Title: Professor Adorkable
Series: Domesticated Inc, Book One
Author: Edie Danford
Publisher: Edie Danford
Release Date: September 18, 2018
Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 90,000 words
Genre: Romance, Boss, Housekeeper, Best Friends, Nerd
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Synopsis
What happens when a star-gazing
professor falls for his hot young housekeeper? One heck of an earthy explosion…
Professor Marek Janos's genius at
analyzing stellar explosions doesn't apply to his own disordered world.
Forgetting to eat, sleep, and leave his lab has triggered some epic personal
disasters. When his family insists he hire live-in help, he discovers home life
has awesome benefits. His new housekeeper's smile sparks more energy than a
supernova. And the way he moves? It rocks Marek's galaxy.
Pete Schulz took a tough fall from his
high-flying life in Hollywood. But how does a guy whose best skill is getting
dirty clean up his act? His new gig with Domesticated Inc seems like a great
first step. Keeping house for a nerdy young astrophysics professor is exactly
the low-key, no-chance-for-trouble job he needs, right?
Living together is surprisingly easy for
both men. And fun. And more than a little hot. It's when they're faced with the
idea of living apart that the truly messy work begins…
Excerpt
“I made the mess,” I tell my
housekeeper. “So I will clean it up.”
“Yeah, I know you can clean it up if
given several hours,” Pete responds, his smile crooked. There are no signs of
exasperation on his face or in his tone. No signs that he’s upset I’ve woken
him up with the sound of breaking glass, and that his once-pristine kitchen
floor is now covered with a mess I could have easily avoided if I’d been paying
attention. “But it’s my job. Tomorrow morning your job is to go teach a class.
You’ll sleep until eight, eat a good breakfast, and then be off.”
I raise my eyebrows. “That is exactly
how it will happen?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“What if I want to negotiate?”
“Negotiate?”
“Yes. Things can be negotiated in a
democratic household, yes?”
“Democratic?”
I smile. “We have no dictators here. Or
kings or queens.”
“Well.” He snorts. “There is that matter
of your uncle signing my paycheck. But I get what you’re saying, I guess. What
were you interested in negotiating?”
“Tonight I feel…antsy? Unable to relax.”
I move my shoulders up and down to show him all this tension I’m experiencing.
“I’ll go upstairs and sleep, but first I would like company. To hang out with
you. For a while.”
His mouth droops as he folds his arms
across his bare chest and stares at me. “So you’re saying you’ll let me do my
job. But only if I give up my free time for you?”
“Um.” It’s cool in the kitchen, but my
face suddenly becomes steam-burn hot.
Damn. I’m incredibly bad at talking to
him—or any guy—I find attractive. Doesn’t matter where I am—Prague, Pasadena,
Chicago. My language barrier isn’t about Czech versus English. It’s about my
head versus my tongue.
What I want with Pete is complicated,
not simple. But, as usual, I’ve said words that could be construed as—
God, I don’t even know what.
“You suck at negotiating, Marek.” He
says it with a kind note in his voice.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “I do.”
He sighs and runs his hand over his
short hair—hair I want so fucking badly to touch. Is it bristly, soft? Would it
sift through my fingers easily, or would it be like my hair and cling to my
skin?
“I suppose we could listen to one Harry
Potter chapter,” he says, lacking his usual enthusiasm for the idea. “But just
one. And if you fall asleep or if I fall asleep or if we both fall asleep, it
will be your job to wake up and go back to bed. No sleepovers. That’s a rule
that’s not allowed to change.”
I swallow. Ordinarily I would give him
shit about the unreasonableness of his request—if we’re asleep, how will we
know we’re asleep and thus breaking his rules?
But I keep quiet tonight. I know I’m
pushing him. I know he’s beginning to figure out I want more than just his
company. So much more.
If this were a work-related matter, I
would get my way with a few basic words. Logic applies in my lab. When it comes
to my personal life, however, logic rarely applies. Basic words never seem to
work.
If I tell Pete what I really want—to
take him into his room, to put him on his comfortable bed, to kiss his clever
mouth over and over and over, to blow him until his sweet hotness spills down
my throat, to hold him tightly and use friction to excellent effect (inside or
outside our bodies, I don’t care) until we both come—then he would say “no”
quickly and firmly, and quietly shut that detestable door in my face. And I’ll be
lucky if he’s still around in the morning.
The situation between us is confusing. I
hope this is more than just his workplace. We are friends. He’s my best friend,
actually. And he’s the one who makes this place a home.
Occasionally, I have a hard time understanding…what
had my language tutor called it? Nuance. Nuanced meanings. Pete and I have a
lot of nuances happening between us.
“One chapter would be good,” I tell him.
“Chapter Twelve. ‘The Tri-wizard Tournament.’ I need to know all about it.”
He nods and tips his head toward the
open door to his suite. “I’ll meet you in there.”
My heart bounces around in my chest—more
zaps from that ionizer—but my head doesn’t like the take-care-of-business look
on Pete’s face. No smile, no teasing, no dancing notes to the way his boots
clap against the tile floor. He checks the locks and the deadbolts on the back
door and walks toward his room.
He glances at his doorway and then me,
his eyebrows rising. He looks as though he’s holding his breath, maybe holding
back a sigh.
Maybe it would be better to give him
space tonight. Better for me to be apart from what I want so much, but can’t
have. I should walk away, go back to my room without bothering Pete.
My damp toes stick to the cold floor. I
want to be more than a job for him. I want to be more than some guy he feels
sorry for, some guy who can’t even say what he wants.
I walk over to the sink and retrieve a
glass from the nearby cabinet. I fill the glass half full at the tap and then
drink. I set it down carefully. The water is cold, but my skin feels hot. I can
feel Pete watching me, waiting.
My eyes shift to the hallway. But my
feet carry me toward Pete.
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Meet the Author
Edie lives in Vermont with her husband, two sons, and random creatures that might or might not be pets. She loves libraries (where she's found play, work, and love since she was a kid), long walks (unless ice is involved), lewd language (in the right context), luscious romance (of any variety), and alliteration.Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail
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