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.

But real boyfriends suck. See: Dale. Whereas fictional ones never let me down. They come complete with a grand gesture and an HEA every dang time.

Amen, sister.

“I’m sure she could handle you on her own. But that doesn’t mean she should have to. Leave.” If I liked the way James stepped in to physically protect me, I love his verbal defense even more. 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.

James: I was planning to skip Winnie: No way! I want the whole conference experience. James: Have fun Winnie: You’re really not going to come with me? James: No Winnie: Fine. I’ll sit with Daniel. James: What time should I meet you

Now he’s trying to get me on a motorcycle, all pressed up close with my arms wrapped around him? I don’t think so. Not happening. I don’t care what the books say. That’s the way babies are made.