Dakota Sunshine

Life is good when your cubical is as big as the prairie. Not many women would agree. Brooke, on the other hand, had been a tomboy since the doctor cut the cord, separating her from the feminine, and allowing her to run with the males of the family.

She hasn’t slowed down since.

Chapter One Excerpt

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The summer before The Storm

Julie leaned forward, her expression borderline bitchy. “Twenty bucks says you won’t go over to his place with a hot dish and introduce yourself.”

Twenty bucks said she’d be right.

Brooke Evans took a sip of her pop and glanced out of the Roadhouse’s window to the impressive, shiny silver truck parked next to hers—and to the more impressive owner, who just happened to be her new next-door neighbor. The mid-summer sun was relentless today, absolutely frying the inhabitants of Garner, town of three hundred—give or take a few dozen. The temperature hovered in the mid-nineties with a damn good deal of humidity thrown into the mix.

By the looks of him, her new neighbor had already worked his tail off. He was leaning against the bed of his truck in the parking lot, casually shooting the shit with one of the guys from the implement in town. His white T-shirt was sweat-stained, dirty, and stretched tightly across his chest, straw cowboy hat pulled low to shield his eyes. She couldn’t see much of his face, but that was one of the greatest accomplishments of a cowboy hat. Most women didn’t give a rat’s ass that a cowboy hat was actually designed to keep the sun off your face and neck.

Truth was, thanks to the cowboy hat, that man was a living, breathing fantasy standing ten or so feet away from her, leaning against his raised truck. Mostly because it shrouded the man in mystery.

A couple days’ worth of whiskers shaded the lower half of his face. Full lips pulled back in a half-grin, showing off straight, white teeth. Toned, tanned arms with corded muscles in his forearms and rounded muscle in his shoulders.

She could sit there all day and just watch him.

That’s all a woman needed—the fantasy. Because once you pulled that hat off, and the cowboy started talking, reality was a hard pill to swallow.