Without a plan in place and only a hundred dollars to my name, this big city girl born in a small town world headed for the bright lights of city life.
Four years later, I may have more money in my bank account, but somehow I’ve found myself back in another small town trying to build a life. Even though the residents of Fayhill have welcomed me like one of their own, this is only a detour, not a final destination.
Then I met Shane Abbott.
What’s a girl to do when a certain dark-haired dimpled cowboy, who fills out a pair of jeans like it’s his job with a smile that sets my soul on fire, has me considering burning my map?
The bright lights of city life never appealed to me. I like the quiet of small town life, and my hometown of Fayhill fits me to a T.
I never expected to meet Mercy Warner.
Love is the last thing on my mind. These days I work hard and mind my own business. So when a certain honey-haired spitfire blows into town, I take another look.
She may claim small town life isn’t for her, but the way she’s settling in tells me she might be open to the option. Refusing to let this opportunity to pass me by, I take another chance and put my small town heart on the line.
Surely the draw of the big city won’t burn me twice . . .
Andrea Johnston spent her childhood with her nose in a book and a pen to paper.
An avid people watcher, her mind is full of stories that yearn to be told.
A fan of angsty romance with a happy ending, super sexy erotica and a good mystery, Andrea can always be found with her Kindle nearby fully charged.
Andrea lives in Idaho with her family and two dogs. When she isn’t spending time with her partner in crime aka her husband, she can be found binge watching all things Bravo and enjoying a cocktail. Nothing makes her happier than the laughter of her children, a good book, her feet in the water, and cocktail in hand all at the same time.
Follow Andrea:
“Please don’t do this. Please, Gerty.” I sound pathetic—begging my twenty-something-year-old teal hatchback to live. Yes, live. I need my car to get her shit together and get me to Austin. Looking at the gauges, I plead with them to tell me what’s wrong. That’s wishful thinking since they stopped working a year ago and the little arrow things bounce without telling me anything.
“Come on, girl. Look, six miles. You can do it.” My words are encouraging. Okay, they aren’t really encouraging. They’re more like begging with a sprinkling of frustration and the lingering sounds of tears lacing each word.
Six miles and we’ll be in the town of Fayhill. If I’m lucky, Gerty will hold on for at least eight and allow me to get closer to the center of town. I’ve been to this town once before and, while it’s been at least ten years, I’m sure it hasn’t changed much. That’s the brilliance of small Texas towns: they don’t change much. It’s also why I left small-town Texas: they don’t change much.
I won’t cry. This isn’t a big deal. We’ve broken down before. Sure, it was in a town where I knew a lot of people. A town with taxis that could get me home if necessary. Home. I refuse to admit defeat. That “d” word is not in my vocabulary. I glance up in my rearview mirror and don’t see smoke billowing behind me; that’s good. And, because I was obviously a sinner in my past life and am being punished for said unknown sins, a puff of smoke appears in front of me.
Dammit to hell. I’m going to be stranded in Fayhill, Texas. Fayhill, population . . . well, I don’t know what the population is, but I’m sure it’s less than what I’m looking for as I start my new life.
Again.
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