But there he is. Six-and-a-half feet of tusked, broody orc muscle, standing in my family’s orchard like he’s the last pumpkin on the vine—and somehow, mine to pick.
He says stay away. I show up with cider and attitude.
Now the whole town thinks I’ve lost my mind.
They’re right. Because I’m about to let the spooky orc next door ruin me against a barrel of apples …
And I can’t wait.
Read on for tusked obsession, spooky-season heat,...
I came home for the funeral.
Not for him.
But there he is. Six-and-a-half feet of tusked, broody orc muscle, standing in my family’s orchard like he’s the last pumpkin on the vine—and somehow, mine to pick.
He says stay away. I show up with cider and attitude.
Now the whole town thinks I’ve lost my mind.
They’re right. Because I’m about to let the spooky orc next door ruin me against a barrel of apples …
And I can’t wait.
Read on for tusked obsession, spooky-season heat, forbidden orchard kisses, and a heroine who refuses to play nice when the orc looks that good in flannel. HEA Guaranteed!
