Yours in Scandal Read online Lauren Layne (Man of the Year #1)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Man of the Year Series by Lauren Layne
Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Yours in Scandal (Man of the Year #1)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lauren Layne

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
1542018803 (ISBN13: 9781542018807)
Book Information:

A political golden boy and the woman of his dreams take the risk of their lives in a sexy romantic comedy of strange bedfellows and second chances by New York Times bestselling author Lauren Layne.
Fresh off being named Citizen magazine’s Man of the Year, New York City’s youngest mayor, Robert Davenport, decides it’s time to strategize. Next move: a bid for the governor’s seat. In his way: an incumbent with a flawless reputation. He also has an Achilles’ heel: an estranged wild-child daughter with a past so scandalous it could be Robert’s ticket to victory. And a charm so irresistible it could be Robert’s downfall.
Rebellion is a thing of the past for Adeline Blake. As New York’s premier event planner, she’s all about reform and respectability. Then she’s approached by Robert to organize the party of the season. Curious, considering he’s her father’s most formidable opponent. And alarming, too. Because Addie can’t help but fall for the righteously popular candidate with the movie-star smile.
Now it’s Robert’s choice. Does he pursue a future that holds his legacy? Or the woman who holds his heart?
Books in Series:

Man of the Year Series by Lauren Layne

Books by Author:

Lauren Layne



Chapter One

Monday, September 28

“So. How does it feel to be listed in the same company as Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and Hugh Jackman?”

Robert Davenport didn’t bother to look up from the police commissioner’s report he was reviewing as he answered. “Utterly absurd. Actually, no. Make that painfully ridiculous.”

“Come on. You’re not flattered? Your Hollywood good looks are finally getting the attention they deserve,” the other man said, dropping into the chair opposite Robert’s desk.

Robert very slowly, very subtly let out an exhale of irritation and, after taking his time putting the report away, gave his campaign manager his full attention. “Why would that be flattering? Unlike the aforementioned, I’m not Hollywood. I spend my days trying to make the country’s largest city a better, safer place, not shooting a fake gun in front of a green screen.”

“Well, lucky for us, all your do-gooder integrity has made you the hottest thing on the newsstand these days,” Martin said, tossing the magazine onto Robert’s desk and leaning back, hands behind his head.

Robert picked up the magazine and dropped it in the trash without a single glance at the cover. The image of his face on the front of Citizen alongside the aggrandized Man of the Year! headline had been shoved at him by every person he knew since its publication last week.

Undeterred by Robert’s indifference, Martin tipped forward again, letting the wooden legs of the fussy chair thud heavily against the rug. “Come on, Robbie. It’s gold. Pure fucking gold.”

“It’s shit,” Robert countered. “Pure shit. Also, did we have an appointment?”

The question was rhetorical. Martin was most definitely not on his calendar, and in a career that lent itself to very little downtime, Robert hated unnecessary interruptions. Something his longtime campaign manager knew full well.

“Your face is in every grocery store and Walmart in America,” Martin pointed out. “If I didn’t stop by to tell you to take advantage of the moment, you should fire my ass.”

The last statement was uttered in the arrogant tone of a man completely confident in his job security, and Robert tried not to chafe at his campaign manager’s assumptions. Martin had been in the political arena since Robert was a boy—specifically, Martin had been in the Davenport political arena. He’d worked for Robert’s father before the man’s untimely death, which, according to Martin, made him “practically family.”

“You got my strategy emails on how to capitalize on the magazine cover?” Martin asked.

“Got them. Deleted them,” Robert said.

Martin’s impatience was plain. “This is free publicity, Robbie. The type of publicity that makes you a household name. And you know where being a household name gets you? The White House.”

Robert leaned back in his chair and gave in to the urge to crack his knuckles. It was a habit he’d mostly kicked in college, but the compulsion still came back to him when he was feeling particularly frustrated or pissed off. Today, he was feeling both.

Robert nodded in the direction of the magazine in the trash can. “Did you read it?”

“Of course I’ve read it. I had the team grab the best pull quotes to start brainstorming how to work them into TV spots.” Martin paused. “Have you read it?”

“I read the cover. The headline pretty much says it all,” Robert grumbled.

“Hell yes it does,” Martin said enthusiastically. He leaned down and lifted his old-school briefcase onto the desk and opened it.

Martin pulled out another copy of the magazine, and as tempted as Robert was to trash that one as well, he knew it was futile. Martin would keep them coming until he’d said his piece.

The campaign manager pointed at the cover, his finger tapping on each damning word as he read the headline aloud. “Man of the Year: Robert Davenport. Powerful. Charming. Single?”

Robert winced but stayed silent.

“The question mark is good,” Martin continued. “Single. Question mark.”

“How is that good? If they’d done their homework, they’d have known it was Single, Period.”

“Be glad they didn’t.”

Robert gave Martin a wary glance. “Do I even want to know?”

Martin leaned back, folding his hands over the bulge of his stomach. When Martin had joined Robert’s father’s campaign team nearly thirty years ago, he’d been a wiry, ambitious twentysomething eager to claim his place in history as part of the Davenport legacy. He’d done exactly that, though with Robert Jr. instead of Sr., as he’d originally planned. Martin had been Robert’s campaign manager since the very beginning. He was no longer twentysomething. His lanky frame had thickened into middle-aged paunch. His ambition, however, had remained.

No, his ambition had increased.

Robert felt disloyal for thinking it, but he’d worried for some time now that Martin’s ambition had been replaced by something a bit more sordid. He wouldn’t go so far as to say his campaign manager played dirty. But there was a cynicism and derision to the way Martin talked about the very people they were trying to serve, and Robert had the nagging sense that Martin cared about winning more than he did their reasons for winning. More and more frequently Robert concluded his meetings with Martin with a sense of unease in his stomach. But Martin was one of the last remaining links he had to his father, and for that, he could tolerate quite a lot.

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