Copyright © 2021 by Harloe Rae, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher listed above, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or purely coincidental.
Editing: Red Adept Editing
Cover Artist: Book Cover Kingdom (www.bookcoverkingdom.com)
Photographer: Rafa G. Catalá
Cover Model: Alfredo
Interior Design: Champagne Book Design
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
NOVELS BY HARLOE RAE
DEDICATION
PLAYLIST
ABOUT THIS BOOK
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
WHAT TO READ NEXT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Reclusive Standalones
Redefining Us
Forget You Not
#BitterSweetHeat Standalones
Gent
Miss
Lass
Silo Springs Standalones
Breaker
Keeper
Loner
Total Standalones
Watch Me Follow
Ask Me Why
Left for Wild
Leave Him Loved
For my baby girl, Briella Jean.
If it weren’t for her patience and utter infatuation with being in a sling wrap, this book wouldn’t be done.
Also, to the love of country boys. Who can resist, right?
“Where the Green Grass Grows” by Tim McGraw
“Good Directions” by Billy Currington
“Big Green Tractor” by Jason Aldean
“This is How You Fall in Love” by Jeremy Zucker
“Grow As We Go” by Ben Platt
“Favorite T-Shirt” by Jake Scott
“Stupid Boy” by Keith Urban
“Home to You” by Sigrid
“You Can Have Your Space, Cowboy” by Kacey Musgraves
“Who Would Have Thought” by Dylan Dunlap
“Surrender” by Natalie Taylor
“Better Half of Me” by Tom Walker
Listen on Spotify here!
I’m a city girl—born and raised.
My plans for the future include a towering high-rise that overlooks the hustle and bustle.
Living in farm country? That possibility never had a place on my bucket list.
Until now.
Enter Reeve Colton—local bachelor and shameless flirt.
Bumping into him on my introductory stroll down Main Street is a delicious housewarming treat.
The small-town charm of Bampton Valley begins sinking in that afternoon.
Maybe this temporary relocation is a blessing in disguise.
It turns out Reeve and I have more in common than our mutual appreciation for good barbecue. Don’t even get me started on his magnetic personality and ridiculous good looks.
Striking a bargain with him is a no-brainer.
What starts as a bit of fun becomes complicated in a hurry.
But that won’t change the inevitable.
When my contract is done, I’ll be leaving him—and Bampton Valley—behind.
The swig of lemon shandy sends a cool burst of bubbling zest across my tongue. I swallow and allow a smile to curve the corners of my mouth. Something about this crisp brew lifts my spirits. Being in the company of my best friends definitely boosts my mood too. Each moment in their presence is becoming more precious as graduation looms one day closer. Cheap pitchers and greasy nachos on Sunday nights at the Library will soon be a memory. With a bumpy roll of my shoulders, I shove the gloom into a far corner. We’re not here to dwell on our individual departures. Celebrating our accomplishments is more like it.
A cool tingle of foam tickles my upper lip before I wipe all traces of evidence away. When I glance up, Vannah and Clea have matching smears of froth from their latest gulps of beer. Presley dips her head, probably erasing the proof before anyone dares to comment. Not that the regulars of this shabby-chic establishment ever would, but she’s always been concerned about the image her actions portray. I shoot her a small grin, and she shrugs.
Clea raises her mug, nearly sloshing out the golden contents. “Let’s do a toast.”
“Another one?” I take inventory on the condition of my stomach and find no upset, not yet at least.
“When’s the next half-price affair where we’ll be gathered together?”
Vannah bobs her head. “Yeah, this week marks the end of our college journey. On Friday, we’ll go our separate ways as the responsibility of adulthood settles onto our laps.”
I barely bite back a groan. “Thanks for the reminder.”
A furrow forms between Clea’s brows. “What’s with the blue hue?”
“It’s nothing.” The churning in my belly—that has nothing to do with alcohol—screams otherwise.
“Spill it,” she urges.
I twist my lips to one side, knowing better than to argue. “Bellmoore still hasn’t contacted me with more details.”
Vannah waves off my concern. “They’ll call. You secured that teaching slot months ago. The administration would be foolish to let such a bright star escape their orbit.”
“You make me sound so celestial,” I murmur.
She tucks a curled section of auburn hair behind her ear. “Thank you. My astronomy professor would be happy to hear that.”
“Too bad that won’t come in handy at your fancy-pants office gig.” Clea clucks her tongue.
Vannah sends her a pout. “Yeah, planets and space travel don’t play well with corporate real estate.”
“Everyone needs a side hustle.”
“True story.” Vannah nudges her and grins.
I belatedly realize how quiet Presley is. Reserved or not, she’s being more withdrawn than usual. I lean in so my whisper won’t carry. “Are you okay?”
She nods, almost too quickly. “Yeah, I’m good. Just enjoying the college bar scene while I can.”
Vannah and Clea are still absorbed in their conversation, oblivious to Presley’s odd attitude. Maybe I’m projecting my sorrow onto her. I give myself another internal shake and attempt to remain in the present.
As if on cue, the scent of buttery popcorn wafts over from the far wall. My stomach rumbles from the tempting smell. A group of guys chant and down a round of shots. I recognize one as a fellow student from several of my elementary education classes. Maybe that’s his major as well. I can’t help wondering if he secured a contract yet. The thought vanishes with an internal curse. What does it matter? The simple answer is that it doesn’t.
Other familiar faces litter the crowd.
