RELEASE BLITZ WITH EXCERPT: Sunlight by Devney Perry
SUNLIGHT, a sweeping and emotional new accidental pregnancy, workplace, cowboy romance from USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author, Devney Perry, is available now!
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Jax is a distraction I cannot afford…
My first day in Montana, I got into a tug-of-war over a grocery store shopping cart. The most handsome man I’d ever seen broke up the scuffle before he asked me on a date. I was seconds away from accepting but then he told me his name.
As an owner of the Haven River Ranch, Jax Haven wasn’t my boss. But he wasn’t not my boss either.
Obviously, my only option was to turn him down, scurry away, then pretend like he was a stranger on my first day of work. And obviously, I could never, ever admit that he was my secret crush.
For as hard as I work at my job, I work twice as hard to pretend Jax doesn’t exist. I don’t let myself think about his dazzling eyes or charming smile. I refuse to acknowledge how good he looks in a pair of faded Wrangler jeans. And as tempting as he is in a cowboy hat, Jax is a distraction I cannot afford.
Everything was going according to plan until the annual holiday party. Until I drank one too many flutes of champagne and let him sweep me off my feet. After a night in his bed, there was no more ignoring Jax Haven. Not when I’m pregnant with his baby.
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Narrated by Stephen Dexter and Ava Erickson
“Sizzling with electric chemistry and rich in emotional depth…” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads
EXCERPT:
The growl that echoed across the IGA’s parking lot sounded more animal than human. “I’m calling the cops.”
What the hell? The grocery store’s double doors slid closed behind me just as I spotted Carla, the owner, facing off with another woman. Both clutched opposite ends of a shopping cart teeming with paper bags.
“I’m not stealing.” The other woman gave the cart a tug. “I swear. Please. I just need to borrow this. I will bring it back.”
Carla huffed. “You expect me to believe that bullshit?”
My truck was parked on the other end of the lot, but rather than head home, I walked toward the commotion instead.
“Give. This. Back.” Carla jerked on the cart with each word, yanking so hard that the woman was nearly pulled off her feet.
“Please. These are my groceries. I just bought them. I only need to take them home.” She flung out an arm. “It’s three blocks. I’ll be there and back in less than fifteen minutes.”
“You’re not stealing my cart.”
“I’m not stealing—”
“Ladies.” The tug-of-war stopped the instant I put my hand on the cart’s metal basket. “Everything all right?”
“No, it’s not all right.” Carla’s face was flushed as she whipped her attention in my direction. Her cheeks were as red as her fiery hair. “She’s stealing my cart.”
The other woman opened her mouth, then clamped it shut, taking a breath as she composed herself. Then she looked up to me, and my heart skipped.
Beautiful brown eyes. Long, straight hair in the same rich chocolate shade, the strands so sleek they reflected the bright afternoon sun. A heart-shaped face with delicate features and a dusting of freckles across her cute nose.
Damn. Who was she? Definitely not someone I’d seen around town before. Hers was a face I would have remembered.
“I walked from my house to the store.” She enunciated every word with a calm, smooth voice. Every syllable worked to defuse the tension.
Any other person and she probably would have succeeded. Except Carla was . . . Carla. Rationality was not on her strengths list.
“I assumed the bags would be plastic,” the woman said.
Ah. There was the mistake. Carla hated plastic.
“I hate plastic.” Carla seethed. “It’s bad for the environment.”
The woman held up one hand while the other kept a firm grasp on the cart’s handle. “I’m not arguing. I just assumed the bags would be plastic, and I could carry more than one at a time to my house three blocks away. I cannot carry all of these paper bags.”
The cart had at least six plus a gallon of milk.
“You checked me out,” the woman said, her pretty gaze pleading with Carla. “I bought ice cream to celebrate moving. I just want to get it home and in the freezer before it melts.”
Carla pursed her lips.
“Okay.” I dug out my wallet and plucked out a hundred-dollar bill.
“Carla, how much are these carts?”
“Two hundred and seventy dollars plus shipping.”
Of course, she had the price memorized. Carla might not be exactly levelheaded, but she ran her business with an iron fist.
“Take this.” I took out two more hundreds and held up the money. “It’s a deposit. I’ll escort the cart to this woman’s house and back. If I never return, you’ll have enough to buy a new cart.”
“Fine.” Carla snatched the bills so quickly that she almost gave me a paper cut. Then she shot the woman a lethal glare before storming away.
“Oh my God.” The woman let go of the cart, finally, lifting both hands to rub her temples. “I don’t know if I should be furious or mortified.”
I chuckled. “Carla gets a little worked up at times.”
“Wow.” She blew out a long breath. “Should I expect this every time I come to the store?”
“Nah. The only other time I’ve seen her this fired up was when she caught her son shoplifting condoms when we were teenagers. She still likes to throw that in his face, but it’s only been fifteen years.”
“Only fifteen?” The corner of her pink mouth turned up. God, she was pretty.
“Eventually Carla will let this go. It might take a couple decades, but I wouldn’t give up hope.”
She dropped her gaze to the cart, that faint smile still on her lips. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
“You don’t need to escort the cart to my house. I promise to return it.”
“Carla is, without a doubt, watching from the window. I’m not taking a chance that I’ll land on her bad side, so you can either let me drive you or we can walk the three blocks. Just know that if you choose the ride, I’ll immediately dive into a lecture about getting into vehicles with strangers.”
“No lecture needed. I’ll walk, thanks. But I’m not sure I want a stranger who I met in the grocery store’s parking lot to know where I live either.”
“Fair point.” I chuckled. “I can produce references. The sheriff is a good friend. We can give him a call to come down and attest to my character. Though, chances are, your ice cream won’t survive the wait.”
“Then I guess for the sake of my cookies and cream, the walk is a risk I’ll have to take.” She gripped the cart’s handle and started for the sidewalk. “Sorry about this. I’m keeping you from your own shopping.”
“It’s all good. My shopping is done.” I dug the scratch tickets I’d bought inside from my jeans pocket, holding them up before tucking them away again. “I have a deal with my grandpa. Every week, I buy him lottery tickets from the two gas stations in town and the grocery store. In exchange, my grandma cooks me dinner once or twice a week.”
“So your grandfather has the chance to win money, and you get free meals. What about your grandma? Seems like she’s getting shortchanged.”
“Well . . . I do give her hugs when I go over for dinner.”
She raised two perfectly arched eyebrows.
I leaned in closer. “I’m really good at hugs.”
Her eyes sparkled as she let out a quiet laugh. She settled into a swift, natural pace.
The cart’s wheels were a rattle along the concrete, drowning out the muffled thud of my cowboy boots as the first block disappeared too quickly.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone who walks as fast as you.” Normally, I’d shorten my stride to walk beside a woman, but not this one. “I’m guessing it has nothing to do with the ice cream, does it?”
“I walk fast.” She shrugged as we reached the first corner, each of us checking both ways before crossing the intersection. Then we were on the sidewalk again, already barreling down block number two.
Except I wasn’t ready for this walk to be over quite yet. Not quite so fast.
“Tell me a lie.”
She slowed—mission accomplished—and her eyebrows knit together. “Huh?”
“A lie. Tell me one.”
“Why?”
“Why not? A lie seems more interesting than small talk.”
About Devney Perry:
Devney Perry is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author of over forty romance novels. After working in the technology industry for a decade, she abandoned conference calls and project schedules to pursue her passion for writing. She was born and raised in Montana and now lives in Washington with her husband and two sons.
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