Spotlight & Giveaway: OLIVIER by Brenda Rothert

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you Brenda Rothert’s new release: OLIVIER

Hello everyone!

 
Daphne

I knew who I was before Olivier Durand came along. Despite growing up among the privileged elite, I never cared about corporate ladders or dream weddings. I proudly wear the label of social justice warrior. Until a car accident changes everything overnight. A video goes viral: Chicago’s Hottest Bachelor, billionaire Olivier Durand pulling me from my burning car. When he sets his sights on me, the whole world is watching. He can chase after me all he wants, but my answer will be the same: I loathe the ultra-wealthy. Even when they’re handsome, persuasive and…I have to admit, charming. It’s a hell no from me, though. Until suddenly, I’m not sure I’m the woman I thought I was.
 
Olivier

Now I know how the players on the NHL team I own must feel. Relentlessly hounded. Once the video of me pulling a woman from her burning car goes viral, privacy becomes a thing of the past. For whatever reason, Twitter has collectively decided this woman and I should become a romantic thing. A hashtag combining my name with hers is trending daily. Absolute nonsense. But then I meet her, and realize Twitter got it right. Daphne Barrington is beautiful, funny, brilliant and sweet. Now I just have to convince her to date me. Easier said than done. She’s maddeningly stubborn, and my deep desire to be with her soon has me writing massive checks. Not for jewelry or cars, but to charities. Winning Daphne’s heart is going to cost me, and I’m not sure even I have enough money to do it.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from OLIVIER 

Some days I wish I could focus all my energy on being the owner of the Chicago Blaze, the NHL team I bought a few years ago. That’s where my passion truly lies. I don’t work for money anymore—I’ve got plenty. I’ve always liked the challenge of turning around struggling companies. The money I make from my two tech companies allows me to invest in passion projects, and I enjoy taking something that’s broken and putting it back together.
But sometimes deals fall through. I have a mantra in business that’s never failed me—always be willing to walk away.
Hell, that mantra applies to life in general. I think about using it as the theme of a speech for the speaking engagements I do, and I start taking mental notes.
“Well, shit,” Ben mutters, slowing to a stop. “There’s an accident ahead. Scratch that twenty-minute ETA.”
“What’s going on? Can you see it?” I pick up my phone and text my assistant Jack to bump back the meeting I’m heading to.
The sound of a woman screaming sends Ben scrambling to unbuckle his seatbelt.
“I have to go up there. I might be able to help.”
Ben retired from the CPD after an injury that left him with a pretty bad limp. I don’t want him hurting himself trying to run towards an accident.
“I’ve got it, Ben,” I say, as I rush to unbuckle my seatbelt and jump out of the car before he has time to argue.
The sound of the woman screaming is amplified now that I’m out of the car. I move to the shoulder of the road and break into a run, my dress shoes squeezing my toes as I sprint.
“Somebody help! Please!” the woman’s voice cries.
Her shouting makes me run faster. I channel my early-morning treadmill sessions, pumping my arms and running as fast as I can, my heart pounding and my quads burning.
Orange flames finally come into view, and I slow as I take in the absolute chaos of the accident.
There’s a full-size conversion van with a smashed front end, skid marks showing it crossed over from the other side of the road. Two men are helping kids out of the van. And about fifty feet away, a small car is completely flipped over, tires in the air and flames alight beneath it.
“There’s someone stuck in there!” The woman who was screaming runs up to me and grabs my arm, frantic.
“How many people?” I take my suit jacket off, my mind switching into Handle-This-Emergency mode.
“I don’t know. No one has gone over there but there has to at least be a driver. I’m afraid the car will explode.”
A line of bystanders watches as I run over to the car and get on my hands and knees on the ground. The fire must be coming from the engine, and has already spread to the passenger seat. I look towards the driver’s seat. A side airbag is blocking my view, but I can see a woman’s hand hanging limp, her short nails painted pale pink. I don’t think she’s conscious, but I call out to her anyway. There’s no response. I don’t even know if she’s alive.
“The police are on the way!” a man yells from the row of bystanders. “Don’t move her! Let them do it.”
The fucking car is on fire. And with rush hour traffic and no sirens approaching, I might be this woman’s only hope.
I try to open the front door, but it’s crunched into the ground along with the roof, and it doesn’t budge at all.
“I need a knife!” I yell to the crowd. “Somebody get me a knife!”
Taking a deep breath, I open the back seat passenger door. The car is sitting at an angle, and the door won’t stay open unless I’m holding it. I grab the fabric of the car seat, the floormat—anything I can get my hands on to hoist myself up. Nothing works.
Shit. I have to get into that car. I can feel the heat from the fire, which is dangerously close to the unconscious woman. I get my hand on a piece of metal beneath the driver’s seat, and I try to pull myself up on it, but it’s not big enough.
Thoughts race through my mind. There’s no time. I can’t let this woman burn to death just because I can’t figure out how to get in this car. There has to be a way.

Excerpt. ©Brenda Rothert. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 
 

Giveaway: 5 ebook copies of OLIVIER (A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance) by Brenda Rothert

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Meet the Author:

Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.

Website: http://brendarothert.com/
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