Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Bianca Estrada is in Montana for one reason—secure the perfect location for a Hollywood blockbuster and move on. The job means everything. It’s her chance to pay off debts that were never hers to begin with. But someone in town doesn’t want the film to happen, and the escalating threats make it clear they’ll do whatever it takes to scare her off.
Adam Ridgeway has built a quiet life as the owner of the local bar, far removed from his Army days and the heartbreak he swore never to repeat. The last thing he needs is to play hero for a city girl with one foot out the door. But when danger follows Bianca straight into his world, keeping his distance is no longer an option.
The only thing more persistent than Bianca’s stalker? The town’s meddling matchmakers, determined to push her and Adam together at every turn. With danger closing in and chemistry burning hot, what starts as protection turns into something deeper. But with Bianca’s future miles away and Adam’s roots planted firmly in Montana, can they hold on to each other when the credits roll?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
The man belonged behind a bar in a western town. Or on a movie screen.
Bianca let her eyes adjust to the dim interior, taking in the quiet stretch of wooden tables worn smooth by time and use. The air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner layered over old pine and a deeper scent that spoke of late nights and long conversations. At the far end of the room stood a long, hand-carved bar, solid and grounded, with a man behind it.
A real man—muscled and strong.
Dark curls brushed his forehead, a five o’clock shadow roughened his jaw, and intense brown eyes tracked her with deliberate patience as he wiped water from a glass with a crisp white towel. He didn’t rush. Didn’t pretend not to notice her. He simply watched.
“Hi,” she whispered. Where the heck was her voice?
“Howdy. Darlin’, we don’t open for a few more hours,” he murmured, the Montana cowboy accent slow and unforced, the words pitched low.
Bianca swallowed. “That’s okay.” She walked toward him, suddenly aware of her high heels and designer jeans, both a gift and both wrong. She wanted to wear those new cowboy boots she’d bought at the airport. With every step, his attention followed her, not bold, not crude, but thorough in a way that curled heat low in her belly. “I’m guessing you’re Adam,” she added, hopeful despite herself. The roughly carved sign outside, appearing rather new, read ‘Adam’s.’
A quick flash of a grin stopped her in her tracks. The man was seriously, dangerously good-looking. “That’d be me.” He set the glass aside. His gaze lingered on her mouth a beat too long before lifting to her eyes. “But again, we don’t open for hours. Or are you lost?”
She shook her head as memories tugged at her. Mineral Lake in Maverick County held some of her fondest moments, though Adam himself was new to the landscape. “I’m not exactly lost. Is this your bar?”
“It is.” He tilted one eyebrow, curiosity sharpening his expression. “You looking to buy a bar?” The corner of his mouth curved, as if he already knew the answer and enjoyed asking anyway.
She laughed, the sound escaping before she could stop it. “No.” She studied him openly, cataloging the kind of presence cameras loved, the kind that read as confidence without effort. “You ever think about acting?” she blurted.
His focus swept down to her heels and back up to her face, slow, assessing, and unapologetic. “Acting? No.” There was amusement in his voice, lazy and warm. “I prefer real audiences.”
Was that an innuendo? It sure sounded like it.
“I see.” Her pulse ticked faster than it should have. He seemed entirely comfortable in his own skin. The kind of man who didn’t need a spotlight.
“Darlin’, can I help you?” he asked again, softer this time.
The drawl wrapped around his words and slid under her defenses. Not Southern. Montana. Slower. Less honey, more quiet charm, and somehow far more dangerous.
She moved closer, forcing herself to focus. She worked with famous and handsome men daily. This should not throw her. She held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Bianca Estrada, the location scout from Canyon Road Films.”
He stacked the glass neatly by the sink, dropped the towel on the counter, and took her hand. His grip was warm, confident, and lingered just a fraction longer than necessary. His thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles. “Are you, now?”
Holy moly.
His calloused palm engulfed hers in a way that sent a sharp, unexpected jolt up her arm and straight through her carefully maintained composure. The contact felt deliberate, grounding, as if he knew exactly the effect it would have and was enjoying it without rushing. Perhaps she should’ve had Clancy contact the local bar owner.
She disengaged quickly, though her pulse didn’t get the memo. “Yes. Hi.” She cleared her throat, annoyed at herself. “I’m scouting towns for a movie directed by Lyle McCombree.” She paused deliberately, letting the name sit between them like bait.
Nothing flickered across Adam’s chiseled face. Not surprise. Not interest. Just calm attention, fixed squarely on her, making her want to blush.
“Okay, well, he’s kind of famous,” she said, a little dry. It had been a huge get for Bianca’s cousin Randi to hire him for her first movie, and if it didn’t work out, Randi’s new production company was sunk. Completely. “This bar is perfect for a couple of scenes, so I was hoping…”
“No,” Adam said softly, but unmistakably, the word delivered with a quiet confidence.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I said no.” He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t shift his stance. The certainty stayed right there, steady and immovable.
Her chin lifted. “We would pay you.”
“I prefer privacy to money.” His gaze didn’t leave her face, and there was something almost intimate about the refusal.
Bianca surveyed the establishment, her professional instincts kicking in despite the distraction of him. Beyond the bar sat a small stage. Past it, another area held a couple of pool tables and dart boards lined neatly along the wall. An air hockey table sat tucked into the corner. The floor was clean, the tables solid, and the bar stools sturdy. It was freaking perfect. “Everybody could use more money.”