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 The Night It Happened

LIZA

“All right, ladies,” I said, clinking a spoon against my empty martini glass. “Time to make a
judgment on the book we read and discussed this evening. Do we buy a copy of the paperback for the
library, or not?”
I’d enjoyed it, but I didn’t think this particular romance was special enough—or steamy enough—
to keep a permanent copy in the library.
“I liked it,” Fern said thoughtfully. “Except I thought the sex was pretty vanilla.”
Lillian jumped, eyes wide, almost knocking over her lemon drop cocktail. My sister had always
been shy about sex, and I was still surprised she’d agreed to join our steamy-romance book club.
“Mind you, it was good sex,” Janie agreed, “but boring. How many times did they do it
missionary style?”
Janie and Fern were a good eight years younger than me, and sometimes they made me feel
ancient. When did missionary get boring enough to be called vanilla? I liked vanilla.
Or was I totally boring in bed, and that had been why Todd left me?
“I don’t object to missionary style,” Summer said, reaching for the glass pitcher from her seat.
“Oh, I’ll get that, Summer,” Annabelle said, jumping up to get the pitcher. “I don’t object to
missionary either, especially if the couple is just getting to know each other. It can take a while before
they feel comfortable moving on to, say, doggy.” She poured all six martini glasses full of lemony
goodness.
I nodded at Annabelle. She and I have been BFFs since kindergarten, and even when we don’t
agree, we can pretty much tell what the other one of us thinks about anything. “Or cowgirl.”
“Or getting tied to the bedposts with silk scarves,” Janie pointed out.
“Or spanking,” Fern said.
Okay, so maybe I was getting too old to hang out with girls in their 20s.
“It shouldn’t be all about the sex,” Lillian interjected, seizing her glass and holding it close to her
full bosom. “It’s about the romance. It’s about two souls making a connection.”
That’s what our mother had taught us about sex: that it wasn’t good unless the relationship was
good. Which might have been one reason I didn’t notice Todd pulling away from me. Our sex life
didn’t change, so I’d thought everything else was fine.
“True,” Janie said. “But sometimes when souls make a connection, so do body parts, and I want to
read about the souls bumping uglies, too.”
Lillian blushed. “That sounds so…raunchy. Sex should be beautiful.”
“Sex is beautiful,” Fern said calmly, patting dreamy Lillian on the shoulder reassuringly as if she
were Lil’s older sister, instead of being three years younger and totally unrelated. “For everyone.
Body parts and souls.”
Seeing the group veering off the beaten path made me nervous. “Um, we’re off-topic.”
“No, we’re not,” Janie said. “Talking about sex being beautiful is appropriate to the Single Girls
Romance Book Club’s purpose. I mean, ladies, seriously, we get together every month and talk about
these steamy love stories…we might as well talk about sex.”
“I meant about the decision on whether to buy the paperback,” I explained.
“Well, my vote is no,” Janie said. “The romance was nice but not heart-stopping, and the sex was
just okay.”
 “Agreed,” said Fern, Summer, and Lillian.
“All right, I’m striking this one off the list,” I said, marking through the title on its page in my
BOOK CLUB notebook.
It occurred to me to wonder about something that I’d always just assumed. “But I have to ask
y’all: isn’t most sex just ‘okay,’ or am I missing something? I just thought, you know, we’re reading
fiction.”
“You’re just jaded by your divorce,” Summer said.
I considered that, then shook my head. “No, seriously.” I took a gulp of my cocktail, letting the
tangy sweetness flow over my tongue. “I never once felt like if I didn’t have Todd right then, I’d die.
Not even when we were first married, before he turned into a jerk.”
“Well, you know…it was Todd,” Lillian said, making a face. “He never deserved you.”
“Yeah, he never did.” Annabelle nodded in agreement, sipping her own lemon drop.
Wow. My best friend and my sister both thought my husband was a waste of time. Wish they’d
been this forthcoming before I’d married him.
“You know what I think?” Fern said, smoothing over my ruffled feelings the way she often did for
members of the group. “I think we all deserve romance in our lives.”
“Not to mention great sex,” Janie said, with her delightful giggle.
“I think we all deserve love. We all dream of having it, don’t we?” Fern said, gesturing around
our circle of single women.
In the small pause that followed, Summer’s cat meowed from the back porch.
“I wish I had a true love,” Lillian said softly.
A chorus of yeahs and me toos, including my own, went around Summer’s kitchen table.
“We haven’t given up yet,” Fern said. “It’s why we read these books. And why we rely on each
other.” She gave us each her lovely warm smile.
“Has anybody ever, you know, really wished for true love?” Lillian mused in her dreamy voice,
staring into space. “Like…on a dandelion puff? Or a shooting star?”
Annabelle’s eyes met mine, and I could tell that both of us were restraining ourselves from rolling
them. Lil was an absolute sweetheart, but maybe not the most realistic person on the face of the earth.
Our mother had always said that Lil was the sweet one, while I was the organized one.
The other women exchanged glances too. “Nnnoooo,” Janie said, dragging out the word. “Not
officially.”
“Well, why don’t we?” Summer suggested, raising one shoulder.
Fern sang the first verse of the Disney theme about wishing on a star. “Anything your heart desires
will come to you…” By the end, everyone was humming along with her.
Summer’s cat meowed again, and she got up to open the back door. “Norbert? You can come in
now.”
Norbert did not come in.
“Norbert, you asshole!” Summer sounded annoyed. “If you holler to come in and I open the door,
it’s rude to run away.”
“Well, he’s a cat,” Janie pointed out. She owned a big lovable golden retriever whose energy
matched hers.
“Ladies?” Summer, still standing on the porch, stuck her head back in. “The stars are really
gorgeous tonight. Come and see.”
I liked Summer. She was a few years ahead of AnnaB and me in high school, and she had once
been someone we looked up to: stylish, put-together, elegant. Then she married a guy she met in
nearby Boone and left town with him, only to come back a few years later, somehow faded already
before the age of twenty-five. That was ten years ago, and even though her hair always looks nice—
she’s one of the best hair stylists in town—she seems depressed. AnnaB and I were so glad she
agreed to be part of this club.
One by one, the members of the book club set down our cocktail glasses and headed outside to
look up.
Dogwood Falls, located in the mountains of North Carolina, was far enough away from any large
towns that it largely escaped light pollution. The sky was dark as indigo velvet, and the stars
sprinkling it shone like white gems.
“There’s Orion,” I said, pointing at it. Janie’s face stretched immediately into a smile so wide that
I began wondering what caused it. Constellations have never given me a silly grin in all my born
days.
“It’s so beautiful tonight,” Fern said.
We were all looking up when a shooting star—a meteor—arced across the sky and fell behind
Galax Ridge. Half of us said, “Ooh,” and the other half gasped.
We stood still, in awe.
And I wished.
I wished on that shooting star with all my heart, with the same pure longing I’d had for a pony as
a child. For eight years, I’d wished on my birthday candle for one, until I’d realized that no way could
my parents buy me a pony, much less pay to feed it.
Truth? I think my heart had broken a little bit when I realized it all those years ago.
Not that I wanted a pony now. No, now I wanted true love.
I wanted a partner. A lover. Someone who’d actually make me feel like the earth moved when we
shared our bodies intimately. Someone I wouldn’t want to live without.
And I wished for that. Yes, with all my heart.
Suddenly, Norbert the Asshole Cat streaked past me into the house and the spell cast by the
shooting star was broken. We followed him back in. Sitting back down to finish our business, we
chose two books for the following month: a Kali Hart and a Lana Dash.
“We should call ourselves the Wishing Club,” Janie suggested.
What? No. “It’s a book club,” I insisted.
“It would still be a book club,” Janie said. “We would just call it the Wishing Club. We all
wished just now, didn’t we?”
Everyone nodded. Everyone.
“True love?” Lillian asked shyly. “It wasn’t just me?”
Everyone nodded again, smiles creeping onto all of our faces, and it gradually dawned on me that
we were more alike than I’d assumed.
“The Single Girls Wishing Club,” Annabelle said, her voice surprised and pleased. “I like the
sound of it.”
And since AnnaB’s enthusiasm was something we had all been waiting to see again—especially
me—for the first time in a year and a half, we jumped right on the bandwagon, expressing support for
the new club name.
The vote was unanimous: the Single Girls Wishing Club was in business.
 LIZA

“Thanks for covering the desk,” my coworker Annie says, slinging her purse over her shoulder
and jangling her car keys.
“No problem,” I tell her, and dump the stack of real-estate transfer documents that I’m currently
processing onto the reception desk. The legal firm that we work for is pretty small, with only four
attorneys, but that’s par for the course in a small town like Dogwood Falls. Locke, McGinnis,
Attorneys at Law is actually well-staffed in terms of administrative support. Annie is our office
manager; Louise and I are paralegals, and Fern is a legal secretary. Louise and Fern and I take turns
covering the front desk while Annie has lunch, and today’s my day.
I don’t mind. The interruptions that come with covering the phones and directing visitors will add
a little complexity to my own work, but it’s only for an hour. As soon as Annie gets back, I’ll finish
prepping all the paperwork for the Akers closing. Hope I can get it done before the end of the
workday, because I need to pick up the kids from school aftercare and drop them off at their dad’s —
my ex’s — house for his custody weekend.
Meanwhile, I answer the phone. Jessica Angle from the bank drops off some loan documents. I
answer the phone again. Elderly Mrs. Frankel shows up for her appointment to amend her will, and I
take her back to her attorney’s office.
The hour drags on, with me working on my own papers as I fulfill the receptionist duties.
Breakfast was skimpy, because my sweet, adorable daughter dragged her heels so long on choosing
an outfit, I barely had time to grab a yogurt out of the fridge for myself, much less pack a lunch, so my
stomach is growling. I’m checking the time on my phone, reading a quick reminder text from my son’s
teacher about the supplies he needs to bring next week, and grumpily anticipating my own lunch hour
when the outer door opens again.
My first thought is Thank God Annie’s back, I’m starving.
But it’s not my cheerful coworker. When I look up from my phone, there’s this absolute mountain
of a man standing in front of me. Dark hair. Big bushy dark beard. Dark eyes. Big biceps, manly chest,
mighty thighs.
My second thought is Holy shit, he’s big. And sexy.
My third thought is It’s been way the hell too long since I my divorce, because I could climb this
guy like the tree he resembles. He’s absolutely not my usual type, but my body doesn’t seem to care.
“May I help you?” I ask, noting that over his blue chambray button-down shirt he’s wearing a
high-visibility orange vest—and that he looks as cranky as I feel.
“Well, I hope so,” the guy says, still frowning at me. “If you could manage to stop checking your
phone, that is.”
I checked my phone for no longer than fifteen seconds.
I stand up. “Cool your jets, big boy,” I snip back, which in hindsight may not have been the most
professional thing to say. “Messages from my kids’ school take priority over whatever piece of one
single minute of your time you’ve been standing there.”
“Shouldn’t have been a piece of any minute at all,” he grouses.
I roll my eyes. “Somebody might have been in line in front of you, or I might have been answering
the phone,” I point out, now thoroughly grouchy. My stomach grumbles again, loudly. “How. May. I.
Help. You?”
He shoves a manila folder at me. “Survey report for the Harrison property.”
 I take it fast. “Ooh, I’ve been waiting for that.” I flip the folder open and page through the
document to make sure it’s complete.
It’s not. “Where’s the easement report?” I ask.
He juts his impressive beard toward the folder in my hands. “It’s in there.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Here. Have a look.”
This surveying firm is the one we always use, because they’re A) local, and B) really thorough. In
the twelve years I’ve been working in this law office, I’ve never seen an Ashe-Watauga Surveying
report to be less than immaculate.
And I’ve never seen this guy before, either. Which is surprising, because he’s older, maybe in his
late thirties or early forties.
Mountain Man takes the folder from my hands and flips through it, first fast and then slower. His
brows pull together. “It should be in there,” he mutters, still flipping pages.
I wait, trying to disguise the way my body is interested in him despite his rudeness. (And what’s
up with that, anyway?)
“Lemme go check,” he says, not meeting my eyes, and turns around. He practically runs into
Annie, who’s coming back through the front door, but manages to stop in time. “Sorry,” he mutters as
he pushes past her.
“I’m back,” she says cheerfully.
“Yeah yeah,” I say, gathering up my stuff and wondering again where I could get some lunch fast.
“I brought you something.” Annie puts a takeout bag from The Mean Grilled Cheese on the desk in
front of me.
I dive into it, pulling out a bowl of tomato-basil soup and a wrapped sandwich with the words
“cheddar-swiss” written on the paper. “I love you,” I say fervently, my mouth watering. “Bless your
heart, that was sweet of you, Annie!” I’m too hungry to wait, and I rip open the sandwich wrapper for
a big, melty, cheesy bite.
Delicious.
She shrugs, tucking a lock of graying hair behind her ear and smiling at me. “You brought me those
pumpkin-chocolate chip muffins last week when I was in too much of a rush to get breakfast. I owed
you.” The door opens behind her. “Besides, you were already cranky when I left, and I figured I’d
better feed you before you bit anybody.”
“Here it is,” Mountain Man says in that deep, whiskey-voiced baritone. “It fell out in the truck.”
He starts to hand the folder to me, then registers that Annie is back behind the desk with me, and
hesitates.
“I’ll take it,” I say around my sandwich, reaching for the folder.
One corner of his mouth curves up. “Looks like you needed that,” he says, nodding at the
sandwich in my hands. Our hands touch when I take the folder, and electricity zings through them.
I get a quick flash of what it would feel like to be naked with this guy, and I can barely restrain a
moan. I try to catch my breath, but of course I’m still chewing, and I choke.
“You okay?” he asks, still holding the folder.
I’m still holding the folder too, but I have to let go while I suffer through the choking.
“Liza, can you breathe?” Annie asks. “Raise your arms and say Praise the Lord! That always
works.”
I keep coughing until finally the bite clears and I can raise my arms (because I know Annie will
not let it go until I do). Tears are streaming down my face, and probably my eye makeup is too.
This is too embarrassing. I take the folder and my documents in one hand and my lunch in the
other, and just walk away from the front desk, mentally kicking myself all the way down the hall.
My office phone rings when I’ve set everything down. It’s Annie. “What was that all about?” she
demands. “You’re never rude.”
“He got on my bad side,” I say. “Hope I never see him again.”
She snorts. “Fat chance of that. And remember to wipe your fingers—don’t get grease on the
paperwork or Mr. Locke will have a hissy fit.”
“I’ll keep it clean,” I assure her.
Thing is, I can’t quite keep my thoughts in the same condition. They’ve gone all the way to dirty.
Filthy.
Nasty.
Pretty much pornographic.
Me and Hot Rude Surveyor Mountain Man, naked. That is, nekkid, which means you don’t have
any clothes on and you’re up to somethin’, and in my mind we’re up to all kindsa things.
Whoa.
I really have been single too long.
 LIZA

I zoom out of work at 5:05 p.m., rush by the after-school program to get Mason and Frannie, and
then zoom them home to grab their kid-size suitcases for their weekend at their dad’s house. Which
we should’ve done earlier, but I wasted a lot of time this morning telling Frannie that she could not
wear footie pajamas to kindergarten.
Honestly, life has been chaos since she was born. I doubled down on my organization, because
it’s hard to be a mother and run a household and hold down a job.
Todd got more and more unhappy. By the time Frannie was two and her older brother was five,
Todd had moved out.
Which makes me wonder why he married me in the first place. We’d been together since high
school, and he knew I liked things shipshape.
To this day I don’t know. He wouldn’t even go to counseling with me, just insisted we hammer out
a custody arrangement and a generous financial settlement for the kids’ needs. Not a month after the
divorce was final, he married Amber.
I don’t want him back. But I feel…useless, as a wife and mother. I mean, doesn’t everybody want
a well-managed family life? Doesn’t everybody want money in the bank? Doesn’t everybody like
clean sheets and menus planned ahead of time and a schedule for things not to miss on vacation?
No?
For the hundredth time, I consider that my mother, herself Queen of the Organized, may possibly,
maybe, have lied to me, just a tad, about what men want in their family life. That my dad is one of the
few who wanted that…and Todd was not.
Well, either that or I was bad in bed.
I drop Mason and Frannie off at Todd’s house, where he nods to me and greets the children,
escorting them to the house after I hug them goodbye. I expect they’ll spend the weekend eating
nothing but hot dogs and pancakes with not a green vegetable in sight, and watching TV or playing
videogames or going to the amusement park. Dad weekends, for them, are Fun Times.
I’m the boring, mean one always on a schedule.
Sometimes I’d love to hand over a little of my control to someone I could trust to not fuck
everything up. Somebody who takes charge, somebody who will figure out what needs to be done and
lead us all through life with a smile, getting things done without having to crack down on the fun.
I hardly even feel like a woman. As difficult as it was to parent and work full-time while Todd
and I were together, it’s even harder as a single parent. Most days I get up exhausted and go to bed
exhausted.
And alone.
I get another full-body shiver as a memory of how it felt when my hand touched Mountain Man’s
hand. Yeah. I’ve been alone too long.
I do get time for myself once a month for Book Club—excuse me, Wishing Club— with the girls,
when Mom and Dad take the kids for the night. It’s only on weekends when Todd and his free-spirit
second wife have the kids that I get to do anything I want.
Which is, mainly, sleep.
And laundry. And grocery shopping. And updating my to-do list.
But not this weekend. I am in dire need of exercise, and also of quiet. I am not going to sit around
my lonely, kid-free house and ponder how a man I’ve barely met can make my body so eager to be
touched. I’m not going to spend any time thinking about that Mountain Man and his mighty thighs. Or
his beard.
I’m going to go hiking. In the mountains. By myself.
I used to hike a lot as a teenager. My sister Lillian and I used to belong to a hiking club, and
although I swear she only went on the hikes so she could imagine herself somewhere else, I went in
order to challenge myself. Could I make it to the top of this mountain? Could I do it faster than the star
of the basketball team?
Hell, yeah, I could.
And I bet I can still take on Halfmoon Knob, too. I’m getting my old hiking boots out from the
back of the closet when my BFF Annabelle calls. “Hey,” she says. “I just got off work. Wanna get
together?”
“Absolutely! Your place or mine?”
“Mine. I have rum and limes for Cuba Libres. You want to get the pizza?”
AnnaB and I have been best friends since elementary school. She’s redheaded where I’m blonde,
curvy on top where I’m curvy all over, and sweet where I’m more assertive, but we’ve always had
each other’s backs. We roomed together at Appalachian State University. We were in each other’s
weddings. She was there for me when Todd left me three years ago. I was there for her when she was
having trouble conceiving, and there for her again when her dirtbag husband got tired of her and left
her for his coworker.
There have been a lot of tears between us, but tons of laughter too.
Forty minutes later I’m flopping onto Annabelle’s couch and taking a big gulp of my cocktail.
Before we can decide whether to watch a baking show or the newest season of Bridgerton, we wind
up talking about our days at work.
Turns out AnnaB met her sexy neighbor at the ER today. She can’t stop talking about him: his
chiseled jaw, his stunning eyes, his smile…and the way he was so concerned for his daughter.
“Hold up,” I say. “Daughter? Is he divorced?”
She sips her drink and looks away. “He says his wife died two years ago.”
I sit up straighter. “So he’s a single dad?”
She nods, not looking at me.
“Oh my.” And then I find myself telling her about the cranky, sexy surveyor I met today. I tell her
everything: his strong body, those dark eyes, the salty attitude…and the way I wanted to rip off his
clothes right there.
“Oh my,” Annabelle says in return, finally meeting my gaze.
“You don’t think…” I start to say, then shake my head. “No.”
“The Wishing Club?” Her eyes widen. “That night we wished on a star?”
I shake my head again. “No. I mean, yeah, I wished for true love, but what we’ve got right here,
that’s just attraction. That’s all. We’re lonely divorced women. Men look good to us.”
I hold my glass out to hers to clink, but she’s looking very serious. “Liza…I think I want to
believe.”
I want to believe, too. But I don’t really think it could happen.
 BURNEY

Finally the weekend is here.

It’s still warm here in the mountains of North Carolina, and it’s pretty awesome to be back here
where I grew up.
Well, not here here. I’m from Boone, NC, not far away, but when I got out of the Army this spring,
I didn’t want to live in the city anymore—any city, whether it was LA or the small city of my birth. I
wanted mountains. I wanted privacy. I wanted to rely on myself.
So I bought this little cabin off the beaten path on Halfmoon Knob. It had been some old codger’s
hunting cabin back in the day, and his heirs sold it for cheap. Why? Simple: It’s rustic. It’s small.
When I bought it the roof leaked and there was no insulation whatsoever, so I had to fix both those
things for it to be suitable for winter living.
It’s pretty far off the grid. There’s electricity, but no landline, no cable TV, and for damn sure no
fucking internet. Water comes from a well. I have cell phone service since there’s a tower on top of
nearby Galax Ridge. I did put in a really nice shower, but that’s the only real luxury. There’s also a
sturdy wood-burning stove, for when the power goes out.
Meanwhile, taking care of my daily needs keeps my mind occupied when I’m not working. I
earned my bachelor’s degree in surveying while I was still on active duty—you can get a lot done
online—but the state still requires two years of work experience under the supervision of a licensed
surveyor before you can apply for your own license. My coworkers at Ashe-Watauga Surveying are
good guys.
I still look forward to weekends.
It’s been a rough week. Although I retired from the US Army after 20 years in service with a rank
of First Sergeant, I found myself making mistakes from time to time during the work week. My boss
told me not to worry, I was doing well for a newbie whose experience was all in the classroom and
I’d pick up on all the details really soon. Still, I expect better of myself. The Army doesn’t give out
E7s like candy, and I spent most of my adult life being responsible and high-speed. It galls me to
make mistakes.
Like not seeing that a page had fallen out of the folder with our survey report that I dropped off at
that law office in Dogwood Falls yesterday. Stupid mistake.
It was probably worse because I got sent, like any dumbass private, to drop it off and then pick up
lunch for the guys, and I was fucking starving. Send a hangry man to run errands and he can get a mite
impatient.
And then that woman at the law office.
I walked in the door and first of all, she was gorgeous, with those blue eyes and those red-velvet
lips. Second, she was on her phone instead of taking the damn report out of my hands so I could get on
with picking up lunch.
And then she sassed me right back with that smart, delicious-looking mouth, and I got an
unexpected woody right there in my professional cargo pants. I was thinking about what that mouth
might look like, with me as her personal lollipop, when she told me there was a page missing.
Only long experience with keeping my cool under pressure kept me from loosing a string of
expletives.
And frankly, only seeing Miss Delicious Smart Mouth going for her sandwich like a starving
piranha made me sympathize with her attitude. Poor sexy broad, she was hangry too. Two big bites
calmed her right down to being pleasant with me, and it was honestly one of the most erotic things
I’ve ever seen on a fully-dressed woman. I can’t really explain why I suddenly felt such tenderness
for her, but I did.
Not to mention accidentally touching her hand. That made me imagine touching more of her.
All of her.
It was something of a shock. I mean, sure, I’ve had girlfriends and hookups and friends with
benefits, and I’ve wanted all of them. But not like this.
I haven’t felt like this—horny, intrigued, and tender—for anybody since my wife. Ex-wife,
actually. I married my high school sweetheart right after I got back from Basic Training, and we
stayed together four years, until I found out that Ashley was cheating on me while I was deployed.
She’d be all sweet with me on the phone, send me I-miss-you messages, say she couldn’t wait to
get me home…and then the day after I did get home, she told me she wanted a divorce. She’d fallen in
love with someone else, she said.
It broke my heart, I guess. I haven’t been able to really trust a woman since. I’m wary of women
who talk sweet and act nasty.
And I’m used to being alone. It’s better than getting my heart broken again.
I don’t know why that woman at the law office has got me going like this. I don’t know her. She’s
got a sharp tongue. And just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean she’s good in bed, or even good for me
at all.
But I know she is. I just know. And I know that somehow she’s important to me, even though I
don’t know much about her.
She has kids. She doesn’t wear a wedding ring, but she does wear a silver ring on her right hand,
so it’s a good guess she’s single. Her coworker called her Liza. She likes grilled cheese. She has a
smart mouth.
I couldn’t help thinking about that smart mouth, that delicious mouth, in the shower this morning.
I’m a little ashamed to say that thinking about that mouth led to thinking about how it would feel on my
cock, and that led to stroking it, thinking about her mouth on me, and that led to painting the shower
wall with my hot cream, coming so hard my eyes nearly crossed.
I ponder how I can run into Miss Smart Mouth again while I’m chopping wood for the stove. It’s a
glorious day, with golden sun and light breeze, just the kind of weather I missed while I was away
from these mountains.
Drop by the office on my lunch break? After work? Bring her flowers? Nah, that’s creepy.
Bring her lunch?
My ideas keep getting worse. And I’m still not sure why I feel like pursuing this woman, when I
haven’t felt the need to have one in my life for so many years.
I finish chopping wood and then stacking it, but I’m not ready to go back in the house. It’s too
gorgeous a day. I decide to grab a foraging bag and go for a wander in the woods near my cabin.
There are mushrooms out there, and I suspect I can find some chicken-of-the-woods if I try. Maybe
some hickory nuts, if the squirrels haven’t harvested them all. Native black walnuts, too. And I think I
saw some persimmon trees farther down the Halfmoon Knob trail, so unless the deer have gotten to
them first, that’s a good bet.
But when I come down the trail, I hear suspicious noises. Grunting and stomping make me
worried; our black bears aren’t usually as dangerous as grizzlies but they’re dangerous enough. I go a
little farther down and see something that catches my eye.
It’s a flash of hot pink, a color unnatural in my mountain woodlands. Hiker. And the sounds are
definitely those made by a bear. Oh shit.
I go a little farther, and what I see then nearly stops my heart.
It’s a half-grown cub and its mother. Mama’s pissed off, stamping and lowering her head like
she’s going to charge, snorting and growling. And there’s Miss Smart Mouth herself, eyes wide and
luscious body tense, getting ready to run.
Running would be a disaster. Bears have strong predator instincts—if you run, they chase. Period.
“Don’t run,” I tell her, hoping Liza will listen.
I step in front of her and make myself big by standing tall and stretching out my arms. I speak with
a loud, firm voice. I don’t approach. I don’t make eye contact.
I hear Liza stepping up the trail in a measured, calm fashion. That’s good. She listened. When her
footsteps fade, I start backing up myself. Mama Bear stops pawing and stomping and snorting. I back
up farther. Mama turns away and checks on her cub, and that’s when I finally start breathing right
again.
And now I’m pissed off. This was dangerous. My woman could have gotten herself hurt.
 LIZA

Saturday morning is gorgeous: cool but sunny, perfect for a hike up Halfmoon Knob. I pack a
lunch, take extra underwear and a jacket in my backpack, and sunscreen up, putting my hair in a
ponytail for ease.
My boots feel a little stiff, but I expect they’ll loosen up as I walk. I shoot Annabelle a quick text
letting her know where I’ll be and when I’ll be back, and then I set off for the trail that goes past
Galax Ridge and up to the Knob.
Haven’t been up here in years, I muse as I park in the unofficial, graveled wide space just off
Galax Ridge Road and lock my car, taking a final swig from my water bottle before stashing it in my
pack.
I enjoy the light breeze, the blue early-autumn sky, the bright splashes of wildflower color and the
long yellow leaves of bitternut, among the first to change color this time of year. I watch a hawk soar
past in the sky, and see squirrels and chipmunks scurry from its shadow.
While I walk, I repeat a mantra that my sister gave me to combat my perfectionism: I am enough.
As I hike higher, along the little-used trail up Halfmoon Knob, I see a skunk trundle ahead of me on its
sturdy squat legs, and stop walking until it goes well off the trail.
It’s beautiful here on the mountain. Quiet. Engaging.
At home, everything is as neat as possible, ready for my children’s chaos to begin again when
Todd drops them off after supper on Sunday. My work is complete, or at a stopping point, and I don’t
have to worry about it until Monday. I switch to a new mantra, reminding myself not to dwell on the
things that need to be done.
I am more than my achievements.
My legs are getting a little tired, but my mind is relaxing the longer I’m out here. I think about my
worth as a person. As a person in a woman’s body. As a heart who needs love.
My relationships need connection, not perfection.
At last I can just let go. No stress. It’s just me on this mountain trail and I am me, and I am enough.
And then I see the black bear cub. I stop and watch it for a moment, charmed by how cute and
round and furry it is. Maybe half-grown, but definitely a juvenile, I’m thinking, when suddenly I
realize I can’t see Mama Bear.
Oh shit.
I hear rustling. Suddenly, there she is. Oh shit.
I’m not between her and her cub, but she’s staring right at me, stomping the ground once or twice
and snorting angrily. I need to get out of here.
Run? Play dead?
Or is playing dead for fending off grizzly bear attacks?
Is it different from black bear attacks?
Oh shit. I tense myself to run, but which way should I go? Up the mountain or back down?
I keep hearing rustling nearby, and then suddenly there’s a man at my back, pushing me behind
him. He’s a big guy, and he immediately raises his arms and spreads his legs, not approaching the
bear but standing between me and it.
“No, don’t run. Back away,” he says to me. “Hey bear!” he yells, much louder. “Nobody’s gonna
hurt you or your baby. Back off!”
Mama Bear snorts again and aggressively leans our direction, but doesn’t move. The cub goes
behind a bush, peeping out warily.
“If you got bear spray, now would be a great time to use it,” he mutters to me.
“Don’t have it,” I confess quietly. “Which way?” I whisper to the guy’s flannel shirt-clad back.
“Up or down?” Either direction on the trail is perpendicular to the bear and her cub, but directly
away from them would require going directly down a steep slope.
“Up the trail,” he says, and waves his arms again. “I’m serious, bear!” he yells in that loud
baritone. “Leave us alone! Go your way, and we’ll leave you alone!”
Mama Bear snorts one more time and stamps, but that’s all I see as I side-step up the trail, trying
not to run. In just a moment, I’m around a bend and out of sight.
Then I hear my savior stomping up the trail, making a lot of noise with his feet and talking loudly.
“Go back to your acorns and nobody gets hurt, bear. Leave us alone and we’ll go away. Go chomp up
all those nuts, bear.”
When he comes around the curve of the mountain, I recognize him.
It’s Tall Oak Man, the surveyor who was so rude to me yesterday. Crazy Beard Man. Sexy
Mountain Man…the man my body wanted to rub itself up against. I can feel my eyes getting big and
my mouth opening in surprise, but he speaks to me first.
“What the hell were you doing up here without bear spray? And hiking alone? It’s dangerous. And
you never run from a bear, what were you thinking? It activates their prey drive. Are you crazy, or
just stupid?”
I sputter a little, my brain short-circuited by the fear that hasn’t quite gone away yet, and by the
attraction that keeps distracting me—and my own sudden anger. My heart’s beating very fast.
“What, are you the bear whisperer?” I snarl back at him. “Understand how they think, do you?
You look enough like a bear.”
That’s just occurred to me. He’s big. Burly. Broad-chested. Bearded. Black-browed.
Hella sexy, too, but that’s totally beside the point. Looks like a bear. I cross my arms and glare at
him.
He crosses his arms and glares back. “I ought to turn you ‘cross my knee and paddle you till you
holler. You coulda died,” he mutters, his local accent suddenly thicker than I’ve heard it before.
“Nobody spanks me,” I spit back, and turn on my heel to stride up the trail—away from him, away
from the bears, away from my own fear, away from my body’s arousal.
But I only get two steps before I stumble over a root on the trail, and roll my ankle. “Ow! Fuck!
Ow!” I mutter, going to my knees.
Behind me, Mountain Man—Big Bear Man—whatever his name is—growls. “Now what, you
stubborn woman?”
I rub my ankle. It hurts, but I don’t think it’s broken. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Just gimme a minute.”
“You are not allowed to hurt yourself,” he says, frowning deeply, and I jerk in surprise. That’s a
thing I’ve said to my kids, when they’ve done something reckless and idiotic like trying to walk on the
crossbar of the swingset or crossing the street without holding my hand.
“Come on,” he says, and bending down, hauls me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I screech, startled at being upside down, and being so close to a male body this
firm and imposing.
“Nope. Gotta check on your ankle.” Then he slaps my ass—not hard, just barely enough to sting
through my cargo pants, and damn if I don’t swoon just a tiny bit. “I’m takin’ you to my house.”
 BURNEY

I carry Liza over my shoulder all the way up to my cabin. It’s not far, but the whole way I’m trying
not to think about the way her round little ass felt under my hand. I’m trying not to remember how I
jerked one out in the shower this morning thinking about her mouth.
I think she’ll screech at me for that little smack, but she doesn’t. She relaxes, which is interesting.
She shuts up.
For at least two minutes. Then she speaks, her voice calm but resigned. “You haul women off to
your place a lot?”
“Never.”
“How far is it?”
“’Bout half a mile.”
“You’re local, aren’t you? You sound local.”
“Yep.”
“Me too. Born and raised in Dogwood Falls.”
Her accent’s similar to mine. “I’m from Boone,” I tell her. “Spent twenty years in the Army, but
you know what they say. You can take a boy out of the Smokies, but you can’t take the Smokies out of
his mouth.”
“You live up here?”
“Yep.”
“By yourself?”
“Yep.”
“No wife and kids?”
“No kids. Divorced for the past fifteen years.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since I got out of the Army six months ago. Tried living in Boone, but that was too much city for
me.”
She snorts. “Twenty thousand people living in Boone and that was too much for you?”
“Hell yeah. I can work anywhere, but I wanted to live away from the crowd. Had my fill of
cramped Army housing.”
I don’t admit to her that sometimes I get lonely. I can call my Army buddies, Skype with them, or
have a brewski with my coworkers or high school friends…but lately I’ve been wondering about
having a woman in my life again.
Maybe this time it’ll stick.
Maybe this woman. This one with her smart mouth and her sharp blue eyes. I don’t think she’s the
kind to lie to me.
“What are you going to do to me?” she asks, in a small voice that doesn’t sound like the assertive
woman I met yesterday. The change in her is enough to make me wonder once more what she’d look
like on her knees with her sweet mouth full of my dick, and that’s enough to give me a serious boner.
Wanting this woman is what’s been missing from my life.
“I can think of several things,” I say, “offhand, but for starters, I’ll make sure you haven’t sprained
your ankle.”
Okay, it’s a lame excuse. I want my hands on my woman. I want her in my house. I want to
apologize for being impatient and snarky with her yesterday. I want to get to know her. I want to kiss
her. Kiss her and fuck her and, yeah, I wanna marry her and live with her.
I want to love her.
“Hold tight.” I walk up the two steps to the cabin, bracing Liza on my shoulder with my hand on
her sweet curvy ass. Any second she could blister my ears about it, but she doesn’t.
Guess she’s as attracted as I am. Things could definitely be worse.
I take her inside and set her down gently on my couch, kneeling to check on her ankle and not
trusting myself to look at her face. What if she hates me?
Worse, what if she’s actually married or with somebody and she’s willing to get a little on the
side with me? That would suck.
“I don’t even know your name,” she says in a wondering voice as I’m untying her hiking boot, and
I finally look up.
Her cheeks are pink. Unlike yesterday, she’s not wearing lipstick, but that pretty mouth of hers is
full and plush and oh so kissable. No makeup at all, but those blue eyes blaze out of her face like
stars.
Shoulder-length light brown hair with light streaks, like she’s been in the sun. Hot pink tee. Navy
cargo pants that hit her mid-calf. Luscious tits under the shirt, even more luscious ass and hips under
the pants, curves everywhere. Younger than me, but not ridiculously so. Sure, it’s a mom bod, but it’s
a very very fuckable mom bod.
I only realize I’m staring when she says, “Name. What’s your name, Mountain Man?”
I snort out a laugh, startled. “Mountain Man?”
“Would you prefer me to call you Rude Surveyor?” she says in that sass-mouth that has me
instantly hard once again.
“Burney Calderwood,” I say, and make a mock-bow. “At your service, my lady.”
“Burney?” she questions. “That’s a name?”
“My mama was a Burney. And you’re Liza.” She looks adorably confused, so I explain. “The
other lady who came into the office brought you food and called you Liza.”
“Liza Fields,” she says, and then she gives me this adorable grin. “My mama was a McMillan
who married a Fields. I married a Smith, but I gave the name back when he divorced me for a younger
woman.”
Thank all the gods she’s single. “Your ex is a fucking moron,” I growl. I’m still touching her
ankle. I don’t think it’s swollen. “How’s your ankle feel?”
“Not too bad, actually,” she says, and grins bigger. “I think you forestalled any serious injury by
carrying me.”
“I might’ve got a little ahead of myself,” I confess, wrapping my hand around her ankle.
“Caveman style.”
There. That’s pretty much a declaration of interest, if she’s paying attention.
She sucks in a breath through her nose, and her pupils expand. She’s paying attention.
She’s interested.
“You want me to run you back home, Liza?” I ask, loving the way her name feels in my mouth.
“Your kids waiting on you?”
She shakes her head, not looking away from me. “No, they’re at their dad’s this weekend.”
I exhale through my nose, frustrated. “And you went hiking by yourself like the most adorable
idiot that ever drew breath.”
She sits up straight, losing her smile. “I told my sister where I was going.”
“Didn’t think to take bear spray, either,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “You coulda broke your
ankle, you coulda surprised a rattlesnake and got bit, you coulda got lost, you coulda died.” By the
end of it, my voice is shaking.
“What’s it to you?” she snaps defensively, crossing her arms and kicking her foot to let me know
my hand’s unwelcome.
I take a big breath and take the plunge. “For what it’s worth, Liza Fields, I think you’re my girl,
and I hate that you almost got yourself hurt.”
Her jaw drops, and she can’t speak for a moment. When she finally does, her voice is awed and
tremulous. “You think I’m your girl?”
I look deep into those crystal blue eyes. “More to the point, I think I’m your man.”
We stare at each other for a long, long moment, and I swear I can see the future in those blue
depths. She exhales shakily, blinks twice, and her eyelashes are suddenly spiky and wet.
“Want to stay this afternoon and find out if I’m right?”
I hold my breath for her answer.
“I want,” she says, and stops to inhale, those crystalline eyes of hers intense. “I want you to kiss
me.”
 LIZA

I confess that I want him to kiss me.

He doesn’t answer. Those dark, dark eyes of his devour me. I can see his big chest rising and
falling, fast, like he can’t get enough oxygen. Finally, when I’m about to die of embarrassment and
lust, he says something. “You sure?”
His voice is pitched low. Deep. Husky. My body responds to the sound of it as much as to the
sight of him.
“Kiss me,” I plead again.
He says nothing, but those dark eyes flare into black flame, and he steps into my space. Puts a big
finger under my chin. Leans close. I can smell him, all woodsmoke and male skin. He leans closer.
I don’t know where this is going to end up…but I’m liking the start of it.
His lips are softer than I expected. More delicious. His hand curves around my jaw as the kiss
goes deeper and my mouth opens for his. I melt.
I mean, I melt. From the inside out. My head goes back, my arms go around his neck, my nipples
come to attention, my core liquefies, my thighs relax open, my lower back sways, and every part of
my body surrenders.
A little kissing and I’m dying to have this man everywhere.
The kisses get deeper, stronger. Sweeter. His hands are in my hair now, and he’s closer to me,
kneeling on the floor in front of the couch, and I feel like a teenager again, absolutely swamped with
sensation and unable to think about consequences. I wrap my legs around his back.
He growls in his throat, not stopping the kiss, and I’m even more desperate to have all of him. I
love the feeling of this big beard on my face, highlighting how masculine he is.
He pulls back a little way, trailing his lips over to my right ear, kissing the lobe and then
delicately licking it, and I can’t help moaning.
“Just kissing?” he whispers into my ear.
I can’t speak. I moan again.
“Or do you want more, Liza?” The whisper goes deep into his throat, and his hand strokes me
from my shoulder down to my collarbone.
I can feel my nipples straining against my sports bra. Straining toward his touch. “More,” I
whisper back, my voice hoarse and breathy and desperate.
“You want me to touch you, don’t you?”
I nod.
“You want me to touch your beautiful body,” he says, that deep whisper going even huskier.
“Touch me,” I plead.
For two seconds, as he moves back and looks into my eyes, the back of my mind is remembering
that I shouldn’t be doing this. That I’m a mother. That I have responsibilities.
And then I remember that this is my life.
This is my body.
I get to choose who I want to share it with.
And Burney the mountain man is who I choose.
“Gonna make you feel good, darlin’,” he says, and smiles at me, suddenly looking younger and
less fierce. Slides his big hands over my breasts, massaging them gently through my shirt. “Gonna
give you what you need.”
 He bends forward again and kisses my neck, up to my other earlobe, and I moan again, weak with
pleasure. His big warm hands slip under my tee-shirt, up to my sports bra, and I’m so glad I opted for
the zip-front one so I don’t have to wrestle it off. He’s still cupping and massaging my tits, licking my
neck and my ear, and I just unzip the bra and let the girls go.
“Oh, fuck, your nipples are so tight,” he says into my ear, teasing them and making me purr with
delight before he takes one into his mouth, licking and sucking while he plays with the other.
“I like your beard,” I whisper faintly, nearly drunk with overwhelming sensuality.
He pulls back enough to grin into my eyes. “Just wait, then, honey.” And then he’s licking my other
nipple, and I’m pulling his torso closer with my legs. I want all my clothes off, I want him between
my thighs, I want it all.
This time when he presses close, I can feel him hard inside his jeans, a hot stiff bar pressing
against my belly. I unbutton his flannel shirt down as far as I can reach, enjoying the manly hair on his
massive chest. I play with his nipples a little too, excited by the way they’re already tight under my
fingers.
I have all kinds of ideas of how this should go. I’m about to tell him when he forestalls me, sitting
back to kneel on the floor again. “Liza darlin’, you just relax,” he says in that sexy gravelly voice.
“This is all for you.” He pulls my shirt off. Eases the bra off my shoulders. Tosses it aside.
Kisses my belly, with a wicked grin up at me, then unlaces my hiking boots and slips them off.
Then my socks.
Then he unbuttons my cargo pants. Unzips them. Opens them up. Lifts my ass off the couch to slip
my pants down to my ankles, then flings them onto the braided rug, and I’m sitting on this man’s couch
in my sensible cotton bikini briefs which are so damp they’re sticking to me.
He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and strips it off, showing off the muscles that have been hiding
underneath. I can’t help wanting to touch. Ahh…soft skin under crisp chest hair, firm muscles, all
man.
“Uh-uh,” he says, leaning forward again to press me against the back of the couch and kissing me
until we’re both breathless again. “Nope. This is for you. Relax, Liza.”
His fingers are gentle and hot against my crotch, pressing softly there. “Baby, you’re so wet. You
need this. You need to be touched.” He kisses me. Flicks a thumb across my eager button, straining
against the cotton. “Oh yeah. Let me make you feel so good.”
I make an impatient noise, reaching for the waistband of my underwear.
“Uh-uh,” he says again. “No. I do this. You lay back.”
I should be annoyed at his taking charge, but I’m not. I’m even more turned on by his taking
charge.
He kisses down my body, lingering at my nipples while he massages my pussy through my panties.
Just when I can’t stand the touch of the fabric anymore, he pulls it aside and slips a finger from the top
of my split down to my soaking-wet core.
I almost come up off the couch, the way my back arches in need.
“Beautiful,” he says. “So wet.” He strokes my own wetness from my center up to my little bud,
and I can’t stop making noise with every sensual stroke. “What a pretty pink pussy you have,
sweetheart, it needs some love.”
It does. Oh, it does.
Then he slips my underwear off me and lays me open for him. And the first touch of his tongue on
my button almost slays me, but he keeps going. Licking me with short, light touches, his fingers gentle
but firm on my secret lips, slipping into my entrance then back up to the lower edge of my clit.
 Those beard hairs tickle, in such a good way.
He hits a rhythm that stirs me so much I can feel my orgasm coming fast. “Don’t stop!” I beg.
He keeps going. I start coming, my body hovering in ecstasy for long seconds before I crash down
into the clutch and spasm of my climax, my mouth making noises I wasn’t sure I could even make.
When I’m coming down and the stimulation is too much, I try to close my thighs. He sits back,
wiping my juices off his beard with one hand while he grins at me, and that’s so fucking sexy. “Feel
better?”
I nod, unable to make words. I want him.
“Want another one?” he asks, putting his hands on my thighs and spreading them apart again. “I
cannot get enough of this gorgeous pussy.”
“I want you,” I whisper.
“This is for you,” he says for what, the third time?
“I want you in me,” I say, my voice stronger now. I sit halfway up and reach for him, pulling him
to me with arms and legs, kissing his mouth. He tastes like me. “Don’t you want me?”
“Oh fuck yes.” He kisses me like he’s starving. “But honey, are you sure?”
“I need it,” I confess between kisses. “Please.”
One long last kiss, and he gets up from his knees, bundling me into his arms and carrying me
across the small cabin to the bed near the fireplace.
 BURNEY

Oh, I want this woman. Miss Smart Mouth is every bit as responsive and beautiful as I’d dreamed
she’d be, and then some.
And I can’t get enough of her juicy split peach.
I put her on my bed and then pull her toward me by the hips, intending to go headfirst back in, but
she stops me. “No. I want to see you naked, Mountain Man.”
Okay, I like that idea. I unbuckle my belt, kick off my boots. Ditch my jeans and socks. Give my
aching staff a squeeze through my boxers. “Mountain Man? That nickname’s gotta go.”
“Well, it’s better than Papa Bear,” she says crossly, staring at my bulge.
“Papa Bear?” I tug my boxers a little lower, teasing her.
“Take those off. You know,” she says breathlessly. “You’re big and strong and hairy. Like a bear?”
“Papa Bear,” I repeat, and strip my choners off, letting my monster swing as I step all the way out
of them and watching her eyes get big. “I kinda like that.” I kneel on the bed and once again haul her
my way by the hips. “You know what Papa Bears like?” She’s looking up at me with her lips parted
and pink, her tongue wetting the lower lip. “They just love to lick the honeypot.”
She catches her breath at the first touch of my tongue to her little bean, then relaxes. I feel her
thighs muscles loosen and raise my head enough to say, “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”
“You’re going to spoil me,” she says on a whine, but she spreads her legs wider.
I don’t bother answering, or at least not with words. I taste and tease her, loving the way she
seems to melt into the bed except for the tension in her hips. Gradually she begins to moan and move
her pelvis against my mouth, and I pick up the pace. Hold her hips tighter. Look up to see her head
thrown back, her hands at her breasts, her pussy thrusting up to meet me.
I want her so bad. So much.
I remember how she reacted to my slapping her ass when I picked her up outside, and I do it
again. Not hard enough to really hurt her, and I aim for the fleshiest part of her very sexy round ass,
where all the vibrations travel right to her split. She moans louder. Moves faster. I can’t help grinding
on the mattress a little, wanting her so bad and so much.
I slap her ass cheek again, and her moans become long cries of pleasure, and then her sweet
channel convulses with her climax. It seems to go on a long time. I keep licking her, but gently,
finishing with a kiss on her clit when she lets out a deep satisfied sigh.
“Come up here,” she says, arm over her eyes.
“In a sec.” I reach into the top drawer of the nightstand and fish around in there for the small stack
of condoms I know is there. I bought them a couple of years ago, and I hope to hell they haven’t
expired.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking the expiration date on these, Miss Mouth.” I grunt in satisfaction, seeing they’re still in
date. “Nah, we’re good.”
She raises her head. “How long has it been for you?”
I count in my head. “Nineteen months. Short term girlfriend when I was still active duty.” I smile
down at her and toss the strip of three onto the bed. “It’s been a while for you, huh?”
“Close to three years,” she says with regret.
“I can’t believe he let you go,” I tell her, lying down beside her and feeling the skin of her hip
silky-soft against my desperately hard cock. “He’s a fucking idiot, but I guess I gotta be grateful he let
you go.”
“I didn’t get to tell you this before,” she says, reaching for my erection, “but this thing is a
beautiful monster. When do I get a lick?” My eyes roll back in my head a little, and she laughs.
“Would now would be good?”
“Okay, I’ll cop to fantasizing about you and that mouth of yours within minutes of meeting you,” I
say, pretending to be grouchy about it. “More than once.”
She slides down the bed, looking at me. Smiling. Licking her lips. My dick bobs, and she grins.
“Well, that’s the kind of anticipation that I like.”
And then she slays me with that damn smart mouth of hers, all soft and slick and sucking pressure.
When she adds her stroking hand, it gets a little too intense. “Back off a little bit, honey, you’re gonna
make me blow.”
She raises her head, her beautiful lips dark pink and wet, and my shaft throbs again. “You just
gave me two orgasms that way.”
I shake my head. “No. When I come, Liza, it will be inside you. I want you so much.”
Her eyes are so warm when she smiles.
I grab a condom packet and rip it open, smoothing it on as fast as I can manage while not tearing
it. “You want to ride? Or you want me to plow you on your back?” I can see her pupils expand while
I’m talking, and I know I’m on the right track. She likes this sweet, dirty talk. “Or take you from
behind, with my hands all over that beautiful ass of yours?”
“Yes,” she says, and I take that to mean yes to all of it.
I lie back, my eager cock ready for her. “So ride first.” I take her hands as she eases that hot deep
valley of hers over my shaft. I watch her arch her back, pressing those beautiful bouncy tits into my
palms as she sinks down onto me. “Ah, fuck, you’re so hot and slick, Liza.” I can hear how husky my
voice has gotten, feeling the exquisite pleasure of her deep channel even through the condom.
“All for you, Papa Bear,” she says, moving deliberately on my cock, her voice breathy.
“That how you ride, sweetheart? You like it slow?” I rub her tight nipples with my palms.
“What if I do?” she asks, her eyelids lowered and her full lips parted as she rocks back and forth,
grinding on me. Fuck, she is sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Or even imagined. “What if that’s how I
want it?”
“You ride my pony however you want, girl. It’s all yours.”
I can almost feel her getting hotter. I’m so hard that it’s taking all my concentration to keep from
busting my nut. I start doing math in my head, trying to keep control. I reach for her cleft to rub at her
little pearl, my hand riding on her groin as she rides mine. “Is that good, Liza? I want you to come for
me, sweetheart.”
She nods, her head tipping back as she bites her lower lip. “Yes. Yes. Like that.” She rocks
against me again and again, while I bite my own lip and try to hold on.
I can see her trying hard, and I can see that she needs to take charge of her desires without
worrying about doing it wrong. “Honey. Liza. Listen to me.” She stops moving, looking at me, her
eyes wide. “Let go, sweetheart. You do what you want. Please yourself. Whatever you want, you got
it. I’ll give it to you. You deserve it.”
She stares at me for a moment. “You mean that, don’t you?” she whispers.
I nod. “It’s all for you, sweetheart. I’m all for you.”
Funny how saying this makes me feel so…open. Like an old scar just cracked open, and new fresh
skin is underneath. Like she’s healed me.
I can almost see her make the decision as she moves my hand to her hip. “Hold on to me, Papa
Bear. I want to ride that pony hard.” She starts slow, but within minutes she’s moving faster and a lot
harder, pressing against me and panting with effort.
A low tremor starts at the base of my spine as I’m almost at the point of no return. She cries out,
that lush mouth of hers opening to let out her moans and that tight channel of hers milking me in her
pleasure, and I’m there. I’m already gone. I’m losing my grip, I’m flying off the handle, I’m giving her
every drop of my juice and every inch of my love, soaring into a volcano of feeling.
When the ringing in my ears stops, I hear her sigh, a deep, satisfied sound. I reach to the nightstand
for a tissue and bundle the condom up in it, tossing it to the side of the bed so I can gather Liza into
my arms and put her head on my shoulder. “Comfortable, honey?”
“Mm-hm.” She nestles closer, her lovely soft breasts pressing against my side.
“You needed that, huh?”
“I did.” Her voice is sweet and soft like honey dripping. “You did, too. I can tell.”
I smile to myself. “Yeah. But not just the fucking.” She raises her head to look at my face, and I
look back, seeing the strength and the compassion in those blue eyes. “Don’t get me wrong—the
fucking was world class. Amazing.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “What I really needed was…
you. Just you.”
She keeps looking at me. Into me, really, and I look back.
For so long, I’ve been afraid of losing my heart to someone who won’t take care of it, but
somehow I’m not afraid of giving my heart to Liza.
 LIZA

After giving me the most incredible orgasms of my life, Burney sweeps me into his arms and
cuddles me against that broad, strong, hairy chest of his and looks into my eyes as he tells me he
needs me.
That might be the minute I stop falling in love with him and realize I’m as deep in love as it’s
possible to be.
I can’t believe it. I met him yesterday.
We’ve only spent a few hours together, and for much of that time, we’ve been communicating with
our bodies. But…I know. I know how I feel about Burney. I know him. Not as well as I’m going to,
but already, I know what kind of man he is.
I thought I knew before I married Todd. I was wrong. And when I look back now, I actually didn’t
know the real, inside, him. But right here, my entire body satisfied and loved-up in a way I’ve never
known before, my inside self is satisfied too, and I can see that Burney is exactly what I wished for.
A true love. Someone I don’t want to live without.
A tiny qualm shakes me, as I remember that I can’t simply make a decision like this without
considering my children. Then Burney strokes my hair. “You’re an amazing woman, Liza. Been
waitin’ for you all my life.”
I decide to talk about Mason and Frannie later. Right now, I need to be loved for me. I need to let
Burney spoil me and take care of me.
We cuddle in warm, easy silence until I doze off. When I wake, the shadows are long and evening
approaches. “You hungry?” Burney asks in that sexy-as-hell whiskey voice.
Right on cue, my stomach growls. “Guess so.” I take an unobtrusive glance down at his lovely big
monster, which is semi-hard even now, and my mouth waters.
“Uh-uh. No, ma’am,” he says, actually wagging a finger at me. “Not yet. Gonna feed you some
real food before you get any snacks.”
I feel the urge to take charge, and instead of answering, I just lean down and take a long swipe up
his shaft with my tongue, swirling it around the head.
He moans. “Liza, oh fuuuuck,” and I grin at the idea of me—me, the boring-in-bed one—making
such a manly man beg for my touch. The next second, he’s leaping out of bed. “Miss Mouth. I oughta
have known you’d be this phenomenal.”
I feel unreasonably hurt. “Why did you make me stop?”
He’s putting on his jeans. No underwear. I want him so bad. Already. Again.
He leans over the bed to kiss my mouth. “I’m starving. Let’s go make some dinner, and then we
can take our time doing everything you want, sweetheart.”
“Now,” I say, lying back on the bed and pulling his hand to my breast. He kisses me, cupping my
breast and playing with my nipple, and I think I’m going to win, but then he pulls away.
“After we eat,” he says, flashing a wicked grin from inside that beard. It’s sexy as hell. “Come
on.” He pulls me out of bed and tosses me an oversized shirt from his dresser. “You can wear that,”
he says as he heads into the kitchen area.
I hold it up to look at it. Nothing special, just a dark blue v-neck tee, buttery-soft with wear. But
when I slip it on, something happens to me.
I feel like a vixen in it.
It barely covers my ass. The neckline shows off my cleavage. The soft cotton clings to my tits.
 Across the cabin, Burney is pulling food out of the fridge: steak, summer squash, tomatoes, and
broccoli. “How about I grill this and we can eat in about half an hour?”
“Sounds good,” I say, flashing him a grin when he turns to look at me.
“Speaking of good,” he says, his voice dipping down into that husky growl, “you sure fucking
look good in my shirt.”
“Am I fucking good?” I tease, lifting the hem a little. I’m still not sure what about this shirt is
making me feel so lighthearted and sexy, but damn. I should steal it, maybe.
“Definitely,” Burney says, his eyes devouring me. “Hell. Maybe I’m not all that hungry, after all.”
Just then, his stomach growls, and we both laugh. He goes outside to start the gas grill before coming
back in to kiss me and lightly smack my bare butt under the shirt.
I help him prepare the food, even going so far as to tell him he needs to season the veggies more.
He just smiles at me and adds more dried thyme and ground pepper to the vegetables.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m being bossy.”
“You can boss me around in the kitchen—well, anywhere, really,” he says, picking up the tray to
take it outside. “Anywhere but the bedroom.”
I laugh out loud. “You don’t even have a bedroom.”
He smiles, teeth white in his beard. “Yeah. So I guess I mean you can be the boss except when
we’re fucking. Then I get to be the boss.”
A sudden rush of fear mixed with arousal hits me, and my smile disappears.
“No,” he says, reaching to stroke my cheek. “No, Liza honey, not like that. If I order you around, it
will be for your pleasure. I want you to relax and let me take care of you, got it?”
I hesitate.
“I know you’re capable and I know you like having things organized,” Burney says, taking me into
his arms and holding me loosely. “I got no problem with that. But you don’t have to be in charge all
the time. If you’ll let me, I’ll be in charge of making you feel good.”
I take a deep breath. “What if I don’t like…what you’re…”
“Then you say so,” he tells me, and kisses my forehead. “You say you want it harder. Or softer. Or
on your back, or you want your neck kissed, or you’d really like to try something else. Because that
fucking turns me on, okay? Seeing you all empowered by your own desires is hella hot.” He leans
down and kisses my mouth, softly at first and then deeply, long enough to make my knees weak. I have
to clutch at his thick biceps to hold myself up when he finally pulls back. “Now. How do you like
your steak?”
“Somewhere between medium-rare and medium,” I say.
“No red, pink’s okay but a nice sear. Gotcha,” Burney says, and winks at me. “That’s how I like
mine, too. I think we’re compatible, babe.”
While he’s cooking the steak, I watch him. He’s still half-hard under his jeans, but knowing that
he’s not wearing anything else excites me. Knowing that at any second he could take me excites me.
Knowing that I’m wearing only his shirt is making me crazy.
And then another thought turns me right off: the kids.
My kids. Mason and Frances. How are they going to deal with this development? How will
Burney react when he realizes that most of my time is spent being a mother? He does know my kids
exist, but does he want to be a stepdad to them?
“Want a beer?” Burney says, turning back from the grill to speak to me over his shoulder, then
stopping. “Wait. What’s wrong? Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing. I just—I just thought of something. It doesn’t matter.”
 It’s pure fear. I think this man has fallen for me the way I’ve fallen for him, but maybe he doesn’t
really get how important my children are to me. Oh shit.
I need to make a decision: Wait until after we have sex again to mention them? Wait until
tomorrow? Or talk about them now and risk his losing interest in me?
I stew about it while he finishes cooking and plates up the food, insisting that I sit at the table
while he waits on me. It’s not necessary, but it sure is nice. I cut into my steak, which is cooked to
perfection, and sigh at the glorious taste.
“So do you grill for your kids?” Burney asks, opening his bottle of locally-brewed ale. “They like
steak?”
My eyes open wide and I stare at him. “They—um—excuse me—yeah, they like it. Fran wants
hers cut up in little bites, though, and Mason would rather have hot dogs.”
Burney smiles, shaking his head. “Kid’ll change his mind when he grows up, probably. How old
are they?”
I tell him. Frannie’s five and Mason’s eight. Mason hates spiders. Frannie isn’t scared of anything.
She loves color. He loves trucks. We have the most fun running around the back yard with the hose,
when it’s hot. Mason is obsessed with this one picture book about a family with eight kids, each of
whom like to eat a different meal. Fran is nuts about Paw Patrol.
“Don’t forget to eat while you’re talking,” Burney reminds me while I take a breath. “Does Mason
like Spiderman, or does the whole spider phobia thing extend to superheroes?”
Before long, we’ve eaten everything and I’ve told him a lot about my children. Not everything,
because that would take weeks, but still. I finally wind down.
“Liza,” Burney says, smiling at me, “you were their mom first, but I still think you’re my girl too.
Do you think they’d be willing to share you?”
I catch my breath. “They’re already sharing their dad. Do you mean—I don’t want to assume—
you mean you’re okay with my having kids?”
His face is serious, but his eyes are smiling and warm. I could fall into them. “I’ve always liked
kids. Thought I was too old to have any of my own. Yeah, I’d like to get to know your kids. I’m getting
the impression that you and your ex are making decisions with the kids’ best interests in mind, and that
sounds pretty healthy.”
I let myself sigh in relief.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says. “We’ll work it out. Now.” He stands up and takes my plate.
“The dishes can wait. It’s your turn.”
And just like that, I’m ready for him all over again.
 Next morning, he orders her into his shower, which is luxurious (large walk-in with a seat along
one wall) and although she resists at first, he proceeds to bathe her — washing her hair, soaping her
body and rinsing her with the shower wand — and then orders her to sit on the seat and spread her
legs. He brings her to orgasm with the shower wand, his fingers, and tongue, and then reminds her that
when he gives her an order, it’s designed to let her relax and enjoy. Then he orders her to suck his
cock. Lots of dirty talk here. She enjoys it. She says she had been reluctant because this is new for
her, because it’s not how things were with Todd. He tells her that he’s not Todd and she’s not Ashley,
and they’re going to be fine.
 BURNEY

I’m beginning to really get Liza. She’s uptight about having everything in order, but if she feels
like things are under control, she relaxes.
She really responds to my low-key directives. It’s like once I remind her that everything I’m doing
is for her, she lets go enough to enjoy it.
And fuck, does she enjoy it. After dinner, I’m ready to take her back to bed—seeing her in nothing
but my shirt has kept me stiff as a girder the whole way through dinner prep, cooking, and then eating.
But when I tell her I’m not gonna do the dishes, I’m gonna do her, she gets this look on her face that
intrigues the hell out of me. And then she stands up, turns her back to me, braces her hands on the
table, and bends over.
She turns her head and says to me over her shoulder, “I think you should do me right here.” Then
she licks her lips and arches her back, spreading her lush thighs to present me with the sight of her
beautiful pink slit.
Oh fuck yeah.
I drop my jeans right there. “That’s how you want it, sweetheart?”
She nods, holding my gaze.
“Condom,” I say, moving past her to go to my nightstand for one.
She grabs my arm. “I have an IUD. I don’t want anything between us this time.”
I look into her eyes. She means it. She trusts me. A wave of tenderness washes over me. I go to
my knees and dive in, licking her petals and her tender nub, slipping a finger and then two into her
channel to stroke her. She’s slick with need, and the thought that she’s been bare and needy under my
shirt for the past hour has me stiff and aching. She whimpers in delight as I lick her everywhere, still
giving her g-spot the pressure she needs.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
“What did you say?” I tease, pulling back and smacking one butt cheek lightly. “That’s a naughty
word, Liza.”
She looks at me over her shoulder again, but this time she looks scared. “I—um.”
I smack her other butt cheek. She’s very, very wet. I can see her juices glisten on her inner thigh.
“Naughty words get you spanked, sweetheart. What did you say just now?” I can’t help it—I smile at
her. This is fun.
As long as she’s having fun, and her reaction will tell me how she really feels about it.
She looks me in the eye, spreads her legs a little more, and says clearly, “I said a naughty word,
Burney. I said fuck.”
I smack her right cheek again, then the left. She sways her ass toward me, and says, still looking
right at me, “Fuck, yes. Again.” Six more good smacks has her moaning—with desire, not pain—and
then I can’t stand it anymore.
“You want this, don’t you?” I grip my shaft by the base and tease her slick folds with the head of
my monster. She moans again and thrusts her ass back toward me. I slide the tip through her folds,
over her clit, very slightly into her entrance, then out and over her clit again. “You want me to fill you
up with it.”
“Fuck me, Burney,” she says. Her eyes are sparkling when she looks back at me this time.
“Good girl,” I say, and I stick it all the way in, my eyes rolling back at the sheer pleasure of her
hot, tight, wet walls around me. “That’s right. Pretty pussy all wet for me. Let me split you in half,
darlin’.”
She moans. “Yes. Burney. Yes. Give me that dick. Yes. Oh fuck yes.”
I smack her ass again, pumping hard, and then I reach around her hip to play with her button. She
moans louder. “Damn. Your hot pussy got me so hard, so hard for you, Liza. All hot and wet and
sweet and tight. You love it when I fuck you. You love gettin’ filled up with my dick.”
She turns her head to me, and we kiss, our tongues dancing together at the same rhythm as our sex.
“I love it,” she gasps.
I can’t take much more of this. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart? You gonna milk my cock,
make me give you all my juice?”
She turns away and hangs her head, completely abandoning herself to me. “Oh shit,” she hisses
through her teeth. “Fuck. I’m gonna come.”
She does. I swear I can feel it in my balls, the force of her contractions, and then I lose all my
control. I shower her inner walls with my hot cream, and when I’m done, my legs are shaking. I hold
her from behind, then sit down at the bench with her in my arms. We’re still joined together. I kiss her
shoulder blades. She turns back to kiss my mouth, and I swear our souls are as joined as our bodies.
When we stop kissing, we look into each other’s eyes. She rises off me and I half-mourn for the
feel of her slick flesh on mine, but then she turns and sits on my lap, straddling me so my softening
member nestles between her secret lips.
“Do bad girls turn you on?” she asks, smiling.
I can’t help smiling back. “You turn me on. Minute I saw you, I got hard in my pants. Right there in
the law office. Never had quite that reaction to any other woman, I tell you.”
She laughs out loud, her lovely full breasts shaking. “The minute I saw you, I wanted to climb you
like a tree.”
“No shit?”
“It’s true.”
I kiss her mouth. “I don’t think I could have found anybody more perfect for me if I’d put in an
order. Liza, you don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be mine.”
She looks at me with shining eyes. “I wished on a star for you.”
“What?”
“I wished on a falling star,” she said. “I wished for true love. I wished for a soulmate. A man who
would love me no matter what. And when you walked in through the door, I somehow knew. I just
knew.”
I nod. “Yeah. Exactly. You are everything I ever wished for.” I kiss her again, gently, like a
promise. “Well then. We’re gonna make this work, aren’t we, Liza? You’re my woman. I’m your man.
Say we’re going to make this work forever, you and me.”
She pulls back to look into my eyes again, and when she speaks, the simple word sounds like a
promise for the rest of our lives. “Yes.”
 LIZA, EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Spring has come.

It was a glorious autumn, and it’s been a cold but cozy winter. Burney and I spent the last eight
months getting to really know each other.
Getting to really love each other.
The first time he met Frances and Mason, he charmed them both by paying attention to them. He
doesn’t do a whole lot of getting down on their level and playing with their toys with them, but he’ll
read to them, talk to them, play music with them, and teach them how to do things. And since the
weather has gotten nice, he’s been out in the backyard of my house in Dogwood Falls with them,
teaching them how to play soccer.
All the things that a father figure should do. And every time I catch him doing something like
teaching Mason how to throw a baseball or letting Frannie put hairbows in his beard, I fall a little
deeper in love with him.
Every time that we have a meal with my parents, or hang out and watch a movie with my sister, or
have a football-watching party with my girl friends, and listen to them all tell me that he’s a great guy,
I have to agree. He is a great guy.
Every time he looks into my eyes and tells me how happy he is to have me in his life, I love him
more.
How did I get so lucky?
I don’t even mind my ex-husband and his new wife anymore. In fact, our co-parenting has gotten a
lot smoother as Todd has realized that he has to step up at really being there for our kids the way that
Burney has.
I’m so happy.
On top of that, I’m not so vanilla in bed anymore. Every time Burney smacks me on the ass and
announces that I’m a wicked wench, the sexiest woman he’s ever met, and if I get any hotter he’s
going to be forced to tie me to the bed just to get any peace—I love it. We do all kinds of stuff that I
would never have even considered with anybody else, and we do it in all kinds of places that at one
time I would have found inappropriate.
Okay, I still think it’s probably inappropriate to go down on a guy, say, in the front seat of his
truck in the parking lot out behind the distillery late at night, on a weekend when the kids are at their
dad’s…I just don’t care that it’s inappropriate. Hey, man, if the truck’s a rockin’, don’t come a-
knockin’.
I can’t get enough of Burney.
I can’t get enough of his clever hands, his sensitive fingers, his delicious lips, his talented tongue,
his tree-trunk thighs, his sexy beard, his wonderful broad chest, his amazing ass, and that gorgeous
monster between his legs. I can’t get enough of his warm eyes, his beautiful smile, his loving words,
and the way he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world for him.
The love of my life looks at me as he pulls into the parking lot adjacent to the hiking trail, and he
grins. “You ready, sweetheart?”
“For the hike up Halfmoon Knob? Sure.” I grin back.
“How about y’all?” Burney calls toward the backseat. “Y’all ready to hike?”
“Yeah!” chorus Fran and Mason.
“You wanna see a bear?”
 “Yeah!” Frannie yells, at the same time Mason’s hollering, “No!”
“Gotta say I’m with Mason on this one,” Burney says. He opens his door and gets out to pull our
backpacks out of the bed of the truck, while I unfasten Fran from her car seat. “Frances, if you see a
bear on the trail, you let me know right away, okay? And don’t go near any bears. They’re hungry in
the spring and they’re pretty grumpy.”
“What if it’s a baby?” Fran asks. “I like baby bears.”
“I know they’re really cute,” Burney says, swinging backpacks to the ground and then crouching
down to Fran’s level. “But the mama bears get really nervous about people being around them. So we
want to stay far, far away from the bears. Promise me, okay?”
Fran pouts a little, but she shrugs up one shoulder. “Okay.”
“Tell me why we don’t go near bears, Miss Fran?” His voice is very serious.
“’Cause they’re grumpy?”
“’Cause they’re grumpy. And they can hurt people without even trying very hard. So we are all
gonna be really careful to stay away from bears. Right, everybody?”
“Right!” we all agree.
We don’t see any bears on our hike up Halfmoon Knob. It takes us a couple of hours, but we make
it up just fine. The kids are thrilled to be walking out in the cool sunshine, under the new leaves.
Frannie only gets tired when we near the top, and Burney picks her up and carries her.
Once we’re at the cabin, we have a great time playing tag in the yard. Burney makes a fire in the
firepit, and we roast marshmallows and have a great time. Fran only drops her marshmallow in the
flames once, and after she cries Burney and Mason each roast her an extra one so she feels loved.
Tell you the truth, it makes me feel loved, too.
When the afternoon advances, I suggest we start making our way back down the mountain. Mason
protests that he’s having too much fun, and Frannie protests that she isn’t done eating marshmallows,
and she’s too tired to hike back down anyway. Burney shakes his head, smiling. “No, you’re not
hiking back down now.” He checks his watch. “We got something to do first. Remember what I asked
you the other day?”
“Yeah!” Frannie says. “You want to—”
Mason shushes her by putting his hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell! We remember, Burney. Is it
now?”
“It’s now,” Burney says, his smile growing. He digs a hand into his pocket and comes around the
fire to where I’m sitting, and he goes down on one knee.
Oh, my.
I hold my breath.
“Liza,” my man says, reaching for my hand, “I love you. Mason and Frances and I talked about
this a few days ago, and they agreed that I could ask you to marry me and spend the rest of our lives
together.”
“As a family!” Frannie shouts, jumping up and down. “Like Daddy but not! Burney can be my
extra daddy!”
Mason rolls his eyes at his sister, and then he smiles at me. He nods. “Yeah. Say yes, Mama.”
“Will you marry me?” Burney asks softly, when I turn back to him, my eyes swimmy with happy
tears.
I nod. And then I kiss him. I keep it PG, but I kiss him with fervor and joy. He kisses back, and
then he puts a beautiful ring on my finger, and I can’t help laughing in pure happiness.
Ten minutes later, my BFF Annabelle drives up the gravel driveway and onto Burney’s land. She
hops out, waving. “Hey, everybody! What’s new?”
“She said yes,” Burney tells her, his smile wide enough in his beard to nearly split his face in
two.
“She’s no dummy,” AnnaB says, and comes to hug me. “I’m so happy for you!” she says, putting
her hands on each side of my face. “That whole Wishing Club thing…”
“I know,” I say. “I know.” We smile widely at each other before Annabelle turns to my kids and
says, “Hey! Who’s up for pizza and movie night at Auntie AnnaB’s house?”
“Meeeeeee!” Fran says, and Mason says, “Yeah, me!” Only then does it occur to me that Burney
asked Annabelle for her assistance in this, and if possible, I fall a little farther in love with him.
She gives him his truck keys, then an insulated food bag. “Dinner from I moved the car seats over
already, so thanks for giving me your spare keys.”
“No, thank you for taking the kids. They’re great, but but this one night—”
“Should be romantic,” AnnaB says, with a smile in my direction. “Have fun, lovebirds!”
When my best friend and my offspring are headed off down Halfmoon Knob, back to town,
Burney looks at me. “So. Wife-to-be…what do you think we should do now? Got any ideas?”
I look at him, taking him in from his dark hair down to his hiking boots, and loving every inch of
him. “Yeah. I do. They mostly involve taking our clothes off, though.”
“Fine by me.” He pulls me close.
We make each other happy to be alive.

Later, after we’ve made love twice and eaten the barbecue and cole slaw dinner that Annabelle
brought us from The Pit Boss, Burney takes a big blanket off the couch and throws it over his arm.
“Let’s go outside and look at the stars.” He eyes me up and down. “Maybe you should put on some
clothes?”
I pose seductively. “What, you’re already tired of looking at me naked?”
His eyebrows go up. “Not a chance. I just thought you’d be cold if you were naked outside.” He
drops the blanket. “But if you want to stay in…” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “I could make it
worth your while.”
He makes me laugh so easily. I guess you do that when you’re happy.
“No, let’s go outside,” I say. “We can build the fire back up. I could go for a s’more or two.”
“Good idea.” I gather the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars while Burney
gathers up the blankets again and goes out to restart the fire in the pit.
We snuggle together and look at the stars, while the fire is getting hot. Burney keeps kissing my
head while I lie with my cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beat strong and solid. It gets dark. I
hear owls hooting to each other, and the crickets and katydids creaking away.
There’s very little light pollution here, and the sky is truly black, sprinkled with stars like a
thousand thousand diamonds.
“I feel so lucky,” Burney whispers to me. “So lucky I found you, Liza. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper back. “Did you know I wished for you? And my wish came true.”
“First star or shooting star?”
“Shooting star. We all did, actually.”
“Who’s ‘we’ and why did you wish for me, exactly?”
I rabbit-punch his bicep. “All of us girls at book club. Wishing Club, I mean. And I didn’t wish
for you, exactly. I wished for true love.”
“That’s the only thing worth wishing for,” Burney says.
 And then he kisses me again, for real this time, and this time when a shooting star goes by
overhead, I don’t wish on it.
I already have everything I could ever wish for.
READ MORE OF CARLY’S BOOKS HERE:

Want more mountain men?

Men of Big Horn Ridge

Moonlight Ridge Mountain Men

Found by the Mountain Man (part of multi-author Spring’s Mountain Men series)

Want more of Dogwood Falls?

Inn Love

Dogwood Falls

Love Lake Blue Collar Bad Boys

GABE (part of multi-author Holidays with the Hometown Hero series)

Other series:

Single Dads Club

Nerd Love

Rivertown Fire & Rescue

Blue Collar Hometown Hotties

Bringing the Heat (baseball series)

Shenanigans & Malarkey (Irish pub series)

Heart Doctors

Christmas Lumberjacks

Series-starter collection:

FIRST — a collection of five first-in-series books from five different series

You can find more of Carly’s books at her Amazon author page HERE!
 Join my mailing list and get a FREE copy of XANDER!

Short sweet steamy alpha male-curvy girl enemies-to-lovers romance. No cheating, no

cliffhanger, always an HEA. Book 10 in the Blue Collar Hometown Hotties series, but can be read as
a standalone.

MINDY:
Guys don't generally stare at me at the gym. I'm not one of those slender, fit girls.
Even more unusual, the staring guy is super-hot.
I'm so disconcerted that I snap at him.
When I find out he's the guy I've hired to build an outdoor seating area at my restaurant, I have a
choice to make: be angry, or be professional?
I decide on professional.

XANDER:
The super-hot curvy girl who clapped back at me this morning for staring at her turns out to be my
new client.
I’m relieved that she’s treating me in a businesslike way, and I guess we bury the hatchet.
But I can’t stop thinking about her.
When she might be in danger, I can’t help stepping in to protect the woman I think of as mine.
The question is, when will she realize I’m hers?

You can get XANDER HERE!

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