Also in this series: Taking a Chance Also by this author: Taking a Chance Taking a Chance by Maggie McGinnis
Published by Loveswept (Penguin Random House) on November 7, 2017
Genres: Contemporary, Romance
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A fun-loving troublemaker gives a workaholic Southern gal a real taste of Montana magic at the one and only Whisper Creek Ranch.
A rising star in the corporate world, Emma Winthrop enjoys the view from her cubicle in sunny Florida. But when she’s dispatched to a nursing home in Whisper Creek for three months of field experience, she discovers a slice of heaven made of mountains and mayhem—mostly in the form of rugged, drop-dead gorgeous Jasper Stone, who grinds his specialty beans at the town’s best coffee shop in between organizing dodge-ball games and wheelchair races in Emma’s hallways.
When Jasper walks in on this beautiful angel in silky purple underwear trying to rinse out her blouse, it’s a breathtaking view—even for a Montana native. Wreaking havoc here at Shady Acres keeps his dad in good spirits, but getting under Emma’s skin is proving to be even more fun. Jasper knows that he’s falling faster than a man with his past has any right to, but his body and his heart have a mind of their own. And Emma appears to be claiming both.
He snapped off a long blade of grass. “Did you ever learn how to play a grass whistle?”
“Um, no. Didn’t know that was a thing.”
“Totally is.” He pressed his thumbs together with the grass between them, then lifted his hands to his mouth and blew. The sound that came out made Emma laugh out loud.
“That sounds like a dying bird.”
“Does not.” He blew again, and it was even worse. “I have it on good authority that it actually sounds like a hippopotamus’s mating call.”
She laughed again as she sat up. “Who in your circle of weirdos even knows what a hippo’s mating call sound like?”
“Well, if I hear hooves coming our way, I’m getting on Honeydrop there and leaving you at the hippos’ mercy. Just saying.”
“Here.” He picked her a blade of grass. “You try it.”
“I have no desire to call in a herd of hippos, thanks.”
“They’re not native. No worries. Worst thing you’ll do is tick off the resident moose
Her eyes popped open. “No desire to meet those, either, thanks.”
“Just try it.”
“Fine.” She sighed, trying to position the grass the way she’d seen him do it. She
raised her hands to her mouth and blew, but no sound came out besides her own air.
“Harder than it looks to call in a hippo, isn’t it?”
“I can do it.” She inhaled, then blew again. Nothing. “Huh. My grass is defective.”
He smiled. “Try another piece.”
She picked one, lifted it, and tried again. Still nothing. “Must be a country-boy skill.”
“I’m from L.A.”
“Want some help?”
“Nope.” She blew again. “Fine. Yes, please. Because now it’s a thing. I didn’t even
know it was a thing I didn’t know how to do, but now it is. So I need to know. Now.”
Her words faded as she realized he was watching her lips, and the way he was watching her
lips—oh, hell—was sending streaks of liquid longing straight to all the places.
“It’s all in the lips,” he finally said, and was it her imagination, or did his voice sound a little strangled?
“All in the lips.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. What do I do with the lips?”
“May I?” He reached toward her mouth with one hand, touching her top lip with his
index finger, then sliding it slowly around to the bottom. “Here and . . . here. Tighten
those up, and you’ll be good to go.”
It was all she could do not to kiss his finger, all she could do not to wrap her lips around it and pull it into her mouth . . . all she could do not to close her eyes and beg him to kiss her.
“Okay,” she said. “Got it.”
He pulled his hand away, but his eyes stayed focused on her lips, and she knew it was because he was checking to see if she did it correctly, but holy hell. The heat in those eyes!
She pulled her hands up to her mouth and took a deep breath, blowing as hard as she could. A strangled-duck sort of sound came out, but hey. It was a sound.
He laughed. “See? All in the lips.”