If you're looking for a sizzling romance as your next beach read, look no further! New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Marie Harte delivers intense chemistry and scorching heat in her Body Shop Bad Boys series, perfect for readers looking for: muscled mechanics who live fast and love hard - fiery women who can go toe-to-toe with them all day - hilarious banter that'll leave you with a grin - undeniably hot romance that'll singe the pages Johnny Devlin's a charmer with a checkered past. Stealing cars landed him in jail, but he's learned his lesson. Now he spends his days working in the body shop at Webster's Garage and his nights trying to stay out of trouble―mostly. He's had his eye on bartender Lara Valley for ages, but she's perfected the art of rejecting him at this point. Still, when some dirtbag attacks her in the parking lot, Johnny doesn't hesitate to come to her aid. And when Lara finally asks him on a date as a no-strings-attached thank you, he won't be doing anything but saying hell yes . "Amusing from beginning to end, TEST DRIVE is an amazing start to the Body Shop Bad Boys series. I already can't wait for more!" ― Fresh Fiction "Harte’s take on the redeemed bad boy is fresh and sexy. A romance as brash and dynamic as its setting and characters." ― Kirkus Reviews "Fans of sexy, sun, small town romance contemporaries with a strong sense of family are sure to love Harte’s latest venture." ― Smexy Books " Test Drive is high octane chemistry that keeps the pages turning and your engine revving! If the sexy Johnny Devlin was my mechanic, I'd be ripping out spark plugs on a weekly basis. #iwantjohnny." ― Gina L. Maxwell, New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of the Playboys in Love series "It is always refreshing and endearing to be introduced to a man who is hard and tough on the outside, but sensitive and vulnerable on the inside. Each character is well written and fully developed, without taking attention away from the main leads. Harte has written yet another compelling novel with characters who readers have no choice but to cheer for." ― RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, New York Times and USA Today bestseller Marie Harte is a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether biking around town, hiking, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. Visit marieharte.com and fall in love. Chapter 1 The opening riff of an old-school AC/DC song echoed through the garage. Johnny Devlin bit back a curse when he scraped his knuckles on the pump of the piece of crap Cadillac he was working on. The smell of motor oil, sweat, and grease warmed the interior of Johnny's favorite place in the world. Webster's Garage boasted a double set of bay doors and a roomy interior complete with a cement floor and red-and-brown brick walls, a holdover from the original Tooley's Auto Shop. "Hey, asshole," he heard Foley snarl. "We talked about this. Hands off my stuff." Best buds Foley and Sam were squared off, staring holes through each other. When it came to order―and pretty much everything related to cleanliness―the two thugs sat on opposite ends of the spectrum. Foley―Mr. Tall, Dangerous, and Arrogant―was compulsively neat, while Sam might as well have had the word chaos tattooed on his forehead. Covered in tattoos, Sam was a walking billboard for badassery. Lou stepped over to the radio near his work station, and soon loud classic rock drowned out the rest of the argument. Just another day at the office. A cool breeze made Johnny sigh. Seattle's unseasonably warm autumn temps continued to be a pleasant surprise this year, and they kept the garage doors open to let the air circulate through the sticky auto repair shop. Even at nine thirty in the morning, he had worked himself into a sweat. Johnny cranked his wrench and stared at a stubborn pump assembly that refused to cooperate. He loosened it, got to the fan belt, then glared down at the problematic power steering pump. After glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was in the clear, he softly muttered, "Shitty Cadillac." The sound of someone shaking a familiar glass jar of coins made him tense. He heard it again, even over the blast of AC/DC. Ducking deeper under the Cadillac's hood, Johnny wondered who his sexy-scary boss was going to call out for cursing now. He was sure he hadn't been that loud. "Seriously, guys?" Delilah Webster held the newly purposed amber glass growler out to Sam and Foley. The woman had a hard-on for swearwords lately. Such a sad waste of a perfectly good beer container. Once the half-gallon jar had been home to a killer IPA flavored with hops and a hint of citrus. Now, it was nothing but a no-swearing jar filled with goddamn quarters. As if the shop going clean would prevent Del from slipping up at her wedding. He imagined her dolled up in a white gown, tats, piercings, and her hair all done