Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Coming next is His to Claim, JW and Maeve’s book and releases July 14th!
Amazon
Prologue
Maeve
One Month Earlier
“What did I get myself into now?” I mumble the words under my breath as the hostess leads me to the table. I’m on a date, I can’t believe I pulled the trigger. An online dating app lured me in late one night after hearing what JW had to say to his brothers. Yeah, let’s just say it set tonight in motion. I never thought dropping off cinnamon rolls to the big lug along with a few other sweet treats to the Johnson ladies would result in me leaving the ranch as fast as my feet could take me.
“Here’s your table, can I get you a drink while you wait?” I pull my chair out. The palm of my hands are slick with sweat and I rub them down the fabric of my high waisted wide leg turquoise pants. I paired the outfit with a pair of woven straw wedges and a floral thin strapped blouse. The best part of these pants is you can dress them up or down. A band tee with a pair of chucks and you’re good to go.
“Yes, an Aperol Sprits. Please and thank you,” I take my seat. The steakhouse here in Arrowleaf is excellent, they have great food and great drinks. They also have amazing desserts if I do say so myself. Whisked Away supplies them with desserts on a daily basis. Yesterday it was chocolate cake, chocolate on chocolate stored in the fridge because there is nothing better than a cold piece of cake on a hot summer day. Today’s special is cheesecake, three flavors, cherry, chocolate marble, and of course plain.
“You’re welcome, would you like a water as well too?” I nod in response, my thoughts a million miles away from where they should be. Replaying the reason I’m here in the first place. His words have set in my stomach like a lead weight, making me feel like all of the random orders, slight touches, or looks that had me flushing from my cheeks to my chest. One sentence took it all away, “She’s pretty, makes great cinnamon rolls, but she’s too innocent for me.” All of my hopes and dreams of being JW Johnson’s went out like a light. I left the cinnamon rolls and other pastries on the counter and quietly left the ranch. That was two weeks ago and also when I took the plunge to create an online dating profile.
You see, Tully, Birdie, and Juni may know how I feel about him, but they don’t know how JW feels about me. I didn’t say a word, girl code is one thing. Family is another entirely. Believe me, I understand the concept entirely. I’m close to my parents and siblings, we have Sunday dinners, have a massive group text where we all check-in daily. My two older sisters worry more than our mom and dad do. They’re currently tracking my location and are making sure I send them a text right away if the vibe feels off. I’m what you call an oops baby, Michelle is thirteen years older than me, and Madison is fifteen years older than me. They know what’s going on, our parents do not. My sisters may be protective, dad is next level, and mom has no problem showing her claws when necessary.
“Hello there, you must be Maeve. I’m Clayton,” my date says, drawing me out of my stupor. I stand up to greet him, my chair pushing back and only by sheer luck does it not slide back into another table. While I once thought it was cool the chairs were on rollers, I’m now second guessing the idea entirely with my almost mishap.
“Hi, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Blonde hair, brown eyes, a clean-shaven face, and a smile. Clayton is the exact opposite of JW in every way possible. Polo shirt to JW’s usual cotton shirt, khakis compared to jeans, and loafers whereas the object of my unwanted affection where’s boots. I’m already re-thinking this whole date thing when we shake hands.
No spark.
No tingling.
No clinching of my thighs together.
Nothing.
I take my hand back, slyly rubbing my hand on my pants yet again. Clayton isn’t giving off creep vibes. He’s just not doing anything for me.
“Hi, I’m Debbie and I’ll be your server tonight,” the waitress says as she places my water and Aperol Spritz on the table. Thankfully breaking the awkward silence between Clayton and myself.
“Thank you,” I say.
“What can I get for you?” She’s looking at Clayton, giving me ample time to drink some liquid courage. Michelle and Madison gave me a few pointers to keep the conversation flowing, each of them are married with kids yet living vicariously through their baby sisters. All their advice has gone out the window now that we’re face to face.