Tour Stop { Authors Top 5 / Excerpt / Giveaway}: Perfect Kind of Trouble by Chelsea Fine

PERFECT KIND OF TROUBLE by Chelsea Fine (June 17, 2014; Forever E-Book)
Sometimes when perfect falls apart, a little trouble fixes everything . . . 
Twenty-one-year-old Kayla Turner has lost everything. After spending most of her life taking care of her ailing mother, she just wants to spot a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. So when her late father-a man she barely knew-leaves her an inheritance, she finally breathes a sigh of relief . . . until she learns the inheritance comes with strings. Strings in the form of handsome playboy Daren Ackwood, her father's protégé. To see any of her inheritance, she's forced to team up with him. From his expensive car to those sexy dimples, Kayla's seen his type before. But Daren isn't who he seems to be . . .
Struggling to make amends for his family's mistakes, Daren has a life more Oliver Twist than Richie Rich these days. He's beyond grateful that James Turner included him in his will, but working with Turner's princess of a daughter to fulfill his cryptic last wish is making Daren wonder if being broke is really so bad. Still, she's just as beautiful as she is stubborn, and the more time he spends with Kayla, the less it feels right being without her. Soon Daren and Kayla begin to wonder if maybe the best gift Kayla's dad could have left them . . . was each other.
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Chelsea Fine's Top 5 Must Haves When Writing a Book
1. Coffee. It’s a must. I can’t write if I’m not awake. And I’m not awake until I have an unhealthy amount of caffeine running through my veins. Haha. But seriously.

2. Chapstick. I don’t know why, but I have this nervous habit where I have to constantly apply lip balm when I write. I’m so weird! But I can’t help myself. I have three different Chapstick tubes beside my computer right now—just in case I suddenly need to gloss up my lips. Haha.

3. Music. I write best when I have a powerful song playing on repeat in the background. My favorite kind of music, at the moment, is anything by Florence + The Machine or MSMR. I just love deep, dark songs blaring in my ears while I write about life and love.

4. Socks. My feet get really cold when I write so I always have an extra pair of socks in my office. I think it’s because I sit relatively still for 8-10 hours a day when I’m in my writing cave, you know? My blood circulation isn’t optimal with all that stillness so my feet get really cold. Haha.

5. Baby carrots. They’re a great snack! They’re cold and crunchy, so they keep me awake, but they’re also healthy so they keep me somewhat nourished. If I didn’t keep a stash of baby carrots in my office, I probably wouldn’t eat anything else all day. I have a hard time making myself take breaks for meals. So carrots are my friend. ;)

“So this is where you work?” She gestures at the closed kitchen door behind
me as she approaches.
I step back so she can enter the courtyard then glance over my shoulder. “It’s
more like the place where I help out in the kitchen, occasionally,” I say. “I like to
cook so sometimes the owner, Jake, let’s me jump on the line.”
She tilts her head. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the cooking type.”
“No?” I arch a brow. “What type am I?”
“Well the professional lover type, obviously.”
I grin. “That too.”
The teasing in her eyes along with the lightness of her smile does something
soft to my insides. This is a different Kayla than the one I was sitting next to at the
bar. That girl was stressed and burdened, but this girl... this girl is hopeful and
The only reason I can think of for the change in her tone is the inheritance.
Does the idea of getting money please her so much that she’s suddenly this cheerful
person? Does it please me that much?
I remember Jake’s comment earlier, about my being happy, and realize with a
sinking feeling that yes, the idea of an inheritance has made me happy. Money would
alleviate some of my problems and, therefore, it gives me a security in my future
that pleases me.
I’m not sure how I feel about money having so much control over my
contentment. It makes me sound an awful lot like my dad.
“So what is this place?” she asks, nodding to the courtyard around us.
I look up at the small twinkle lights strung above the area. “Right now it’s just
storage space. But Jake wants to make it into a dining patio. You know, so people can
rent it out for private parties or whatever.”
“It’s cute.” She walks around, checking out the rose bushes that line the fence
and the Tuscany-inspired mural painted against the back wall.
“So where you off to?” I step closer so we’re both beside the painted wall.
“Back to your humble abode at the Quickie Stop?”
She scoffs. “Humble indeed. But yeah.”
I glance at the dark parking lot beyond the fence and the even darker streets
that lead to the edge of town, and frown. “By yourself?”
She faces me with a cocked eyebrow. “Yeah. I’ve got my own driver’s license
and everything.”
I smile at the ground. “Okay, that’s fair.” I glance at the dark streets again.
“I’m just a concerned citizen that wanted to make sure you got home safely. That’s
She nods. “How very kind of you, citizen. Would you rather I be going back to
the Quickie Stop with someone?”
The idea of Kayla going home with someone—anyone, other than me—rakes
down my spine like nails on a chalkboard. I don’t know when I got so possessive of
this girl but holy hell. My veins are on fire.
How very unexpected. And somewhat annoying.
I don’t get possessive of women. Ever. Sure, I care about Amber and Pixie but
that’s different. I care about them like sisters. I’m protective of them. I couldn’t really
give a damn who they, or any other female in this town, go to bed with.
But Kayla?
Hot jealousy darts through my veins.
How very annoyingly unexpected.
I set my shoulders back in a casual manner. “Not particularly,” I say coolly. “I
just wasn’t sure if you had a ride or not.”
“Oh.” She runs a finger over her lips. “And what, you were going to offer me a
I watch the tip of her finger skim over the pink fullness of her bottom lip and
my breath hitches. She can’t say things like “give me a ride” and touch her mouth at
the same time. That’s just not fair.
“Well I might have offered you a ride,” I say, inwardly cursing as I remember
sweet, precious Monique, “except I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take rides
from strangers. And since that’s what you and I are...” I sigh dramatically. “It would
have just been a waste of time to ask you.”
She smiles behind her moving fingers and I start to wonder if she’d let me
kiss her. My guess is, yes. Maybe.
I want to kiss Kayla. Badly. But the idea of kissing her, of touching her at all,
also makes me a little nervous. And I’m never nervous when it comes to women.
Goddammit. Everything about this girl is unexpected.
“You’re so obsessed with us not being strangers,” she says, and her eyes
shine. “That can’t be healthy.”
I probably shouldn’t kiss her. We have an inheritance to claim tomorrow. We
have shit to follow through with. Kissing her is a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“No. Probably not.” I step closer so we’re only inches apart. “But I can’t seem
to let it go.”
She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t break eye contact.
Yes. She’d definitely let me kiss her. I’m sure of it.
My heart pounds and it’s all I can do to keep my nonchalant demeanor in
“Is that what we are, Kayla?” I lower my voice with a crooked grin.
She meets my crooked grin and raises me a tipped chin. Her eyes are steel
and sure, not giving anything away, and I suddenly feel unsure.
I lean in.
She doesn’t react. But she also doesn’t back away.
Kissing her is a bad idea.
Her lips part, ever so slightly, a thin seam of wet flesh forming between the
soft skin of her pretty lips, and all my reservations vanish.

About the authorChelsea lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and avoiding housework at all costs. She's ridiculously bad at doing dishes and claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee, sleeping-in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete lack of skill in the kitchen.  Website
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