Peninsula Records & Books
Mr Masters - T.L Swan
Mr Masters - T.L Swan
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Book Title: Mr. Master
Author: T.L. Swan
Step into a sizzling romantic comedy with Mr. Master by bestselling author T.L. Swan—a story bursting with chemistry, chaos, and laugh-out-loud moments.
When Brielle Johnson lands a nanny job in London, she’s ready to bring her heart and charm to the role. But her new employer isn’t the sweet widowed woman she expected—it’s Julian Masters, a brooding, grumpy single dad whose carefully ordered life is turned upside down by Brielle’s spirited, chaotic ways.
From mischievous children to accidental misadventures (like spying on Julian at a particularly revealing moment), Brielle’s knack for trouble keeps Julian on edge—and utterly captivated. As sparks fly and boundaries blur, the heat between them becomes impossible to ignore. Will they surrender to the pull of desire, or is Julian too set in his ways to let love in again?
With T.L. Swan’s signature blend of steamy romance, laugh-out-loud humor, and emotional depth, Mr. Master is a delightful read for anyone who loves fiery banter and irresistible slow-burn tension.
Read if you like: The Nanny by Lana Ferguson or The Stopover by T.L. Swan.
Match an album: Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande.
Blurb
Blurb
He is powerful, older and my boss, a lethal combination.
Job satisfaction has taken on a whole new meaning.
When I lied on my resume, I didn’t expect it to matter.
I mean any child would love me; I was born to be a nanny. I applied for a position working for a woman, or so I thought.
But Julian Masters is definitely all man…the kind you dream of licking chocolate from.
The first day was bad.
The kids were the spawn of the devil and I spied through a window and caught him doing something obscene…. and equally fascinating.
The second day was worse, he caught me snooping in his bathroom cabinet in my skimpy pyjamas and all hell broke loose.
On the third day, I ran over him in a golf cart.
And by day four I had decided that I wanted that chocolate…all of it.
Melted….on me.
But intelligent, widowed Judges don’t fall for ditzy nannies. Or do they?
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