From New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Probst, discover The Reluctant Flirt…

Just one night…

After discovering her husband’s affair, Sierra Lourde flees to New York City for a little damage control—and a lot of wine. A tipsy night in a bar with a charming stranger seems like the perfect way to forget her troubles. No names, no promises, just one night to escape reality and regain her confidence. The next morning, mortified by her vulnerability, she flees without looking back. But who needs closure, right?

But one night changes everything…

Sierra has reinvented herself as the proud owner of Flirt, a trendy boutique in the Outer Banks. Life is good—until Kane Masterson, the man she left behind, walks back into town. And of course, he’s now the developer whose big new project threatens to bulldoze her beloved shop. Kane needs this deal to save his career, but Sierra’s not about to let him demolish her hard-won success.

With sparks flying, sarcastic jabs turning into lingering looks, and a family wedding forcing them into close quarters, Sierra and Kane find themselves tangled in a battle of wills—and hearts. But now he has to choose: reclaim his career or risk everything for a second chance with the one woman he can’t forget.

“You gotta hear this one. A man walks into a bar and…”

Sierra Lourde stared at the guy who was rattling off bad
jokes and held back a groan. Really? She expected such behavior in her small
beach town—tourists were notoriously chatty and tipsy on vacation—but this was
New York City. At the Carlisle hotel. Wasn’t that fancy enough to guarantee
loud, sloppy men wouldn’t try to pick her up when she just wanted to sit by
herself and drink a glass of overpriced wine?

The overweight, almost bald man guffawed at the punchline,
not caring she didn’t break a smile. “Hysterical right? Let me buy you another
drink.” He made a motion to the bartender but she reacted quickly.

“No, thanks. I’d prefer to be alone right now, but
appreciate the offer.”

He blinked red eyes in disbelief. Then
grinned like he’d misheard her. “A pretty woman like you? Nah, I’m a great
listener. Try me.”

Sierra glanced around the mostly empty bar and tamped down a
sigh. Once again, she’d have to take care of things herself. Why hadn’t she
learned there was never someone coming to save her? The lesson kept slapping
her upside the head enough times to get a concussion. Yet,
here she was. Still hoping for a white knight to step in, get rid of the guy,
and not expect a thing in return.

The men that Mom always spoke about, she thought with a
touch of bitterness. The ones from those awful movies she played over and over,
telling Sierra love was the only reason for living, and to go big or go home.

Oh, she’d gone big alright.

And then she’d gone home. For good.

“Look, I just want to—”

A deep, gravelly voice interrupted her from behind. “Sorry,
honey, I ran late. The kids are in bed but I think Sylvester came home with
lice, which I may have caught—oh, hi. Keeping my wife company? Thanks so much.”

Her jaw unhinged but she snapped it shut, refusing to ruin
the save. Sierra caught his scent before she actually saw
the stranger; a mix of clove and whiskey that was so sensually male, she almost
gave another sniff just to confirm. The joke guy almost stumbled back when he
was offered to shake hands, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Must be afraid of catching lice.

Sierra smoothly picked up her role. “Dammit. I was hoping to
clear my thoughts but I guess that’s not happening.” She gave a deep sigh. “I
think lice is even worse than bed bugs, don’t you, darling?”

“I agree. We should’ve never sent Sara to camp.”

Joke guy took another step back. “Uh, I’ll leave you to,
ugh, figure things out.”

In seconds, they were left blissfully alone. Sierra swiveled
her head around to thank her savior, then turned mute.

He was…breathtaking.

Thick, russet hair with touches of gold tumbled over his
brow. His features were classic Irish but held a carved symmetry that kept him
from looking too pretty. A short, clipped beard hugged his lush lips, giving
him an edge. But it was his eyes that held her motionless.

A deep-set emerald, gleaming with both mischief and ruthless
intelligence. A swirl of gold and green that demanded a woman’s full attention,
because she’d be helpless under his stare. Sierra didn’t have to study him to
note the cut of his designer suit, or the lean muscled body beneath. She knew
immediately he was way out of her league, but damned if she’d give him the
satisfaction of stumbling over her words. God knows, he was probably used to it.