Bookspry

The cowboy doesn't smile. Everyone in Fox Ridge knows that.

Then why am I the exception? I'm just the new librarian, organizing the Heritage Days booth, when Thomas Hill reluctantly shows up to help. He's all broad shoulders, faded jeans, and eyes so blue they make my words dry up, which is saying something, since I never stop talking.

But when he looks at me, I feel utterly seen. And when he touches me, time both stops and accelerates, leaving me breathless and wanting more of this man wh...
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The cowboy doesn't smile. Everyone in Fox Ridge knows that.

Then why am I the exception? I'm just the new librarian, organizing the Heritage Days booth, when Thomas Hill reluctantly shows up to help. He's all broad shoulders, faded jeans, and eyes so blue they make my words dry up, which is saying something, since I never stop talking.

But when he looks at me, I feel utterly seen. And when he touches me, time both stops and accelerates, leaving me breathless and wanting more of this man who guards his heart like it's made of glass.

Between wishing wells and festival lights, between his silence and my chatter, we're writing our own love story alongside one from the past. The question haunting me now: can something that blooms this quickly actually last?
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