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Wrap Me Up

Wrap Me Up

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Wrap Me Up

4.5/5 (8 Bewertungen)
65 Seiten
1 Stunde
Dec 5, 2019


Thomas "Blue" Miller is expecting a visit from the marketing executive whose radio station is featuring his Christmas tree farm in a holiday promotion. What he's not expecting is the marketing executive to be his first love, the woman who at eighteen turned down his marriage proposal and left September, Texas, never to be heard from again.

Jessie Buchanan has come to see Blue under false pretenses. Her station's holiday promotion has her remembering the man she left behind, the man she still loves and fears she always will. The man she knew would never leave the town that holds the worst memories of her life. Unfortunately, it also holds the best—those of loving and being loved by Blue.

Will one more night in his bed prove her memories false and allow her to finally move on? Or will this Christmas be the beginning of something even better than before for them both?

Dec 5, 2019

Über den Autor

A native Texan, Alison (who is also the author of the RITE OF WRONGS procedural thriller written as Mica Stone) sold one of the first of her over fifty published works live on the "Isn't It Romantic?" episode of CBS 48 Hours. The resulting book, CALL ME, was a Romantic Times finalist for Best First Series Book. Alison's book, A LONG, HARD RIDE, part of Harlequin's 60th Anniversary celebration, was nominated for an RT Reviewer's Choice Award for Best Harlequin Blaze of 2009. STRIPTEASE, a 2003 release from Harlequin Blaze and part of her popular gIRL-gEAR series, was also an RT Reviewer's Choice Award nominee. Her 2005 Kensington Brava release, THE BEACH ALIBI, was a nominee for the national Quill Awards, sponsored by Reed Business Information. Alison is also the author of THE COMPLETE IDIOT'S GUIDE TO WRITING EROTIC ROMANCE, and her 2009 novel, NO LIMITS, was a Cosmopolitan Magazine Red Hot Read. THE SECOND CHANCE CAFE, the first in her Hope Springs series from Amazon Montlake, was a 2014 RITA finalist in contemporary romance. If there's a better career out there than writing, she doesn't want to know about it, as she's quite happy putting pen to paper in the backyard of her Texas home. That's where she lives with her petroleum geologist husband, their pack of rescue dogs, and a colony of not-quite-feral cats, battling the heat each year to raise a bumper crop of tomatoes and jalapeno peppers.

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Wrap Me Up - Alison Kent


Chapter One

THE LAST TIME JESSIE Buchanan had seen Thomas Blue Miller he’d been walking out of her life.

He’d left her standing in the middle of a long gravel road, left her looking through watery eyes at shoulders too broad to belong to a boy of eighteen, at legs longer than she’d ever realized when she’d felt them heavy and warm and tangled naked with her own.

For ten years now she’d revisited the mental image, wondering what Blue had been thinking, his head held so high after she’d told him that, no, love wasn’t enough of a reason for her to stay, wasn’t enough of a reason to spend her life in a town that, in eighteen years, had never felt like home.

He had felt like home, but he’d been bound to September, Texas, by ties she’d never been able to understand.

Get over it, Jess. The ties were unbreakable. Blue never had any intention of living anywhere but in the one town you couldn’t wait to put behind you.

And if that fundamental difference wasn’t the foundation for a doomed relationship then she hadn’t learned much since leaving. Of course, there was always the possibility she hadn’t learned anything at all, considering she was back here in September and on her way to see Blue.

Approaching the railroad crossing at the city limits, Jessie slowed her low-slung sports car, remembering how many unsuspecting oil pans had met their fate on the seemingly mild-mannered bump in the road. The locals knew better than to take the lazy rise at face value because of its wicked backside drop.

Crawling up and over the tracks, she coasted to a stop at the first of the city’s two traffic lights. The fact that she knew when and where to drive with caution didn’t sit all that well. Taking the girl out of the country had apparently been more of a sure thing than wringing the country from the girl. Not that September was exactly a world away from Dallas, her home for six years now.

It just seemed that way, she thought, as the light changed and the car purred into town, what with Soup’s Auto located immediately—and conveniently—between the tracks and the traffic signal, the Dime & Dollar on the far end of the next block, city hall on the near side, and the mayor’s house smack-dab in between.

The town resembled so many of the other dots on the map she’d driven through since leaving her condo at noon. But subtle nuances still separated September from the others. Nuances noticeable only by a native. Or a long-lost daughter returning home.

No. Not returning. Never returning. Visiting. This was a short vacation and nothing more. Still, she could hardly deny that eighteen years spent in this town gave meaning to the places she drove past.

Places like Miller’s Feed and Supply.

The white frame building sat alone at the far end of town, the location allowing for the constant flow of stock trailers and dual-axle pickups without getting in the way of folks needing to get to the post office or to Debbie Does Hair-Dooz or to the First Baptist Church on Wednesday nights.

And behind the wooden structure loomed a thoroughly modern and huge barn-red . . . barn.

Jessie knew from her Internet research that Blue was doing all right for himself. The addition to the original location now served as Miller’s regional supply center, warehousing the stock for the extremely profitable chain of family-owned stores.

She had to admit a bit of a thrill, however, seeing that the business’s first structure still stood, little changed since the days Blue had chased her up and down the aisles, letting her twist free when he caught her, until neither of them had the will to wait one minute more.

Jessie shivered, pushing the thought away. Or at least giving it her best shot.

But memories of Blue’s naked body, memories of being as physically close to him as a woman could possibly be to a man—memories of her head on his chest, her hand deep between his legs, his arm wrapped around her with such desperation that their bodies seemed more one than two—were not easily buried. Especially when those very memories had brought her here.

It was late in the day, at least by September, Texas, standards, yet Jessie kept her sunglasses in place, deflecting both the final rays of the setting sun and the curious glances that had tracked her westward progress through town. Now nothing lay ahead but the highway that would take her to Blue . . . and his Christmas tree farm.

If anything in her snooping surprised her, the discovery that Blue had converted

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