Published by Bloomsbury Spark on September 27, 2016
Genres: Contemporary Romance
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“We’re broken in the most screwed-up perfect way. It was inevitable we’d end up together.”
Cassidy Beck is focused on one thing, and one thing only: planning the Southern wedding of the century in Lucas Hill, South Carolina. Fresh from a tragic breakup, Cassidy’s not in the mood for any distractions. But when antebellum hottie Quinn Covington arrives in all his sexy, tattooed glory, he might prove to be the biggest distraction of them all.
MIA ever since his father’s death, Quinn doesn’t plan to stay any longer than it takes to start his dad’s vintage truck. But the sight of Cassidy trying to fend off his family’s pet turkey sends him for a loop. Red-haired and fierce, she’s just as broken as he is. But even though Cassidy’s past makes her the only one able to understand Quinn’s own scars, they also make her wary. After all, how can she trust him with her heart when everyone else she’s ever given it to has thrown it away?
Sexy, heart-wrenching, and full of Southern charm, this new contemporary romance from Camden Leigh shows just what happens when two people who are perfectly broken end up piecing each other back together.
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Love Me Crazy
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“I’ll hand it to you, most wouldn’t have made it through the door.” I move past her legs and open a drawer while checking her out. “Especially ones waving meat cleavers and cussing like a Jersey mobster.”
“I’m not from Jersey. I’m from Boston.” She turns toward me. “And most people aren’t attacked by a fu—” Her gaze stops on mine but seconds later, drops. Her skin turns pink, camouflaging her freckles.
Haven’t caused that reaction in a while. I discreetly check my fly. “What were you saying?”
“Um, ya know, fowl. Attacked by fowl.” She slides off the counter to her feet.
“Right.” Enjoying her fluster, I check another drawer.
I find Crockett’s feed and pour a handful on the counter. “‘Attaboy, Crockett,” I whisper to the turkey.
“Crockett?” the girl says.
I give her a smile for a peace offering. “Meet Davy Crockett.”
She snorts louder than Sunday dinner, then turns a medley of reds until her skin decides on raw pink.
Amused by her inability to keep her reactions in check, my gaze drops to the dip in her collar where her shirt ties together and the loops tangle as if they’re trying to mask her embarrassment. Damn. Focus. Here for the keys. Here for the truck. I snap my gaze to hers and find her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed. Holy sexiness.
“May I help you with something?” she asks, fanning the knife.
Like jerking those ties loose? Um, yeah. “Nope. All’s good here.” My gaze skips over her lips to the huge blade. “You know, Crocket doesn’t take kindly to death threats.” I slip my hand over her wrist and steady the cleaver. Touching, flirting—bad idea. But those red lips. Those freckles on her shoulder . . . I want to nibble them until she’s squirming.
She sucks in and holds her breath. For a brief second her chest presses against mine but disappears as she pulls in her stomach and flattens against the counter. At least she didn’t push me away.
I squeeze her hand, urging her to give up the knife. Her erratic pulse dances beneath my fingertips. Adrenaline or attraction, Redhead? I pull the knife free and lean into her to set it on the counter behind her.
“I’m Quinn,” I whisper in her ear, pausing long enough to notice her pulse jumping like a hot coal on water.
Her lips part and a breath leaves through the oval opening.
I step away to give myself space. This would be a good time to grab the keys and leave. “And you are?” I ask instead.