Title: Texting With the Enemy
Series: Digital Dating
Author: Marika Ray & Delancey Stewart
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: April 16, 2021
“I was giggling and laughing so hard that I was glad I didn’t drink or have to pee beforehand…” Goodreads Review
can I say? When a book includes a bunch of texts, wine, quilting, a pig
costume, and mannequins, you know it’s going to be a hit!” Goodreads Review
She’s texting him her heart. But she’s got the wrong number….
When Isabel “El” Watson applied for a sales job with her company, she had no idea a jelly donut would explode on her blouse, or that her grumpy boss would practically laugh her out of the interview. Accountants could be salespeople, she was sure of it, even if that jerkface didn’t think so.
So when a lady at the local wine festival offers her a sales job on the spot at a new boutique winery, El jumps at the chance. She also jumps at the chance to text with the guy who danced with her at the festival. Life was finally looking up.
Boston’s friend, Chad, never should have given Boston’s number to the girl at the wine festival as a joke, but the damage was done. When El sends Boston a text later that night, believing he is Chad, he’s too nice to hurt her feelings by telling her the truth. But there are a few other truths Boston might have thought about:
Truth #1: He’s her boss
Truth #2: She just accepted a job at his mother’s new winery
Truth #3: He’s always had a crush on her
Even though Boston is no longer El’s grumpy boss, they still work together at his mom’s winery. And while sparks are flying as they get to know each other for real, El’s kind of sweet on the guy who always seems to know just what to say via text too.
Obviously, things will come to a head.
Will Boston come clean about the flirty texts being from him? Or will El figure out on her own that she’s been Texting With the Enemy?
GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57539231-texting-with-the-enemy
let’s run through a mock tasting. Pretend I’m a customer who just
walked in.” Boston strode toward the front door of the tasting room.
sounded like an awful idea, but I couldn’t help how my gaze ate up the
way he filled out those suit pants to perfection. Had he been a soccer
player in another life? Maybe a weightlifter? A cyclist? Not sure that
kind of leg muscle came from sitting behind a desk all day.
walked toward me with an actual smile on his face and I lost my train
of thought, not that the leg muscle thought train had been a good one in
the first place. Boston had never smiled like that at me before. I
didn’t even know his face could do that. It was disconcerting how much
it made my insides feel like a scoop of ice cream on a hot sunny day.
“Nope. That won’t work. You have to smile at the customer, El.” Boston clapped his hands and made me jump.
guessed it also made me inhale sharply because the next thing I knew,
one of the buttons on my polo decided enough was enough and shot
straight toward Boston, pinging him on the chest before falling to the
“Oh!” I gasped, one hand going to the gaping hole on my shirt, the other covering my gaping mouth.
made a noise that sounded an awful lot like he was being strangled. He
bent down and picked up the button, putting it on the counter and
looking away. “Maybe you should just unbutton it and put that last
button out of its misery.”
My face flamed a
thousand degrees. I looked down to see the remaining button sweating
bullets. I took pity on it and unbuttoned it, which saved the button
from popping off, but gave a wider expanse of cleavage than I preferred
in a work setting. In a stroke of genius, I remembered a tool that would
save the day. Spinning around, I took the clip off the cute bulletin
board behind me that housed all the laminated wine menus, clamping it
onto my shirt instead. A little bulky with a clip holding my polo shirt
together, but it would do in a pinch.
welcome to The Cunning Ham!” I said brightly, ready to get back into the
role play. Probably came off a little too brightly, but I had a
wardrobe malfunction to overcome.
inhaled through his nose sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face again
before turning back to the bar. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere
but here with me, the hot mess he’d told me I was when I interviewed
with him previously.
“What kind of wines do you have here?”
hands shook, but I was able to slide a plastic menu toward him. “We
have quite a few. You look like a red wine kind of guy to me. Am I
A hint of a smile appeared around his mouth and I mentally high-fived myself for keeping my cool. “I am, yes.”
Our cabernet has a base of blackcurrant, oh-so-subtle licorice, and a
hint of blueberry.” I grabbed a glass and poured what I thought was the
right amount for a tasting. I slid the glass over to Boston, who swirled
it around before sniffing and tasting.
“Not bad. I think there’s some cherry in there too.”
I remembered he told me that. That had been right around the time I was
debating if the flecks in his eyes were brown or golden.
have a good nose for this,” I murmured, quickly picking myself up and
moving on. “How about trying a lighter-bodied red? This is our pinot
I poured another glass and slid it
toward Boston. I must have hit a knot in the wood because the glass
snagged and tipped in the blink of an eye. The red wine splashed out of
the glass and onto Boston, hitting basically the same spot on his chest
the button had. The glass rolled but didn’t shatter. I gasped in horror
while Boston jumped back a split second too late.
stood there staring down at his ruined shirt, his chest rising and
falling like a bull before it charged. I was frozen to the spot, ready
to be fired for the second time that night. The blood red wine dripped
to the floor, making a mess at his feet. When he lifted his head and met
my stare, I felt horrible at the anger I saw there. It was tinged with
what I could have sworn was exhaustion. An odd mix considering the guy
was CEO of a wine distribution in an up-and-coming area of Napa County.
How bad could things be as a rich business owner?
pushed out a big sigh, leaving only the exhaustion. His shoulders
dropped and I burst into action a few seconds too late, grabbing the
towel and coming around the bar. I swiped at his shirt, finding solid
muscles behind the soaked cotton.
“Here. Let me
help,” I gushed. “I’m so sorry. The glass just slipped. The wood is
very knotty. Or naughty, depending how you look at it, really. I’ve
heard a little hydrogen peroxide will take the stain right out. Or I can
buy you a new one. No problem.” I kept pawing at him, managing only to
widen the stain and bring back the anger on Boston’s face.
He grabbed my hands, stilling my manic movements. “It’s fine. Let’s
just start over. You have to get this right for this weekend.”
looked into his eyes, realizing we were mere inches apart and my hands
were all over his torso. We were so close the clip on my shirt was
poking him in the chest every time I inhaled. I took a quick step back
and hoped my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. I dropped the towel and
my gaze, trying to clean the wine off the floor instead. The floor
didn’t have distracting muscles. Boston stepped back too, his fancy
dress shoes not quite out of my line of sight. His dress shirt hit the
floor in a heap and I nearly wrenched my neck looking up so quickly.
stood there in dress pants and no shirt. Thank goodness I’d already
lost my buttons earlier, because my lungs required a full inhale to keep
me from passing out. Boston Cunningham, my old boss but kind of my new
boss, was exquisite. Shoulder muscles blended into pectoral peaks,
sitting atop a full plate of abs that shouldn’t have been possible under
all those suits I’d seen him in the last few years.
“Whoa,” I whispered, instantly regretting not saying that just in my head.
Ray is a USA Today Bestselling author of RomComs, spending her time
behind a computer crafting stories, walking the beaches of southern
California, and making healthy food for her kids and husband whether
they like it or not. Prior to writing novels, Marika held various jobs
in the finance industry, with private start-up companies, and then in
health & fitness. Cats may have nine lives, but Marika believes
everyone should have nine careers to keep things spicy.
Delancey Stewart is
a USA Today Bestselling author. My contemporary romances run the gamut
of settings and setups, but they always deliver humor, heart and heat.
It’s a guarantee.
write from my home in Denver, CO, where I manage a household full of
boys and men. Okay, only one man. The hubs. But two boys. I mean, three
if you count the hubs. (You see why I do words and not numbers. I was
told there’d be no math in this bio. Someone lied.)
I grew up in California and have had more jobs than anyone on earth
(personal trainer, pharmaceutical rep, copywriter, tech writer,
marketing director, wine seller, elementary school teacher… I’m not
kidding. The list. It goes on.) But the one I love the most is writing,
in part because I get to meet people who love books and stories as much
as I do!