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"A Lauren Blakely book is a guarantee of a good time." --Meghan Quinn, New York Times bestselling author
He ghosted me once, now he's supposed to protect me?
I don't need a bodyguard--I run a small town lavender farm, for bee's sake. But when my identical twin sister lands the movie role of a lifetime and the production rolls into my hometown, I get one anyway. And guess who the studio sends to keep the paparazzi off my porch?
The broody, tattooed protector who slipped out before our one night stand even got started.
He's all wicked mouth and heated eyes...and apparently excellent at rescuing me from sneaky photographers. At the market. At the coffee shop. At the dress shop, too. Staying mad gets harder with every save--especially once he takes up residence in my cottage. My one bedroom cottage. As in, one bed.
One night to knock out this tension turns into two. Then into secrets we should keep, and soft confessions we shouldn't say out loud. He's leaving. I'm staying. It's supposed to be a summer fling with an expiration date--until the line between "pretend safe" and "real messy" blurs in the quiet hours before dawn.
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"A Lauren Blakely book is a guarantee of a good time." --Meghan Quinn, New York Times bestselling author
He ghosted me once, now he's supposed to protect me?
I don't need a bodyguard--I run a small town lavender farm, for bee's sake. But when my identical twin sister lands the movie role of a lifetime and the production rolls into my hometown, I get one anyway. And guess who the studio sends to keep the paparazzi off my porch?
The broody, tattooed protector who slipped out before our one night stand even got started.
He's all wicked mouth and heated eyes...and apparently excellent at rescuing me from sneaky photographers. At the market. At the coffee shop. At the dress shop, too. Staying mad gets harder with every save--especially once he takes up residence in my cottage. My one bedroom cottage. As in, one bed.
One night to knock out this tension turns into two. Then into secrets we should keep, and soft confessions we shouldn't say out loud. He's leaving. I'm staying. It's supposed to be a summer fling with an expiration date--until the line between "pretend safe" and "real messy" blurs in the quiet hours before dawn.