The New Guy In Town

He’s turning her town upside down!

It’s a dirty job, but someone has to be Blackwater Lake’s most eligible bachelor. Sexy newcomer Sam Hart goes through women like water. Florist Faith Connelly should know—she delivers the millionaire banker’s first-date rose, followed by the inevitable date number two break-up bouquet. But when Sam gallantly offers temporary shelter after a fire sweeps through town, it’s the single mother who could end up burned again.

The sassy town sweetheart, her adorable daughter and Sam all together under one roof? The divorced businessman even has the perfect flower for a third date with Faith—the one that could tempt him to risk his heart again. Could love be this money man’s bottom line after all?

He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.

The touch was meant to be sweet and tender but quickly turned hot and demanding. Sam traced her lips with his tongue and Faith opened to him. She settled her hands on his chest, pressing closer, and he slid an arm around her waist, holding her tighter.

The sound of their breathing filled his ears, drowning out the night sounds. He wanted her and she wanted him right back. But… There was that damn word again.

He lifted his head. “Faith, we can’t— There’s a—”

“Wedding reception,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah.” He stepped away from temptation and willed her to believe what he was going to say. “You should know this isn’t sudden—kissing you, I mean.”

“I know. It wasn’t for me either.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“I can’t say I haven’t wanted you to.”

“Okay, then.” He blew out a long breath. “Fair warning. At an appropriate time, there will be more kissing. And stuff. Unless you’re not interested. I’ll back off. Just say the word and—”

She shook her head. “I’m all in favor of…stuff.”

“Good.”

“It’s love I have a problem with.”

So did he. How perfect was that?

The Bachelors Of Blackwater Lake: They won’t be single for long!

The New Guy in Town

Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

To my father, Frank Boyle.

I learned to love reading and writing from you, and the lessons were priceless. Miss you, Dad.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Just because she’d sworn off men didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a gorgeous one. That explained Faith Connelly’s little heart flutter as Sam Hart walked briskly across the elegant lobby of his financial building before stopping in front of her flower cart.

“Don’t tell me,” she said to him. “You need to order a breakup bouquet. I can tell by the look on your face that date number two tanked.”

“That’s harsh.” But Sam smiled a slow, sexy smile that said she was right and the date from hell was completely his fault. He wore his willingness to own the blame like a badge of honor. “And how can you know that? Maybe I’m here to tell you that it was love at first sight.”

“Right.” She made a scoffing sound. “And I kissed a frog into a handsome prince. Seriously, Sam, do you want the usual sentiment on the card? ‘You’re fantastic, but this isn’t going to work.’ Or there’s the ever-popular ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ I can get more creative with the message if you’d like.”

He slid his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. He could wear jeans to work because he owned a multimillion-dollar financial company and set the dress code. Sometimes he wore a suit and that was a swoon-worthy look, too. “Give me a for instance.”

She thought for a moment then met his skeptical gaze. “How about this? It’s short, sweet, to the point and kind of poetic really. ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. This won’t work because you’re a shrew.’”

His mouth twitched, then he shook his head and laughed. When he did that he was so handsome it should be illegal. His brown hair was cut short, but there were hints that it would be curly if allowed to grow. The straight nose and square jaw alone would have women throwing their panties at him, but it was his eyes that sealed the deal. They were dark blue and full of glitter and sin and danger—if a girl wasn’t careful.

“Don’t give up your day job to write inspirational verses for greeting cards,” he said.

“The thought never crossed my mind. I love working with the flowers. And another perk of my job is torturing you about your women.”

“My women?” He put on an innocent act, pretending indignation. “You make me sound like the pharaoh with forty-seven wives.”

“If the shoe fits...” She was teasing. Mostly.