Exclusive Excerpt of Coming Up Roses by LK Farlow
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I have had the opportunity to ‘meet’ and get to know debut author LK Farlow, and she is just the sweetest person! Coming Up Roses, has been on my radar for a while, you see… the heroine is pregnant and stories with single parents and pregnancies are my own personal crack. I can’t and refuse to stop loving them! I just started my advance copy of Coming Up Roses and I can’t wait for it to be in everyone’s hands!
Series: Southern Roots #1
Released August 30, 2017
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Myla Rose McGraw may be twenty, single, and pregnant, but she’s no damsel in distress. She doesn’t need a man. After all, her Grams taught her a thing or two about making lemonade out of life’s lemons.
Then she meets Cash Carson.
Reeling from a bad breakup, Cash has sworn off love. It led to nothing but pain and misery, and he’s determined to move forward alone.
Until a redheaded Southern beauty crashes into him. With her shopping cart. At the local Piggly Wiggly.
If love wasn’t for him, why did his heart beat a little faster every time Myla Rose sent that sweet smile his way?
He was no knight, and she didn’t need saving.
But damn if he didn’t want to try anyway.
COMING UP ROSES is a sweet, Southern fairy tale—with a twist.
Without further ado, here is a sweet and sexy excerpt for you!
“You ready for what’s sure to be the best part of your day, Cash Carson?”
“Lead the way, darlin’.”
“The best part of my day is standin’ in this long ass line?” I goad her.
“No. The best part is at the end of this line. C’mon.”
During our wait, we talk about everything and nothing all at once. I feel so damn comfortable in her presence that the long minutes we spend waiting seem to pass in the blink of an eye.
At the halfway point in the line, they have a small table where a woman’s selling . . . tickets? No words are exchanged. Myla Rose just holds up two fingers and passes her a twenty-dollar bill before I can think to grab my wallet. By the time the lady hands back her change, I’m scrambling to not look like an ass.
“Myla, let me—”
She gently pushes my wallet back to me. “This is my treat. You’ve never experienced this greatness, and I am excited to be the one to give it to you.”
Now, I know she doesn’t mean anything dirty, but my mind . . . yeah, he’s not on the same page. My thoughts are racing a mile a minute over all the greatness she could give me.
“How many?” the lady barks from inside her booth.
“Two, please.” Myla Rose hands her our tickets in exchange for two of the most over-the-top strawberry shortcakes I’ve ever seen. I’m talking huge, fluffy cuts of angel food cake covered with a mixture of fresh strawberries and compote, with a fluffy whipped cream mountain as its crowning glory.
Myla Rose hands one to me, and together, we head to the makeshift pavilion where they’ve set up folding tables and chairs. Once seated, Myla wastes no time digging into hers.
“Damn, girl. You gonna eat all that?”
“Eating for two, you know.” She giggles and pats her belly.
“Something tells me you devour this cake every year, no matter what.”
She snaps her forefinger and thumb together. “Aww, you caught me.” I can’t help but to smile at how carefree and cute she is. For the first time, she finally seems totally at ease in my presence—and that feels like a victory.
She takes the last bite of her shortcake, and we both stand to throw away our plates. It’s then I notice she has a little whipped cream on her bottom lip. I reach out to wipe it with my thumb at the same time she goes to lick it away. Her tongue swipes across my skin, and I’m hit with white-hot need. I need this woman. To taste that whipped cream straight from her lips.
Our plates long forgotten, we lean toward one another until our lips meet—a soft brush at first, exploratory. Shifting my hand to cup her jaw, I angle her exactly how I want her. She gasps softly, allowing me to deepen our kiss. I lick my tongue against hers, drinking down her sweet strawberry flavor. She runs her hands up and around my neck, her nails digging lightly into my shirt collar . . . gripping, grasping, wanting. I work my other arm around her waist, my hand resting just above the sweet curve of her ass. She presses her body in closer to mine, so close that I can feel her heartbeat against my ribs. It beats a fast rhythm, full of want and desire. I’m lost in her. Lost in her taste and the sound of her soft moans. Lost until someone loudly clears their throat, reminding us that we’re in a public place.
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