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After a whirlwind romance and a week in Vegas, the rockstar and the reporter have to once again face reality. They don't fit in each other's worlds. Grey Meadows, the drummer for Flintlock and Steel is known by his band members as the Professor, but he should be called the village idiot after letting the woman he loves walk away. Determined to win her back, Grey is willing to fly across two continents to rescue her, even if she doesn't need his help, or even be the best man in his cousin's wedding just to be near her. He's willing to give up everything to call her his. Morgan Henries is used…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
After a whirlwind romance and a week in Vegas, the rockstar and the reporter have to once again face reality. They don't fit in each other's worlds. Grey Meadows, the drummer for Flintlock and Steel is known by his band members as the Professor, but he should be called the village idiot after letting the woman he loves walk away. Determined to win her back, Grey is willing to fly across two continents to rescue her, even if she doesn't need his help, or even be the best man in his cousin's wedding just to be near her. He's willing to give up everything to call her his. Morgan Henries is used to being self-reliant. She doesn't work well with others, and doesn't know how to be a couple. She's afraid to trust her heart, its been broken before. After coming off an assignment from hell, the last place she wants to be is back on Ocracoke, but her best friend is getting married and she promised to be her maid-of-honor. The thought of seeing Grey again is terrifying, her heart is too battered to guard against him. She doesn't want to want him, and she refuses to need him, but he's the first thought when she wakes and the last image in her head when she falls asleep. This is going to be a challenging wedding week. She just has to remember they don't fit.
Autorenporträt
People have often asked me why I don't write about my adventures raising six sons. I have to admit that I prefer to write their stories as fiction because no one believes the stuff they put me through if I tell it as fact. In fiction I can clean my boys up a little when I like them and make them the heroes of my stories and if they’ve pissed me off, I can make them the villains. It’s been a running joke around our house that mom will put you in her book and kill you off on page fifty, but some know they’re the smelly corpse discovered in the ditch at the very beginning of the story. Heck, it’s not even a threat anymore my grandkids are begging to be put in my books and even telling me how I can kill them off. I mean really, where’s the threat in that? We put the fun in dysfunctional, what can I say? I have long conversations with my children and grandchildren about blowing things up and how to get rid of bodies. The holidays are never boring around our house.