Home is Where the Heat Is, Book 1
Miya Jackson always believed life had more to offer outside Dead End, Texas. So when circumstances turned her life upside down, she took her chance to break free. A few yearsâ€”and some brutal doses of realityâ€”later, her little sisterâ€™s wedding brings her back to the hometown she left behind.
The last place she expects is to end up is in the arms of the man sheâ€™s tried and failed to forget. One scalding, passionate night is all it takes to make her rethink her damn good reasons for leaving.
Shawn Dalton always hoped this day would come. Hell, he and Miya have a history, and any misunderstandings can be fixed if sheâ€™ll only stay in one spot long enough. Now thatâ€™s sheâ€™s back, heâ€™s determined to make her see that she belongs in Dead End. With him.
Her obstinate nature is intact, but he can deal with that. Itâ€™s the cold, detached woman sheâ€™s become that worries him. Melting that wallâ€”and reminding Miya of her rootsâ€”is going to take every hot, sinful moment he can wrangle.
Shawn hooked another bale of hay and maneuvered it into the barn. â€œLot can change in four years.â€
â€œWeâ€™re talking about my dad. Not us.â€ She followed him into the cooler recesses of the barn. A huge row of hay bales lined the farthest side of the barn. â€œBut thank you for helping him.â€
â€œNo thanks needed.â€ Every muscle strained as he lifted the bale into place. â€œYour folks are good people, and your Ma was worried when he fell after the reception. I was just in the right place at the right time.â€
â€œWait, what?â€ Miya watched her father enter the house.
He walked past her to grab another bale. â€œI guess he tripped. Iâ€™d stopped by to congratulate your sister on her wedding and your Ma asked me to look at his ankle. I figured she would have told you.â€
â€œShe didnâ€™t.â€ Miya took a deep breath to ease the guilt clawing at her throat. She was home, and she still didnâ€™t see what was right in front of her. â€œI should be thanking you.â€
He shook his head and adjusted his hat. â€œDonâ€™t need it. I did what anyone would do. Theyâ€™re my neighbors.â€
He knocked his gloves against his jeans a couple times before swiping at the hay clinging to his body. A few stray pieces clung to his hair and sweat-dampened skin, and she walked over to pluck them away. â€œStill. Itâ€™s not your responsibility and I want you to know I appreciate it.â€
He barely moved, at least it seemed that way. Must have been more than she realized since somehow, she found herself backed up against one of the tall support beams bracing the sagging rafters. A sinful smile creased his dust-streaked face. â€œItâ€™s my pleasure.â€
Candi Wall is probably the only person whose real name is more epic than any pseudonym she could have come up with â€“ even as an author! She writes because the voices in her head have to come out somehow. Animal rescue-ess, mother of four, and soccer mom by day, she spends her free time writing â€“ often on napkins at kidsâ€™ games because she never knows when a juicy story will reveal its delicious self. She once wrote a sex scene at a wrestling meet. Shhhhhh!
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