Love is one dare neither of them can take...
Arabella Stone, Nashville's darling, is eager to shuck her prim-and-proper rep, and a few wild months spent checking items off her " summer bucket list" is the way to do it. First up: kiss the man she's crushed on since she wore a training bra, the bad boy of country himself, Blue bassist Charlie Tucker.
For Charlie, a beautiful woman flirting with him isn't out of the norm--but a beautiful woman bolting after the hottest kiss of his life sure is. And when he finds out his kiss-and-run Cinderella is none other than Arabella Stone, daughter of his label's CEO, he knows he's in trouble. Because not only is she a Stone, she's also his employee for the next few months at the recording studio he just bought.
Over the course of one thrilling summer, Arabella and Charlie chip away at her bucket list and fight the simmering attraction between them...knowing that once it's all over, so is their time together.
Ducking into the darkened hallway, he quickly sized up the options. With the sound of quickened footsteps behind him, he wrapped his hand around the handle and darted behind the heavy door.
What happened next he couldn’t have predicted.
And again, he was somewhat of a reluctant expert on crazy women.
Not five seconds after the marked door closed, it pushed open again. Charlie’s gaze collided with the brunette’s in the mirror. She blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to the bright lights, and her lips pursed in confusion as she spied the row of porcelain sinks under the mirrors. She looked beyond his shoulder to the line of urinals attached to the wall, and her mouth dropped open in a sound he assumed only dogs could hear. And then…
“Oh. My. God!”
A voice like honey, smooth and thick and echoing off the tile floor, curled around him as any sense of bravado faded, and the woman slapped a hand over her eyes. Blindly, she spun around to leave…and accidentally rammed headfirst into the solid oak doorframe. They both winced.
Red flags wilting, alarm bells silencing, intuition told Charlie that the woman wasn’t as dangerous as he’d once thought. With the determined slope of her shoulders now slumped, she seemed mostly mortified, so he tried to do the gentlemanly thing.
Strolling forward, he went to help her with the door. “Here, let me.”
Only, she turned at the same time, following the sound of his voice, and her forehead crashed into his chin.
Shit.
“Holy mother of crud nuggets!”
A surprised laugh broke past the stinger. “What did you just say?”
Slowly, the brunette opened her fingers and peeked at him through the slats. Her wide brown eyes were wet and filled with too many emotions to name, but one was for sure embarrassment. Behind them, the men’s bathroom door opened again, and a balding gentleman lumbered through. He stopped short after two steps, taking in first the woman, then Charlie, and then her again, before glancing at the sign posted on the door. With a dismissive shrug, he continued on, strolling straight into the corner stall.
The beauty’s fingers slammed closed again.
“Only me,” she whimpered. “This would only happen to me.”
New York Times bestselling author Rachel Harris writes humorous love stories about sassy girls-next-door and the hot guys that make them swoon. Vibrant settings, witty banter, and strong relationships are a staple in each of her books…and kissing. Lots of kissing.
An admitted Diet Mountain Dew addict and homeschool mom, she gets through each day by laughing at herself, hugging her kids, and watching way too much Food Network with her husband. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romances, and LOVES talking with readers!
Website | Facebook |Twitter |Rachel Harris Goodreads | Newsletter Sign Up
