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When an entrepreneur and an Army reservist end up in their own reality show fauxmance, they have to decide whether their love exists just for the cameras Bryn Aquino, the former manager of a Filipino restaurant, knows the value of hard work. Excited, Bryn happily agrees to the arrangement As their relationship heats up and the cameras keep rolling, the line between show and reality blurs.
And when the pressures of family, business, and the audience stack against them, will their romance survive internet stardom? Or was it just for show? She believes and writes about the strength of families, the endurance of friendship, heartfelt romances, and is inspired daily by her own military hero husband and four children.
I had a smile on my face the entire time I was reading this book! I definitely look forward to seeing where the series goes next. Lovers of food trucks and San Francisco will especially get a kick out of this fun contemporary romance. I love second chance love stories and when Drew and Camille cross paths again, you get a perfect sweet swoony romance with a bit of forbidden love.
Debut author? A heroine who owns a food truck? A hero who is a super good guy and gets a second chance at wooing his girl? Definitely give this one a try. This is wonderful, lighthearted second chance foodie romance!
Tell us what you like and we'll recommend books you'll love. up and get a free ebook! East in Paradise Book 2 of Journey to the Heart. By Tif Marcelo. Table of Contents Excerpt Rave and Reviews. About The Book. Now, everything is a production: the predictable turn of faces when I walk through the glass front door. The good-neighbor greeting when the customers see me, and then. Utensils clatter to a stop. The whir of the cappuccino machine frother ceases. Tourists huddled over their cups of hot cocoa, wearing Gold Country hats and T-shirts, raise their eyebrows as if I were the leprechaun himself.
But I suck it up, square my shoulders anyway, and casually salute. It earns me a round of applause. Plus, Sam Cornelius is like family and a Golden original. The man gave me my first taste of coffee when I was twelve. Granny would kill me for being rude, and crossing that eighty-something-year-old woman is not something I ever intend to do. The aroma hits my nostrils, and my blood pressure rises to living status. Just enough oomph to get me to smile. Or, not so little anymore.
The years have put what looks like two feet on her, and braces and the coffee shop apron have replaced the pigtails and overalls she used to wear. Her eyes examine me. Want a banana muffin to go? Eliza Cornelius has one hand on the cappuccino machine and the other on her hip, eyes trained on her daughter. And she told Grandma Cornelius what you need is a woman.
The things kids say. She goes on about felines and how she wishes she could get a cat. Poor Mitchell Dunford. He had a rough go at it overseas. How is he ever going to get that vineyard up and running? From the rumors that have circulated since I came home. The girl slaps me five, swiping the coin, beaming.
Vintage brick and old siding, windowsills painted in teal and red. Galvanized iron cornices with intricate patterns. Cashing in on tourists, Golden got smart in the last decade and renovated Main Street using historical records to restore it all to its glory. Now, tour companies have put our little town on their map, sending buses to flood our brick-lined streets with smog. They bring droves of tourists with selfie sticks and steady business to our Gold Rush Museum and local establishments. Nice for cash flow, but Golden no longer feels like home.
My brothers and I used to take Main Street by storm on our skateboards and scooters on Sunday mornings when it was quieter than a ghost town. Tucking my chin into my chest, I trek to the city square. While rounding the corner quickly, with the comfort of a park bench in mind, I hear a pop in the distance. My heart rate rockets as my eyes dart to the left, and I glimpse a car with a flat tire pulling off to the side. Just before I barrel into a person coming around the corner. Crushing the cardboard cup against my hand. She bends over at the waist and a waterfall of my daily wake-up pours onto the sidewalk.
Leaning into the woman, I pat the front of her shirt with mine. With her long black hair draped over one shoulder and covering half her face, she appraises me suspiciously. Did I burn you? Just fucking wet, and late. The woman is gorgeous and ferocious. Mahogany eyes, golden brown skin, a flower tattoo that starts behind her ear and snakes along her neck. Another tattoo peeks out of her shirtsleeve at her wrist. I really need to work on my poker face. Though I find this woman intriguing and am tempted to ask what kind of business she has in Golden, first things first. Really, I am.
Lemme get you a shirt. She looks at the storefront with T-shirts filling the window. With ones that say I? Her face twists into a frown and her eyes bounce to me, then back to the store. I just need to go. She flips her wrist and looks at her watch, then as if making a decision, heaves a sigh. The woman approaches the first rack, sifts through a couple of hangers, and shoves a shirt into my hand. She waits for me near the front door. Silas Rau, first-generation Golden, tips his head at the glowering woman while he rings me up. Dinner even. Her shirt is sopping wet, from the collar down to its hem.
My insides twist. As tourists glide past, I hand her the shirt. I just need to get out of here. Um, thanks. The white back of her shirt disappears over the crest of the hill, taking with her the momentary excitement of the day. My adrenaline crashes, and I realize that, dammit, I need another cup of coffee. About The Author. Franchesca Cole. Tif Marcelo. Product Details.
Zip Code. Thank you!Fuck book Paradise
email: [email protected] - phone:(440) 475-5118 x 2969
I'm a free spirit and the highway to paradise