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A review by kandisteiner
Neat by Kandi Steiner
NOW AN AMAZON TOP 70 BESTSELLER! Thank you!
First, there was On the Rocks. Now, the Becker brothers are BACK in my new book... Neat!
Grab Your Copy (FREE with your Kindle Unlimited subscription!) ➔ amzn.to/34TXYs3
Neat is a stand-alone book in the Becker Brothers Series.
➔ Small town
➔ Country
➔ Romeo & Juliet vibes
➔ Angst paradise
➔ Holiday romance
"Rival families. Deep secrets. Exact opposites who can't help but cross all the lines. Neat will leave you thirsty for more Becker Brothers!" -- bestselling author Staci Hart
"I'm telling you, these Becker brothers will wreck and ruin you! They are beyond lovable and charming AF. Neat was so well written, so addicting, so refreshing and sexy and heartfelt and romantic. I'm just in love with this entire world of characters. CRAZILY obsessed!" -- Angie, Angie's Dreamy Reads
"I'm speechless, completely speechless. After finishing this book, my brain is a fuzz, trying to take what happened in. Neat by Kandi Steiner is angst personified. It is gritty, emotional and pulls you in instantly." -- Lozzie, ARC Recipient
And now, an EXCLUSIVE Goodreads sneak peek! (pre-edits, subject to change)
Even with all that being said, I shouldn’t have been so worked up over the fact that Patrick’s youngest — Mallory Scooter — would be walking through my door any minute now. I shouldn’t have been working my stress ball overtime, tapping one foot under my desk, biting the inside of my cheek as I ran over the words I would say when she got there.
Sure, she was the founder’s granddaughter and the current CEO’s daughter.
Sure, she beared the last name of the family I couldn’t escape.
And sure, she hadn’t earned this job — not the way I had. It’d been handed to her, just because of the blood flowing in her veins.
But it wasn’t even any of that that mattered.
What did matter was that I was the lead tour guide, and rightfully next in line to be manager — and I had a sneaky suspicion she was hired to thwart that.
Another thing that mattered — perhaps what mattered most — was that I’d had a secret crush on Mallory Scooter since I was fourteen years old.
No one knew that last part — not even my brothers, who knew everything about me. I’d never told a soul that I found her outspoken sass and open rebellion against her family and this entire town a huge turn on. I’d never once stared at her longer than appropriate, never showed the fact that my palms were sweaty every time she came around.
We were the son and daughter of a bitter rival sparked to life decades ago and still burning hot today.
There was no option for me to entertain my infatuation with her, and I’d known that. I’d steered clear of her with little effort over the years. It was easy to do in high school and even easier to do once she left for college. The past couple of years had been slightly more difficult, since I knew she was back in town and liked to hang out at the same places I did. Still, I’d avoided her in every way possible, shoving down any and every urge I had to get to know the blue-eyed girl with the septum piercing who I spied painting the most intimate, gruesome painting of my life our sophomore year of high school.
But now, I would be working with her every single day.
What was worse, I’d be training her — and likely to take the job I was rightfully owed.
That was why I couldn’t sit still, why frustration and giddiness battled inside me as I waited for her to show.
I wanted to see her.
I hated that I had to see her.
I couldn’t wait to talk to her after all this time.
I couldn’t bear the fact that I had to talk to her at all.
Not a single emotion made sense as they fought that war within me, and logic didn’t have enough time to show up and calm them all down before there was a knock at my office door.
I dropped the stress ball in my hand just before it swung open, and I followed that bright yellow, spongey ball as it rolled all the way across the office and knocked gently against the toe of dirty, white, high-top Chucks.
I’m not sure how long I stared at those shoes, only that it was a little too long. Because by the time my brain finally processed that I should stand and clear my throat and make my way around my desk to greet my guest, she was watching me with an arched brow and flat, beautifully painted lips.
“Logan Becker?”
I forced a smile, ignoring the way my name sounded rolling off her tongue. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard her say it before, though I was almost certain I hadn’t.
I’d have remembered.
She had a slight Tennessee lilt, which seemed a little out of place, given her appearance. She paired those high-top white Chucks with jeans that had more holes than fabric, revealing slivers of the tattoos on her thighs. Her t-shirt was black, with a band name I didn’t recognize, and more tattoos peeked out from under each sleeve. She had a blue and green flannel tied around her waist, accentuating a waist I wagered was just right for me to fit my hands around. Her hair — which had been purple just last week — was now a platinum blonde, parted down the middle and framing her face in a tight, shoulder-length bob. Her lips were painted a dusty rose, her blue eyes lined and shaped like a cat’s, and that septum piercing she was so famous for around town glittered in the fluorescent light of my office.
She was everything that every other girl in this town wasn’t.
And I loathed that it made me want her so fiercely.
First, there was On the Rocks. Now, the Becker brothers are BACK in my new book... Neat!
Grab Your Copy (FREE with your Kindle Unlimited subscription!) ➔ amzn.to/34TXYs3
Neat is a stand-alone book in the Becker Brothers Series.
➔ Small town
➔ Country
➔ Romeo & Juliet vibes
➔ Angst paradise
➔ Holiday romance
"Rival families. Deep secrets. Exact opposites who can't help but cross all the lines. Neat will leave you thirsty for more Becker Brothers!" -- bestselling author Staci Hart
"I'm telling you, these Becker brothers will wreck and ruin you! They are beyond lovable and charming AF. Neat was so well written, so addicting, so refreshing and sexy and heartfelt and romantic. I'm just in love with this entire world of characters. CRAZILY obsessed!" -- Angie, Angie's Dreamy Reads
"I'm speechless, completely speechless. After finishing this book, my brain is a fuzz, trying to take what happened in. Neat by Kandi Steiner is angst personified. It is gritty, emotional and pulls you in instantly." -- Lozzie, ARC Recipient
And now, an EXCLUSIVE Goodreads sneak peek! (pre-edits, subject to change)
Even with all that being said, I shouldn’t have been so worked up over the fact that Patrick’s youngest — Mallory Scooter — would be walking through my door any minute now. I shouldn’t have been working my stress ball overtime, tapping one foot under my desk, biting the inside of my cheek as I ran over the words I would say when she got there.
Sure, she was the founder’s granddaughter and the current CEO’s daughter.
Sure, she beared the last name of the family I couldn’t escape.
And sure, she hadn’t earned this job — not the way I had. It’d been handed to her, just because of the blood flowing in her veins.
But it wasn’t even any of that that mattered.
What did matter was that I was the lead tour guide, and rightfully next in line to be manager — and I had a sneaky suspicion she was hired to thwart that.
Another thing that mattered — perhaps what mattered most — was that I’d had a secret crush on Mallory Scooter since I was fourteen years old.
No one knew that last part — not even my brothers, who knew everything about me. I’d never told a soul that I found her outspoken sass and open rebellion against her family and this entire town a huge turn on. I’d never once stared at her longer than appropriate, never showed the fact that my palms were sweaty every time she came around.
We were the son and daughter of a bitter rival sparked to life decades ago and still burning hot today.
There was no option for me to entertain my infatuation with her, and I’d known that. I’d steered clear of her with little effort over the years. It was easy to do in high school and even easier to do once she left for college. The past couple of years had been slightly more difficult, since I knew she was back in town and liked to hang out at the same places I did. Still, I’d avoided her in every way possible, shoving down any and every urge I had to get to know the blue-eyed girl with the septum piercing who I spied painting the most intimate, gruesome painting of my life our sophomore year of high school.
But now, I would be working with her every single day.
What was worse, I’d be training her — and likely to take the job I was rightfully owed.
That was why I couldn’t sit still, why frustration and giddiness battled inside me as I waited for her to show.
I wanted to see her.
I hated that I had to see her.
I couldn’t wait to talk to her after all this time.
I couldn’t bear the fact that I had to talk to her at all.
Not a single emotion made sense as they fought that war within me, and logic didn’t have enough time to show up and calm them all down before there was a knock at my office door.
I dropped the stress ball in my hand just before it swung open, and I followed that bright yellow, spongey ball as it rolled all the way across the office and knocked gently against the toe of dirty, white, high-top Chucks.
I’m not sure how long I stared at those shoes, only that it was a little too long. Because by the time my brain finally processed that I should stand and clear my throat and make my way around my desk to greet my guest, she was watching me with an arched brow and flat, beautifully painted lips.
“Logan Becker?”
I forced a smile, ignoring the way my name sounded rolling off her tongue. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard her say it before, though I was almost certain I hadn’t.
I’d have remembered.
She had a slight Tennessee lilt, which seemed a little out of place, given her appearance. She paired those high-top white Chucks with jeans that had more holes than fabric, revealing slivers of the tattoos on her thighs. Her t-shirt was black, with a band name I didn’t recognize, and more tattoos peeked out from under each sleeve. She had a blue and green flannel tied around her waist, accentuating a waist I wagered was just right for me to fit my hands around. Her hair — which had been purple just last week — was now a platinum blonde, parted down the middle and framing her face in a tight, shoulder-length bob. Her lips were painted a dusty rose, her blue eyes lined and shaped like a cat’s, and that septum piercing she was so famous for around town glittered in the fluorescent light of my office.
She was everything that every other girl in this town wasn’t.
And I loathed that it made me want her so fiercely.