was used to taking what she wanted.

We’ve had a taste of Alex in Dirty Talk and with Dirty Deeds she is front and centre, and Alex not only gets the HEA she totally deserves, she gets it in the form of a hunky Brit who never saw her coming. If you didn’t already love Alex you will after you finish the last page of Dirty Deeds with a big goofy grin.

That said, I am totally ass over tea-kettle for Spencer too. How could you not love a man does the unimaginable and breaks the barrier that surrounds Alex’s heart and does so with simple gestures and words. Spencer, oh Spencer. Every time he appears on the page you will fall a little bit more in love with him. That man……… he could break my porch railing any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

“Bloody hell,” he panted against her skin. “We need to meet in public so we stop trying to rip each other’s clothes off.” “What if being in public doesn’t stop us?” she asked, clutching his shoulders tightly and rolling her hips against his hardness between her legs.

I loved watching these two fall and fall hard and fast. Even though they were meant to be a one night stand, chemistry like they have won’t be denied. Yes there was a part that add me sniffling extra hard (not crying!!!), okay, okay I was tearing up because Spencer and Alex were breaking my heart as they were breaking each other’s.

“I’m sitting here, soaking wet, with the hottest girl I’ve ever met on my lap, and I’m telling you that you have all the power here. All of it. You might have felt powerless with him, but he didn’t take your power from you. It’s not mine to give back, either, because you’ve had it all along. It’s still yours.”

There was something extra special about seeing Alex finally being able to put the past behind her and see that there is good love out there and sometimes it’s in the place you least expect it. Plus the message that domestic abuse whether it’s with fists or words is never your fault hit a chord with me and hopefully it will do the same with others.

Instead of seductive, her posture was powerful, confident, and fuck if that didn’t turn him on more than anything he’d ever seen.

Spencer also surprised me with his climb from the gritty streets of Manchester to the glittering lights of New York and how he found peace in a little town with a petite mechanic who never fails to surprise him. He wasn’t who I thought Alex would end up with but he is totally perfect for her nonetheless.

In case you haven’t already picked up I loved this book, I have to say it, I absolutely loved it. It felt like going back home to visit old friends again from the moment I picked it up to the moment I finished with a satisfied sigh. Megan Erickson you are amazing for creating these characters and town that I desperately want to move to. But……..this reader has her fingers crossed for another book and couple to get their HEA, maybe Davis & Delilah, pretty please!!!!

For me this is a must read series and a must read author.
 

 

 

 

 

Buy-The-Book-1-300x86

Amazon US ♥  Amazon UK  ♥  Amazon CA  ♥  Nook ♥  iBOoks  ♥  GooglePlay

goodreads-badge-add-plus-d700d4d3e3c0b346066731ac07b7fe47

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Giveaway

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

 

 

 

About-the-Author-1-300x86

 

Megan Erickson grew up in a family that averages 5’5” on a good day and started writing to create characters who could reach the top kitchen shelf.

She’s got a couple of tattoos, has a thing for gladiators and has been called a crazy cat lady. After working as a journalist for years, she decided she liked creating her own endings better and switched back to fiction.

She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kids and two cats. And no, she still can’t reach the stupid top shelf.

 

 

 

 

 

Comments are closed.

Subscribe via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe The Sub Club Books & receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 42,089 other subscribers

Latest Tweets