Informationen zum Autor B.K. Borison Klappentext A grumpy farmer and a no-nonsense social media influencer have another chance at love in this charming romantic comedy. Evelyn St. James isn't the kind of woman you forget. Beckett Porter certainly hasn't. One incredible weekend in Maine, and he's officially a man distracted. He's not unfamiliar with hot and heavy flings, but Evie wove some sort of magic over him during their tumble in the sheets. He can't stop thinking about her laugh. Her hand pressed flat against his chest. Her smiling mouth at his neck. So when she suddenly appears on his farm as part of a social media contest, he isconfused. He had no idea that the sweet and sexy woman he met at a bar is actually a global phenomenon. When Evie disappears again, Beckett resolves to finally move on. But Evie, who has been feeling disconnected from her work and increasingly dissatisfied with life online, is trying to find her way back to something real. She returns to the last place she was happy: Lovelight Farms and the tiny town of Inglewild. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the hot farmer she spent two incredible nights with. Leseprobe Beckett March "Do you plan on coming back to bed?" Her voice is raspy with sleep, and she has a hickey at the base of her throat, a deep purple bruise that I can't stop staring at. She stretches her arms above her head, and the sheet slips half an inch, the swell of her breasts rising from beneath. I want to catch that sheet in my teeth and drag it down until she's bare beneath me. I want a hundred other things too. I shake my head from where I'm perched on the desk in the corner of the room and take another sip of coffee instead. Restraint, I tell myself. Have some goddamn restraint. She smirks at me. "Oh, I get it." She drops her hands back down, one twisting through her hair, the other slipping beneath the sheets. One eyebrow arches high in invitation. "You like to watch." I'm pretty sure I'd like just about anything with Evie. I want all that black silky hair wrapped around my fist, that smiling mouth at my neck. Last night she spent twenty-two minutes tracing the tattoo across my bicep with her mouth, and I want that too. I want to return the favor with the freckles on the inside of her wrist and the marks at her hips. I push off the desk and set my cup to the side. I step toward the bed and watch the movement of her hand. She swipes it low across her stomach, a wicked smile on her pretty face. I plant my knee on the bed and find her ankle, her bare foot dangling off the edge. "I love to watch," I tell her as I grip her thigh and make room for my body between her long legs. I drop a kiss to the inside of her knee, and her whole body shivers. I drop another kiss just above it. "But I like to touch more." A finger digs into my ribcage as I'm violently yanked from my favorite daydream. "Are you paying attention?" My knee jolts and my boot catches on the chair in front of me, sending Becky Gardener rocking precariously to the side. She curls her hands around the edges with a white-knuckled grip and shoots me a look over her shoulder. I fix my attention on my boots and mumble an apology. "I'm paying attention," I tell Stella, and swat her hand away. Kind of. Not really. There are too many people in this room. All of the business owners in town are sandwiched together in the conference space at the rec hall, an old room that I'm pretty sure is used to store Easter decorations, if the slightly terrifying six-foot bunny in the rear corner is any indication. It smells like stale coffee and hairspray, and the ladies from the salon haven't stopped cackling since they stepped through the door. It's like sitting cross-legged in the middle of a parade while the drumline marches around me. All of the so...

Autorentext

B.K. Borison

Zusammenfassung
A grumpy farmer and a no-nonsense social media influencer have another chance at love in this charming romantic comedy.

Evelyn St. James isn’t the kind of woman you forget. Beckett Porter certainly hasn’t. One incredible weekend in Maine, and he’s officially a man distracted. He’s not unfamiliar with hot and heavy flings, but Evie wove some sort of magic over him during their tumble in the sheets. He can’t stop thinking about her laugh. Her hand pressed flat against his chest. Her smiling mouth at his neck. 

So when she suddenly appears on his farm as part of a social media contest, he is…confused. He had no idea that the sweet and sexy woman he met at a bar is actually a global phenomenon. When Evie disappears again, Beckett resolves to finally move on.

But Evie, who has been feeling disconnected from her work and increasingly dissatisfied with life online, is trying to find her way back to something real. She returns to the last place she was happy: Lovelight Farms and the tiny town of Inglewild. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the hot farmer she spent two incredible nights with.

Leseprobe
Beckett

March

"Do you plan on coming back to bed?"

Her voice is raspy with sleep, and she has a hickey at the base of her throat, a deep purple bruise that I can't stop staring at. She stretches her arms above her head, and the sheet slips half an inch, the swell of her breasts rising from beneath. I want to catch that sheet in my teeth and drag it down until she's bare beneath me. I want a hundred other things too.

I shake my head from where I'm perched on the desk in the corner of the room and take another sip of coffee instead.

Restraint, I tell myself. Have some goddamn restraint.

She smirks at me.

"Oh, I get it." She drops her hands back down, one twisting through her hair, the other slipping beneath the sheets. One eyebrow arches high in invitation. "You like to watch."

I'm pretty sure I'd like just about anything with Evie. I want all that black silky hair wrapped around my fist, that smiling mouth at my neck. Last night she spent twenty-two minutes tracing the tattoo across my bicep with her mouth, and I want that too. I want to return the favor with the freckles on the inside of her wrist and the marks at her hips.

I push off the desk and set my cup to the side. I step toward the bed and watch the movement of her hand. She swipes it low across her stomach, a wicked smile on her pretty face. I plant my knee on the bed and find her ankle, her bare foot dangling off the edge.

"I love to watch," I tell her as I grip her thigh and make room for my body between her long legs. I drop a kiss to the inside of her knee, and her whole body shivers. I drop another kiss just above it. "But I like to touch more."

A finger digs into my ribcage as I'm violently yanked from my favorite daydream.

"Are you paying attention?"

My knee jolts and my boot catches on the chair in front of me, sending Becky Gardener rocking precariously to the side. She curls her hands around the edges with a white-knuckled grip and shoots me a look over her shoulder. I fix my attention on my boots and mumble an apology.

"I'm paying attention," I tell Stella, and swat her hand away.

Kind of. Not really. There are too many people in this room. All of the business owners in town are sandwiched together in the conference space at the rec hall, an old room that I'm pretty sure is used to store Easter decorations, if the slightly terrifying six-foot bunny in the rear corner is any indication. It smells like stale coffee and hairspray, and the ladies from the salon haven't stopped cackling since they stepped through the door. It's like sitting cross-legged in the middle of a parade while the drumline marches around me. All of the sound pulls my shoulders tight, an itch of discomfort pricking at my neck.

And I keep making eye contact with that bunny.

I don't usually come to these types of things, but Stella had insiste…