The Bluff (Love Stories in Sheet Cake, Texas, #2)

by Emma St. Clair

It was the kind of kiss that starts wars or ends them. The sort that sonnets are written about. Country songs too—the happy ones that you line dance to, not the sad ones or the vengeful ones. (Though I do love some vengeful Miranda Lambert.) As much as the thought should terrify me, it’s the kind of kiss that becomes your last first kiss. Because I can’t imagine any other kiss will ever come close.