Spring Flings & Wedding Rings by Riley Rowan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Riley Rowan
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 9.6 MB
- Price: Free
Is it a Bear?
What the fu…”
I’m knocked backwards as a cold, wet nose buries itself
into my cleavage. A series of snuffly grunts follow, wiry fur fills my vision,
and a rough tongue laps at my face. My first thought is to panic. Obviously.
Why wouldn’t it be? I’m being attacked. By a bear. Or a mountain lion. Or
a yeti.
My mouth stuffed with this abundance of impenetrable fluff, I can’t
breathe, and as whatever it is sits squarely on my chest, I can’t get up, or
even scream for help.
A strong voice barks, “Off! Now!”
It brings with it a moment of clarity. I’m camping in the New Forest,
there are no bears or mountain lions here, and definitely no mythical things
from Himalayan folklore.
In less of a panic, the mass of what I can now make out is a grey and
black brindle coat, thick and coarse, retreats and, as the face comes into
focus, I can’t help but grin. I was actually kind of right.
“Bear?”
Deep amber eyes stare into mine, a goofy, doggy grin fixed on his
face as I reach out and stroke his gigantic head and long, pointed muzzle.
And then it hits me. If this is Bear, then the owner of the voice
outside must be—
“James?”
“Huh? Is that… No! Katie?” the voice questions.
“Yeah,” I squeak, heart beating double time as a hand appears
through the flap of my tent and wrestles with an over-excited dog.
Except Bear isn’t having any of it, won’t be moved easily, and as
man battles canine, it’s man that loses out, falls forward, and his head
appears inside the tent.
Yep, it’s him. James Knight. Fuck. Of all the men I could have
bumped into today, it had to be him. Six-foot-five of pure muscle and…
Hold on, this isn’t the James I know. There’s no suit and tie, no cleanshaven face and gelled hair. Instead, there’s a mountain man. Tall, unkempt,
beard just that little too long, and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. A t-shirt that
stretches across his chest and hugs his biceps in a way that makes my
recently lacking sex drive rev its engine in excitement.
As 180 pounds of Irish Wolfhound is finally pulled off me, I gulp in
mouthfuls of life-bringing air and eventually manage to sit up. It’s only
when James’ gaze drops to my chest that I remember I’m in the middle of
changing and hastily pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. At
least my underwear matches today, but scraps of white cotton adorned with
tiny pink flowers probably aren’t enough to protect my modesty. Though,
it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before.
He backs hastily out of the tent and I fumble in my backpack for my
clothes, pulling on denim cut-offs and a pale pink vest top in record time.
Not an easy feat in a one-person tent you can’t stand up in.
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