Famous last words: I don’t need a man!
Little did I know I’d be eating those words as fast as the customers at my diner ate my pie!
I tried my best to tell the bossy biker who swung into my one-stoplight town that the kind of pie he wanted wasn’t on my menu. But he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse—three days, no strings, and all the pie he could eat.
I might have sworn off men, but it’s hard to say no to the beast of a man with the ability to make my panties disappear with a single glance. But the one thing I won’t be serving up is my heart. Been there, done that, have the hideous wedding dress to prove it.
Come Monday, the rough and wild biker will ride out of town and out of my life forever. Unless he can convince me that making room for him in my heart and my small town life is easy as apple pie.
Author’s Note: If you don’t like stories about bikers and jilted brides packed with pie references, go eat a salad. If you do, prepare to have your heart melted and your kindle burst into flames. Proceed at your own risk.
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