Bluegrass Hero
"How do you reckon anybody breathes in here?" The drawling baritone from the front door of Emily Montague's bath shop surprised her. She drew in a breath—a very pleasured, scent-filled breath, thank you very much—and looked up at the two men. Outside of Valentine's Day or Mother's Day, men rarely ventured into West of Paris with all its feminine décor and lavishly scented soaps. Certainly not at the end of January.
Certainly not Gil Sorrent.
Sorrent's companion nudged him as they shook the sleet off their jackets. The wet snow barely missed the oiled silk tablecloth on the table near the door. Emily had locked horns with Gil Sorrent enough times to be astounded that he'd even set foot in her shop. He was a big man with big ideas she didn't always like.
Putting on her "customer voice"—the soft, smooth, How may I help you? voice—Emily ... read full excerpt from Bluegrass Hero ebook
