| Author: | Rayne Forrest | ISBN: | 9781519970824 |
| Publisher: | White Deer Enterprises/White Deer Books | Publication: | February 25, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Rayne Forrest |
| ISBN: | 9781519970824 |
| Publisher: | White Deer Enterprises/White Deer Books |
| Publication: | February 25, 2016 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
Madelyn Murphy isn't your typical spoiled rich girl. She only has one household drone, and she does her own cooking. There are exceptions, of course. When Madelyn's service drone breaks just before a dinner party, she calls Triple D Drones for help. When the new "Dallas" prototype shows up to lend a hand, Madelyn finds she needs help with more than serving dinner.
Triple D Drones' owner, Dallas Dyson, has made a fortune in the service drone industry. He'll even lend a helping hand himself if someone's in a pinch.
Isn't service what a Triple D drone does best?
_*_*_*_
"Triple D Drones. May I help you?"
Dark hair, dark eyes, the pale complexion of someone who took care not to allow sun damage to her skin, and a smudge of…Was that a parsley leaf on her otherwise perfect nose? Dallas discretely zoomed in for a closer look.
It was a basil leaf on her nose and olive oil in her hair. This didn't bode well for the condition of her drone. The GDR upgrade involved Hazel's cooking protocols.
Her full lower lip quivered. A drop of olive oil broke free and dripped from her bangs. Her eyes rounded in horror as she swiped her hand over her face.
"Oh, dear. I must look a fright," she murmured. "I guess it's a good thing you're a drone."
Drone? Not the last time he checked, he wasn't. Last night, he'd been flesh and blood man as he sweated through his workout at the gym. His shoulders and thighs still ached from the punishment he inflicted on his body to keep it in shape. He checked her account.
She didn't own a Triple D personal pleasure drone, but that didn't mean some of her friends didn't, which would explain why she thought him a drone. Not for the first time, he cursed his vast stupidity in basing the appearance of the Trent personal pleasure model on his own features.
Dallas quickly gave her the good and bad on her drone, his mind racing as it tried to come up with a temporary replacement for her.
"Ms. Murphy, we have isolated the problem with the Hazel I model with the most recent food preparation upgrade. However, we're waiting for the repair part to become available."
Her lovely face carefully arranged itself into a bland expression. She blinked rapidly, several times, her long, thick eyelashes dampened.
Dallas knew from experience to choose his next words carefully else he'd fall into the bottomless pit of feminine desperation. A woman's tears sent him to his knees, every time, and this one hovered on the verge of major flooding.
"However, I'm available to assist you in any capacity necessary."
Madelyn Murphy isn't your typical spoiled rich girl. She only has one household drone, and she does her own cooking. There are exceptions, of course. When Madelyn's service drone breaks just before a dinner party, she calls Triple D Drones for help. When the new "Dallas" prototype shows up to lend a hand, Madelyn finds she needs help with more than serving dinner.
Triple D Drones' owner, Dallas Dyson, has made a fortune in the service drone industry. He'll even lend a helping hand himself if someone's in a pinch.
Isn't service what a Triple D drone does best?
_*_*_*_
"Triple D Drones. May I help you?"
Dark hair, dark eyes, the pale complexion of someone who took care not to allow sun damage to her skin, and a smudge of…Was that a parsley leaf on her otherwise perfect nose? Dallas discretely zoomed in for a closer look.
It was a basil leaf on her nose and olive oil in her hair. This didn't bode well for the condition of her drone. The GDR upgrade involved Hazel's cooking protocols.
Her full lower lip quivered. A drop of olive oil broke free and dripped from her bangs. Her eyes rounded in horror as she swiped her hand over her face.
"Oh, dear. I must look a fright," she murmured. "I guess it's a good thing you're a drone."
Drone? Not the last time he checked, he wasn't. Last night, he'd been flesh and blood man as he sweated through his workout at the gym. His shoulders and thighs still ached from the punishment he inflicted on his body to keep it in shape. He checked her account.
She didn't own a Triple D personal pleasure drone, but that didn't mean some of her friends didn't, which would explain why she thought him a drone. Not for the first time, he cursed his vast stupidity in basing the appearance of the Trent personal pleasure model on his own features.
Dallas quickly gave her the good and bad on her drone, his mind racing as it tried to come up with a temporary replacement for her.
"Ms. Murphy, we have isolated the problem with the Hazel I model with the most recent food preparation upgrade. However, we're waiting for the repair part to become available."
Her lovely face carefully arranged itself into a bland expression. She blinked rapidly, several times, her long, thick eyelashes dampened.
Dallas knew from experience to choose his next words carefully else he'd fall into the bottomless pit of feminine desperation. A woman's tears sent him to his knees, every time, and this one hovered on the verge of major flooding.
"However, I'm available to assist you in any capacity necessary."
