BLURB

She needs Prince Farming . . . but she got me instead.

Sure, life’s been easy for me. Growing up in an oceanside house in SoCal, playing top-level college hockey, driving a luxury car with a generous allowance—sounds like the dream, right? Turns out what I didn’t have was freedom. And when I decided to transfer to Moo U for my last year of hockey, my controlling father cut me off. 

No money, no car, no friends. I’m just another student struggling to make ends meet. The only place I can afford to live is the Meyers’ farm, where I’ll work in exchange for room and board. Farm work is so exhausting that I don’t even have time to wallow in the crappy turn my life has taken. Zoe Meyers is a hot blonde Amazon with all the energy of a chipmunk on crack. And her positivity is making me realize how lucky I really am, even though I’m broke. Too bad she’s not impressed by a guy who can’t figure out which end of a goat to milk.

Because suddenly I want to impress her. I want to do a lot more with her too . . . if I can get her out of the barn and into my arms.

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EXCERPT

“I’m the one who gets to take you home.” Helen has reappeared with a full drink. She’s swaying slightly.

“I don’t think you should be driving,” Noah says.

Helen lifts one finger. “Correct. So you’ll have to sleep over instead.”

Noah raises an eyebrow. “Thanks, but that’s not a good idea. Zoe, let me know when you’re leaving.”

I check my watch. “Now. Probably too early for you, right?”

“Nope. I like to get enough sleep during the season.” He looks over at the bleary Helen. “I guess we better take her home first.”

His level of consideration for Helen surprises me. “Okay, I’m still parked at the arena, so we can drop her on the walk there.”

I say goodbye to Rocky, and Noah shuffles Helen over to the front door.

“Zoe,” a voice calls out. It’s Martin. “Are you going already?”

“Yeah. I live out in Shelburne, so it’s a bit of a drive.”

He swallows. “Well, um, maybe you can give me your contact info. I can send you my mom’s pickle recipe.”

Noah snorts, but I ignore him and exchange numbers with Martin.

“I’m sure Martin has a very impressive pickle.” Noah starts in as soon as we’re outside. Helen is on the other side of him. She’s hanging onto his arm like she’s Tarzan and he’s a vine.

“He’s a farmer. Well, his family has a farm. They’re converting from corn to soybeans.” Stop babbling, Zoe. Gah.

“That’s probably safer. Martin looks a lot like a stalk of corn. Wouldn’t want a farm accident.”

I bite my lip to keep from giggling. Martin is thin and pale, and his light blond hair is unfortunately spiked at the top. “You’re so funny. Not. I do want that recipe. Martin and I have a shared interest in canning.” If I practiced for hours, I could not sound lamer.

“Maybe a shared interest in caning would be more fun?” Noah suggests.

I ignore him. People like to make fun of old-fashioned preserving methods but when it’s time to eat they’re happy to enjoy them. And I’m trying hard not to wonder whether Noah has an interest in caning. Yow.

“Do you know how hot you are, Noah?” Helen pipes up.

At least he has the decency to blush. “Uhh, no.”

“It’s true.” Helen blinks at me. “Even Zoe admitted that you’re the hottest guy she’s ever met in real life.”

He grins and winks at me. “Is that a fact?”

“Yeah, and she never finds any guys cute, so…” Helen’s voice trails off before she can embarrass me further.

“I also said you have the biggest ego of anyone I’ve ever met,” I tell him.

“But is it ego if I actually am that wonderful?” Noah asks.

Helen pulls at his jacket. “I have a question. Why do you wear so many clothes? You would look better in less clothes.”

While I agree with Helen in theory, I already know the answer to this one. He’s cold, and it’s only September. By the time it’s January, he’s going to look like the Michelin man.

Noah doesn’t even answer Helen, but she’s undeterred. She yanks on his sleeve until his jacket comes half-off. He swears and tries to get his jacket back, but instead, Helen pulls it off completely and totters away, swinging it over her head.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” mutters Noah. While I should be sympathetic, I’m busy being transfixed by the gap of skin revealed at the unbuttoned bottom of his shirt. Is that a happy trail?

Noah notices where I’m looking and swiftly buttons and tucks in his shirt.

“Show’s over,” he says. We’re now at Helen’s place. Noah manages to retrieve his jacket and get Helen safely in her apartment without being further molested. In no time, we’re back in the car and on the road.

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance for a sleepover,” I say.

“I prefer my partners to be fully conscious.”

I swallow and try to ignore the sudden spark in my lower body. Fully conscious sex with Noah would be both scary and amazing.

  

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