Buried secrets never stay hidden in the South.
When you find out that your fiancé is arrested for swindling over ten million dollars from his clients, you do what any sane woman would do. You escape reality and go undercover, trading in your city-girl Louboutin’s for country-pumpkin cowboy boots.
It wasn’t a forever change—it was temporary. I only had to stay here until things back home got straightened out, or so I thought.
I was riding horses before I was walking, or at least that was what they told me. I always knew I would take over the family farm. It’s in my blood.
Country boy at heart, the minute I saw her dragging her luggage up the gravel driveway I knew she was out of my league.
I shouldn’t have started anything with her, because I knew she was just passing through.
I couldn’t stop it, I fell in love with her. Even though I knew, in the end, she would leave me.
motto and the premise of my speech; the one I’m heading back to Southern
Illinois University to give at my college alumni reunion. As the morning
co-host of Good Morning, San Francisco, I was asked to be one of the
keynote speakers, and while I’m honored to do so, there’s only one problem. The
other speaker is Danny Ohara, my former boyfriend. Throw in an issue with my
credit card that leaves me stuck at the airport, no rental car in sight, until
a familiar face appears like a guardian angel in sexy black glasses.
Rigsby, my airport savior and old friend from college: I’m not supposed to be
attracted to him. At all. He’s my ex’s former roommate. Yet that doesn’t stop
my big mouth from lying about the status of our relationship when we come
face-to-face with said former roommate. As in, we have one.
for the alumni reunion, but I’m damn sure glad I did. When I found the familiar
face stranded at the airport, I readily agreed to give her a ride. It’s great
to catch up with Cricket Hill, as we make our way back to the place we
ultimately met. What I’m not prepared for is this overwhelming attraction I
feel for her. I’m not supposed to notice how amazing her butt looks in a pair
of black yoga pants. She’s a friend. Period.
about our budding relationship to my former roommate and her ex, I have no
choice but to go along with it to save face. I have to pretend to be her
boyfriend. I mean, it’s one little white lie, right?