Available from Red Rose Publishing
Honey Jordan stomped down the porch steps waving a big wooden spoon. “You son-of-a-cow chip!” She’d thrown all her cooking pots at the object of her displeasure—Brock Ryan. Blue enamel speckle ware littered the yard. She picked up a cast iron skillet and tossed it. Dang, just missed his ass. Mighty fine it was too. She wished it were her hands on those tight butt cheeks.
Brock ran for cover behind a large oak. “What’s got you so riled?”
“Our house is still unfinished. We can’t get married until it’s done. Have you changed your mind?” Hands on her hips she slowly advanced until she stopped a foot from him then pointed the wooden mixing spoon at his chest. “My sweet darlin,’ you can be replaced.” The town’s old biddies are still watching me with their noses in the air and whispering when I walk by, and all because of us getting caught sparking behind the mercantile.
He jerked the utensil from her hands. “What do you mean I can be replaced?”
“You have one week to finish Brock, or else.” Honey snatched the wooden weapon back, reached around and smacked his ass with the heel of the spoon.
In a twirl of red calico, she marched up the stairs into the kitchen.
Honey slammed the screen door. “Oh, that brother of yours, Emmy…” Even though she was mad, her heart pounded at the sight of him. Sun-kissed blonde hair that brushed the collar of his shirt, blue eyes with a mischievous glint and a mouth made for kissing.