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

by Emma St. Clair

Yes, I hate birthdays and parties. And sometimes people. No, I don’t want to talk about it.

And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being out of control of a situation. Even more so—out of control of myself.

That’s the thing about big brothers. We’ll never stop being overprotective.

I didn’t think growling was a real thing guys did. But it most definitely is something James does. It’s stupidly unfair how much I like it.

I have a theory. It’s that every woman has two fantasies—one where she’s rescued by a dashing hero, and one where she doesn’t need a hero at all and rescues herself.

His frown deepens. Is it weird I find him hotter frowning than smiling? Are frown fetishes a thing? If not, I’ll gladly be the start of this trend.

Okay, this is entirely too much. The cat. The proximity. The words—oh my gosh, who knew when James decided to use more than one-syllable words it would be so devastating?