Tangle (Dogwood Lane #2) by Adriana Locke
Sparks fly between a die-hard romantic and a sexy cynic in this fresh, funny romance from USA Today bestselling author Adriana Locke.
That cream-filled, caramel-topped doughnut should have been hers. Still, Haley Raynor can’t deny that the pastry thief with the dreamy blue eyes looks even more delicious. But moving in on a handsome devil like Trevor Kelly is bad news for a die-hard romantic like Haley. Trevor doesn’t believe in love. She does. Giving in to a fling and Trevor’s irresistible charms can’t end well. Can it? What can it hurt to give it a shot?
Girls always fall for Trevor, and in the end, he always ends up looking like a bad-boy cad. Still, spending some time with Haley and her smart-talking, kissable mouth sounds pretty perfect. Besides, he’s only going to be in Dogwood Lane for one week. How much trouble could they possibly get into?
The only answer? A “no falling in love” contract. All Trevor and Haley have to do is follow the rules and resist the attraction sizzling between them…before their hearts get completely tangled up in temptation.
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“Did you just buy my coffee?” I ask.
“You know what goes good with coffee …” I look at his plate and then back to him. All he does is laugh.
He gets to his feet, unfolding a body that’s taller, and harder, than I expected. His jeans are coupled with a grey and black flannel that fits him well enough to see the lines of his body. The curve of his biceps, the dip of his waist, and the slight angle from his shoulder to his neck is divine.
“Are you finished?” he asks.
I zip a line from his boots to his face. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to walk out of here until you’ve finished appreciating me.” He grins. “If you’re done, I do need to go.”
A full-on blush covers my body and, when he laughs, I wonder if he’s thinking it’s the same color as my panties. This makes me blush more.
“You are not the gentleman I hoped you were,” I say, failing to hide a laugh.
He smiles devilishly, assessing me as he shoves his wallet back in his pocket. Then, with a pained expression and a dose of hesitation for my benefit, he slides his plate in front of me. “Here. You can have my donut. I know it’s not all you wanted, but it’ll have to do. I’m late.” He takes a cup from Claire for the road.
“I didn’t hear anything you said after ‘You can have my donut’,” I say, sticking my finger in the middle of the pastry. “But thanks.”
“They have forks, you know.”
“I know. But I wanted to make sure you didn’t ask for it back.” A warmth spreads through my middle as he laughs.