The Attraction File by Elizabeth Lynx is the second in the “Cake Love” series. This story is about Evaleen and Edgar who we met in the first book, Rules of Payne.
The two books overlap a little bit, so you can see how they occur in the overall timeline of events. I loved this story. I didn’t fall in love with them right away, after all Evaleen wasn’t my favorite character in the first book. The character development was well done, and believable. You don’t necessarily understand right away, and that makes you annoyed with Evaleen. Then once you begin to understand her background, you realize, she’s not who you thought she was. Kind of like the realization that Edgar had about her as well. There were laugh out loud moments, and the sex was steamy. I loved the relationship between Evaleen and her mom, and I thought that was going to be weird at first. Overall it was a great read, and while reading the first book isn’t necessary I would recommend it for the full effect.
Bechmann is too busy running Human Resources for the billion-dollar company,
Mimir, to even consider dating. As for emotions, she refuses to discuss that
too. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s invisible to men, especially one man in
particular. Evaleen is fine with that. Not everyone gets their happily ever
after, that’s only for novels.Edgar Mirmir is a Nordic god to some, a tech-savvy genius to others, and to
women – he is everything they desire. His life should be perfect, and
everything he has ever dreamed of… only it’s not. One woman haunts him. When he
first saw her, her electric blue eyes shone with defiance, fear, and sorrow. He
wanted to reach out to her, but she disappeared. Until one day he turned around
and there she was.
back to end this conversation. “Listen, Chewie—”
that made it obvious he was fishing for my name. He can keep on fishing because
that was on a need-to-know basis. My mother always said, “Evaleen Bechmann, you
are being paranoid,” but in the age of the Internet, giving him my name could
be as powerful as giving him a knife.
with a woman. He believed groping me and refusing to take the hint that I
didn’t want to go out with him was normal. And that’s just sad he’s so
killer costume that any other Star Wars purist of the female species would
every man I had met hadn’t gotten it. They touched and they took, but they
didn’t understand. That’s why I avoided them. Preferring to remain alone.
costumes, or skimpy princess costumes, or costumes in general. This female just
likes to stand in a line and be left alone. So, good luck finding your princess,
but I am as far from a princess as you will find around here.”
Wookie courage, I turned back to find the blonde still at the counter.
surviving on only three hours of sleep before an interview for a job that I
needed, action was necessary.
“Excuse me, Miss, but I believe it has been ten minutes, which is plenty of
time to order your drink. Some of us don’t have the luxury of time, and were
kept up by our roommate doing gymnastics in bed with her boyfriend until four
in the morning.” I gritted my teeth and shook my head trying to get back on
point. “So, if you wouldn’t mind placing your order and letting the rest of us
have a turn . . .”
fake and matted like Albert’s costume. His eyes were the most beautiful gray,
like smoke rising from a smoldering fire. They slid over my face.
The timbre of his voice like a sonic boom under my skin. His skin, on the other
hand, remained still, smooth, and my fingers, for reasons I am attributing to
lack of sleep, twitched to touch any part of him.
widened at what I could only assume was disbelief. Disbelief that a woman of
twenty-six years would be referring to a fine specimen of a man, a manly man if
you will, as a woman. Despite his thick blond mane and skirted attire, he was
Scottish hero William Wallace and not a sweaty sci-fi version of Sasquatch. He
even painted his face blue and white.
fear in me, but no. Instead of running in terror, I did the opposite. I laid my
hands on him. My fingers caressed his chest working their way down. Doing the
exact thing I just lectured Albert not to do. I should have probably stopped.
pheromone that screamed sex me with your hands. Sensing quickly how firm his
chest was it propelled me farther down, down to his abs. The man had a six-pack
or maybe even an eight-pack; whatever pack was hiding under that brown
threadbare piece of cashmere was making my heart race and lady parts start to
turn savage themselves.
blond’s voice broke me out of my self-gratifying pawing and I realized I was
feeling him up, or down as the case may be.
as if I wasn’t a chest molester and nothing out of the ordinary just happened.
Clearing my throat, I tried to salvage what little dignity I had left.
barista who either had a rare eye condition that caused her to shoot fire at
anyone she laid eyes upon, or she hated me right now. I was going with the
latter, so I turned my gaze to the line of customers who had their phones
turned up to face me as they filmed what had been occurring. Including Albert.
as, The Woman Chest Molester.
of himself in protection from the mad chest molester. He’ll probably tell tales
to his future kids and grandkids of the crazy chest molester. “Be wary of her,”
he’d say in a low warning with his dialect suddenly turning from American to
Scottish. After all, he was dressed as William Wallace.
the window panes would rattle from the storm that swirled outside his Scottish
castle, he would whisper, “For if wee girls and boys don’t do as they’re told,
the wiry fingers of the deranged chest molester will grab hold!” The kids would
cower, holding their blankets to their little faces; one girl would begin to
cry as he wrapped his powerful arms gently around her tiny frame in comfort.
He’d calm her as he broke out into an old Gaelic tune.
but it’s Scottish, so close enough.
Elizabeth Lynx writes romantic comedy with steam. She’s a recovering comedian. Wife and mother of the male species. Believer in love & laughter. Her life consists of preventing small catastrophes and wondering if a day will exist when she doesn’t have to fold laundry.