The Nanny Arrangement
Country Blues #2
By: Rachel Harris
Releasing May 22, 2017
Entangled Bliss
Blurb
Soft-spoken and shy Hannah Fisher is determined to make the man she’s loved her entire life finally see her as a woman. With the help of a makeover, a new mission—Operation Find My Happy—and the convenient forced proximity of a tour bus, she vows to win her best friend Deacon’s heart.
Former bad boy and current fiddle player Deacon Latrell has the world at his fingertips: a new gig with a famous band, plus his best friend on tour as his son’s nanny. Life couldn’t get much sweeter. Now if only he could stop imagining kissing the daylights out of his childhood BFF…
With one friend set on pushing the boundaries and the other afraid to rock the boat, one thing’s for certain—their story would make one heck of a country song.
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SASCHA DARLINGTON’S REVIEWThe first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Mine is: I cannot say “no” to music novels. I’m getting better. I’m actually disregarding the impressive blurbs and looking at Goodreads ratings of trustworthy reviewers, and limiting myself to novels that are more than 3 stars but see that’s not foolproof.
On paper, The Nanny Arrangement looks like just my kind of book. I love the boy-next-door romances and you make that boy a musician and I’m sold. On Goodreads the ratings are mostly 4 and 5 stars across the board.
Unfortunately that makes this one of my your-mileage-may-vary reviews. I feel either like a curmudgeon or Goldilocks (could it have been that Goldilocks was a short curmudgeon?).
I found The Nanny Arrangement to be a little unbelieveable (for a bullied person, Hannah’s character is way too trusting of strangers) and saccharine for my tastes. While I don’t mind a dose of saccharine, I need it balanced by action and not the inner turmoil of a couple who just push and pull in a relationship.
The writing was average and in some instances wordy or imprecise, which forced me to reread sentences.
However, I know that there are a bunch of you readers out there who will adore this book. You will probably love this book if you like very, very sweet romances filled with lots of characters and kids and “silly songs about inanimate things” (the author’s wording, not mine).
I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
rating: 
3 out of 5 butterflies
Author Info
New York Times bestselling author Rachel Harris writes humorous love stories about sassy girls-next-door and the hot guys that make them swoon. Vibrant settings, witty banter, and strong relationships are a staple in each of her books…and kissing. Lots of kissing.
An admitted bookaholic and homeschool mom, she gets through each day by laughing at herself, hugging her kids, and watching way too much Food Network with her husband. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romances, and LOVES talking with readers!
Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
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-EXCERPT-Deacon released a heavy breath. Sometimes the right thing felt a hell of a lot like nausea. Resolved with what he had to do, he looked at the door…then slowly dropped his hand.
He’d give it another few minutes.
Calling himself ten shades of coward, he redirected his steps. A hot shower would clear his head. Maybe he’d even pull a Hannah and rehearse what he’d tell her in advance. It always worked for her, helping her control her stutter, and though Deacon didn’t have that particular problem, he was nervous as hell. If her head was even half as muddled as his was, this conversation wouldn’t be easy.
Frustrated, he shoved open the bathroom door harder than necessary. Fog and heavily scented air rushed to greet him, and it took a second for the reason to register. When it did, he came to an abrupt stop with one hand on the doorknob and one foot still in the hall.
Candy and flowers.
As the steam disappeared through the crack in the door, a vision appeared, plucked straight from his recent fantasies. Creamy skin, pink from the shower and wet with liquid drops, topped anything his imagination could’ve conjured. Damp ginger curls clung to a slender throat that was arched back, making a sexy silhouette as full lips trembled in a silent speech to the ceiling. Dark, spiky lashes lay across a flushed cheek, hiding a pair of expressive eyes he’d know anywhere.
Torture, thy name was Hannah.
Gone was the girl he’d known in high school. Erased was the rock he’d depended on in college. The goddess in the shower was a woman, a beautiful woman, with tantalizing curves, shapely legs, and the most incredible smile he’d ever seen.
The arousal flowing through his veins mocked his previous so-called resolve.
“Cherry.”
Her name came on a choked breath, but Hannah’s eyes snapped open. Smooth skin turned to stone as she stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed, before slanting those green eyes toward him in horror.
“Deacon!” Frantic, she tried to cover her body, slinging one arm over her perfect breasts while reaching for the folded towel on the counter with the other, only to quickly draw back her hand and slap it over her lower half as well.
It was the hardest thing he ever did, keeping his eyes above her waist. Taking one step forward, he grabbed the terrycloth and handed it over, not trusting himself to get any closer. When she took it from his hands, she could hardly look into his eyes. Deacon’s chest gave a hard kick.
Hannah made quick work of the towel, wrapping the terrycloth around her torso and clinging to the edges. She bit her lip and stammered, “Wh-what are y-you doing?”
It wasn’t remotely funny. The reappearance of her stutter meant she was either stressed or anxious, two things he never wanted to be the cause of. But he couldn’t help the laugh that broke free at the innocent question.
A full-bodied, unstoppable laugh that threw his head back with the force of it.
“What am I doing?” he repeated in amusement, hearing the gruffness of his own voice and dragging in a deep, floral-scented breath. “Oh, Cherry… I’m losing my ever-loving mind.”
Describe yourself in five words or less.
Silly, hopeful, romantic, and loyal.
What do you like to do when you aren’t writing?
When I’m not writing, I’m a homeschool mom (my main job and passion in life), so you can usually find me with a book in hand and cuddled with my children. Or in my SUV driving the streets of Houston to one of their extracurriculars and hoping like heck Google Maps knows where it’s going
