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My tears drip against his skin and his head ducks to rest on my shoulder. It’s not about sex or lust or even love. It’s pure comfort between two people who’ve always walked the line of misery. Who’ve always carried the burden of their broken pieces in total solitude.

As soon as the skyscraper-high heels are off, I sink my feet into the plush carpet and hum in contentment as feeling tingles back into my pinched toes. I know beauty is pain and all that jazz, but you’d think spending upwards of two grand on a pair of pumps would ensure, as a minimum requirement, that you don’t feel like a victim of Chinese foot-binding by the end of the night......LMAO!!!

I was a twenty-two year old woman with a pitiful amount of experience with the male sex, all because my stupid, stubborn heart refused to relinquish hope that someday, my soulmate would wake up and smell the freaking pheromones.

I tilted my head to get a better look at him. “What’s your name?” “Nathaniel Xavier Knox. You can call me Nate.” “I’m Phoebe,” I said, ducking my head. “You can call me Phoebe.”.....:))

2.5 Stars

I pay these people well. More than the average industry pays, and I expect them to do a good job.” He shook his head as he got up from his seat. “Will anyone ever do a good job in your eyes?” I shrugged. “Probably not.” “Fine. I’ll go find your next victim.” He sighed as he walked out of my office....

“I have lived, Talia. In the short time I have known you, I have lived more than I could ever have dreamed.” His eyes stared at mine. “I have lived only because of you. I have … I have gained a full heart, a full heart for you.”

“I will happily give up my life for yours.” His eyebrows pulled down in devastation. “I cannot imagine a world without you in it, you brought me the sun. I can live in darkness again knowing that you are shining here on the outside.”

His eyelids fluttered in sleep, and running my finger down his stubbled cheek, I whispered, “Zaal Kostava, you’ve stolen my forbidden heart.”

For a moment I had to question whether this betrayal with Zaal—against my family—was worth it. I cast my gaze across his identity tattoo, the scars from Lord knows what, and then his face, open, trusting, and handsome. Those beautiful innocent eyes. I sighed deeply, a sense of accepting peace flowing through me. It was worth it. Pure instinct told me he was worth it.

Omg !!! What the hell just happened ....:0

5 Stars....this was done to perfection...I am looking forward to the next book in the Series...I heart Leo the Farmer ....I seriously think I put on at least 5 lbs while reading this novel....I was inspired to bake; resulting in me consuming the majority of said fruit cake...;)

“I love you— I love you so much! I want you, I want everything . I want small town and home grown. I want this— without the bees preferably , but if the bees come with this life, then I’ll take the fucking bees. I just want to be your Sugar Snap.”

“We’re here!” I answered , as full of enthusiasm as he was. I welcomed the interruption, before we were tempted to put on an X-rated movie of Old MacDonald Had an Orgasm. A movie that, based on how good Leo was looking tonight, I’d be proud to star in.

“Get a grip, Roxie,” I told myself. But two seconds later, I smelled the loaf like I’d seen mothers sniffing their baby’s head. Something about the smell of a newborn? Is it wrong that I feel the same way about a warm swirled rye?

I adore Farmer Leo and his nuts ....;) This novel is a contemporary romance with smexy times and food porn; I am equal parts horny and ravenous with hunger...lol!!!

Well hell,that was hotttt!!! Naughty Farmer betwixt ones thighs....;) I am giving serious thought ,to asking my Hubby to grow a beard ; there seems to be some mighty fine perks attached to facial hair...;))

He was kind, his grin was warm, and his forearms were spectacular. A vintage long-sleeved Beastie Boys T-shirt was shoved up to his elbows, his skin tanned from working outside, faded, ripped jeans hanging low on his hips. When he lifted a box of rhubarb down from the truck behind him, a sliver of skin peeked out, and I saw a woman fan herself with a leaf of romaine.

I also know that I’ve never seen Leo around town with anyone . Maybe he’s just waiting for the right gal.” “And you think the right gal for him is a fifty-seven-year-old waitress from Bailey Falls?” “Point taken. But if I were thirty years younger, I’d be throwing myself at him.” Maxine snorted . “You’d have to be thirty years younger. A cucumber that size would kill you now.” “But what a way to go!”...Indeed ;)

'I settled into my childhood bed, surrounded by everything important to me as a teenage girl. Instead of posters of Justin Timberlake and Edward Cullen, I had a shrine to Eric Ripert and Anthony Bourdain. Those two would make a heavenly sandwich for any woman to slip in between. If asked, I’d be their meat".....oh .my.God,this is just too much....LMAO!!!!

My jeans literally creaked as I walked, stiff with dried potato and snap pea water, reminding me of the tumble I’d taken with the cutest farmer this side of Little House on the Prairie.

The man walking toward me is someone else entirely. Gone is the shaggy blonde hair and lean body of the former Connor Stevens. Now . . . he’s huge. Wide shoulders and chest and arms so big I’m not sure I could wrap both hands around them. His head is shaved, cut close and tattoos cover almost every visible part of his skin. If there’s a stereotype for convicts, he fits the bill

Taking Connor home will be my thank you to Blake for loving me and fighting so hard to stay here with me. A lesser man would’ve left this world long before he did, but I asked him to fight, and he did. It was circumstances that weren’t in our favor.

"I enjoyed the horny times. Culinary school was a fondue pot of sexual tension, and we were all dying to get speared and forked"..... Forget College ,go to culinary school instead....LMAO!!!!

with only the cacti, the sand, and an actual buzzard to bear witness, the desert is the perfect place to roll down the windows and sing “ Sweet Caroline” at the top of your lungs. I even did my own backup vocals, giving each bah bah bah my all, with some swerves across the yellow line as a dance element. It’s possible the desert was getting to me...

Suffering from intermittent insomnia since grade school, I’d adapted to less sleep than your average chicken.

Second-generation hippie. Woodstock Part Deux. I’d inherited my hair from her, but my eyes came from my father. I’d never met him, but my mother said she could always tell our moods based on our eye color. Hazel when I’m calm, a little blue when I’m blue, and a little green when I’m frazzled. I was very celery at the moment.....lol!!