This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Erika and Kim will be awarding a $15 Starbucks card to a randomly drawn winner during the tour via the rafflecopter at the end of this post.
Willamena Dunn is having a lousy week. Not only is her baby sister about to marry into the family of Dunn-Right Preservation’s biggest professional rival, but the historic bungalow of her dreams has just been bought by the most infuriating (not to mention exceedingly handsome and notoriously wicked) man to ever hammer a nail in Magnolia Bay, Knox Loveless.
But when Knox offers her a wager she can’t refuse, a bet with the coveted bungalow as its prize, Willa is sure her bad luck might finally be turning around—until Knox surprises her with a passionate kiss, and suddenly all bets are off.
Could this be just another one of Knox Loveless’ games, or will two rivals finally surrender to a long-simmering attraction and declare a truce once and for all?
Darcy Vance has sunk every cent she has into making Mimosa House the best bed and breakfast in Magnolia Bay. But the key to her success lies in the hands of the Historic Preservation Society run by the Bloom bitches who are embarrassed about their father’s connection to the storied house and they have no intention of validating it with a spot on the society’s registry.
After losing his PGA card, Trent Mauldin has come home to Magnolia Bay to lick his wounds and has no plans to stay. Until he falls for Darcy. Things heat up between the two until Trent’s good intentions to help Darcy go sideways. While Darcy works to save her house, Trent fights to win her back and keep her in Magnolia Bay for good.
Enjoy an excerpt from Sweet Home Carolina
Kim Boykin
©Copyright 2014
The ancient clock that came with the house chimed the hour. As I shinnied down the ladder, I ran through the to-do list in my head—shower at ten, hair appointment at eleven, then back to the grind of turning Mimosa House into a stellar bed-and-breakfast. My brain counted the bongs as they reverberated off of the walls of my new lease on life that came with a seven-figure mortgage. Nine. Ten. Eleven. “Eleven? Shit.”
I stepped into my good flip-flops by the front door, the ones with hardly any paint on them, grabbed my purse and keys, and sprinted toward the Jeep.
“Yankee.” The hiss came from my lovely neighbor, Mr. Hunsucker, who was somewhere between five and a hundred and five years old and wasn’t at all happy I was opening a B&B. He was watering the prize roses he’d accused me of pilfering on more than one occasion. Okay, so when I thought no one was looking, I’d pulled a spent blossom off, just to smell it, which made me a flower thief and a Yankee.
“Good morning, Mr. Hunsucker,” I called and then ducked into the Jeep before the spray drenched my windshield. Missed me.
Looking up at him in my rearview mirror, he only held up his middle finger a few seconds this time. A new record. Yep, I was definitely growing on him.
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Tule Publishing
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Tule Publishing
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