Lines We Shouldn’t Cross – Book Tour and Giveaway

Ella

This, this… guy! I stalk out of the dining room, fuming.

Of all the people for Pippa to rent the carriage house to, it had to be him. And now he’s living right next door, invading my sanctuary, the space I’ve always considered mine.

Why did he have to ruin my hope of living in the carriage house? There must be plenty of places available for rent in town. I sigh, trying to let my frustration go because bitching and moaning won’t change a thing.

I’d spent countless sleepovers there with my best friend, trading secrets, and dreams. Later, losing myself in romance novels, I’d imagined my own epic love story. Yeah, well, that had been a big naïve fantasy. Most guys turn out to be jerks—like my ex—not some swoon-worthy hero who sets my body ablaze while cherishing my soul. That kind of guy only exists between the pages.

Now, another real-life example of an arrogant jerk stands right there in the dining room, pouring wine as if he owns the place. His broad frame fills the space like a quintessential guy’s guy. His large hands tell a different story. Hands that could build barn walls or something, not pouring wine with unexpected gentleness. Strength and softness, wrapped in those sexy, veiny forearms. If he’d be anyone else, I’d be hopelessly flustered.

Fine, the man’s hot enough to melt steel, but that’s where my appreciation ends. His charm could strip paint of wood, and it’s just about as healthy to be around. He might have fooled Pippa, but not me. And now we’re supposed to work together? Fricking perfect.

In the kitchen, I muster a smile. “Need a hand?” The lasagna’s rich scent fills the room, promising comfort.

Pippa, beaming as though she’s crafted a culinary masterpiece, hands me a tray bearing the night’s first course. In the center, a mason jar filled with her homemade ranch dressing takes the spotlight amid the salad greens and a basket of still-warm bread.

“Could you bring this in?”

Her warm smile tells me she’s missed me and is happy I’m home.

“Of course.” I won’t rain on her parade, so I nod and smile. One quick taste of the creamy dressing first, then the breadbasket joins the greens as I steady myself to face Mr. Arrogance Next Door.

“Thanks, darling.” Pippa smiles. “I’ll be right there.”

Yes, please, I pray silently. I don’t care to be alone for even one minute with that infuriating man. I let out an inaudible sigh, part frustration, part resignation.

“Alright,” I say, forcing a cheery tone. With no excuse to dodge McCocky, I carry the tray out of the kitchen.