Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
The barstool wobbled under me when reaching for a cheddar biscuit. They’re my weakness. Much like he used to be.
Rolled up sleeves and tailored pants have replaced the boots and jeans my brother’s best friend once wore. But it’s not just the clothes that have changed. His shoulders are broader and he’s broodier. Somehow, he's even more handsome than ever.
And seeing the little boy smiling at his side? My heart instantly melts. I can't handle Tagger as a hot single dad.
Since he has no plans to stay, I know it’s best to avoid him. But daily run-ins at Rollingwood Ranch make him hard to ignore, and even harder to walk away.
His heated glances warm my insides, his smile awakens my dormant heart, and one stormy night leads to crossing lines we vowed we wouldn’t.
But when falling in the hay turns into falling in love, I start to wonder if our happy ending is a long time coming. Or will he return to the city leaving me with a broken heart?
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, S.L. Scott, will lasso your heart and tie the bow in this Swoony, Single Dad, Forbidden to Date, Cowboy Romance that will have you falling in love along with the characters
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Christine “Pris” Greene
Fridays are the best day of the week.
I practically shoulder the door open to Peaches’ Sundries & More in my rush to get inside. If I’m even five minutes late, I’ll end up empty-handed. The smell of fresh bread escapes through the door as the bell chimes above my head.
Coming from the bright outdoors, I take a quick second for my eyes to adjust to the indoor lighting. And when they do, I’m not disappointed. One remains. One glorious cheddar biscuit sits inside the bakery display.
“Lauralee?” I call, walking toward the glass-and-brass-trimmed display. I’m used to my best friend greeting me when I walk in. When she doesn’t, I peer above the counter and toward the ice cream on the right side of the register. “Lauralee?”
“In the back with some cookies,” she says, her voice slipping through the crack of the swinging door to the back. “I’ll be right out.”
“I’m getting the last biscuit, okay?”
“It’s all yours.”
I lean over the counter to slide the case open from the back, but I can’t wedge it open far enough. My stubborn side sends me toward choosing the more difficult route in everything I do, and since I have no intention of climbing over the counter, I prop my knees on a stool and try again. I just about have the buttery, cheesy bread of the heavens in my hand when someone says, “Pris?”
Startled, I slip forward, sending my ass into the air as I slide toward a face-plant on the linoleum floor. Big hands catch me, grabbing my hips as the strength of fingers dig into the plush of my lower waist.
The voice . . .
The nickname . . .
The butterflies awakened from the dead now fluttering in my stomach . . .
I’m brought to safety on the stool again and swirl around to come face-to-face with the same man I just dreamed about rather recently. Though I’ll keep that tidbit to myself instead of giving him the pleasure. I smirk. “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”
His smile just about knocks me right off this stool again. I’d forgotten how potent it was. Although, judging by my heart’s rapid pace, it didn’t. I’m right back to that sweet sixteen little girl who righteously earned the nickname. “It’s been a long time all around.”
I can’t help but notice his hands haven’t left the curve of my hips, and it seems he notices at the same time. I’m released against my silent protests, leaving a chill where his warm palms once were. Regretfully, my brother’s best friend never held me like that before. He didn’t take the chance. The threat of death from the middle Greene sibling, my brother Baylor, might have played a part as well.
I set one foot down and then not so gracefully scuttle down until I’m solid on both, coming toe-to-toe with my childhood crush after eight years. A lot has changed.
His hair isn’t as wild, though I wouldn’t call those strands on top tame. The Pass’s winds probably whipped through them when he arrived in town. A day or two worth of stubble only adds to the rugged good looks he was bestowed at birth. I have imagined a clean-shaven face from the last time I saw him. My memory didn’t serve as well as the real thing does. I think he’s even taller, if that’s possible. Damn him.
“It sure has. Tagger Grange,” I say, smiling like I still have a crush on the guy. I might. Fine. I do. The rolled-up sleeves and tailored pants aren’t deterrents to scrambling my chemistry all over again for him. “What brings you back to Peachtree Pass?” Straightening the skirt of my dress after revealing a lot of leg in my almost tumble from the stool, I fuss about it. But when the hem anchors on the top of my boot, I leave it, not wanting to come off as nervous. This dress is the least of my concerns since the man in front of me is busy stealing my full attention.
A smile hasn’t left his face, but it’s not pure sunshine. The devil lies inside as he looks me over like my brothers wouldn’t kick his ass if they caught him. Licking his lips, he takes a breath and slowly exhales. “It was time.”
The way his green eyes hold my gaze, I start taking inventory of all the ways I could have made more effort today—a swipe of mascara and a coat of lip balm are all that I’m wearing on my face while I chose a dress I reserve when it’s laundry day for everything else in my wardrobe. My cowgirl boots are scuffed and worn, broken in, and the most comfortable pair of shoes I own. I can’t say I’d be wearing anything else other than these, but maybe something more feminine would have given me the confidence to stare into his eyes a little longer.