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Series: Cottonwood Falls ~ Book 3

Publisher: Sensual Romance Publishing
December 2014

ISBN #: 9781310351990
Genre: Contemporary/African American
Format: Ebook



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There are times when you just need to return to your roots

On the heels of landing his largest part yet, Brody Paget, has returned from Hollywood to Cottonwood Falls, to share the news with a family he’s not seen in years. Still, sometimes it’s harder to let go of what you’ve run from than expected and he learns that when he is reunited with the one woman he’s ever loved. She just also happens to be the woman he left at the altar.

Hermione Windsor can’t believe it when he walks into the bank. Even ten years wasn’t long enough for her to move on. Now, he was back and wanted to rekindle what they had. She’s changed since he’d bolted and isn’t sure she has what it takes to be part of his fast life. Brody is determined to prove to her he’s still the only man for her.


Content below is not suitable if under 18.


The sun had begun to lower in the sky when she walked out of the bank. Heading to her car, she took a deep breath, ready to get off her feet and relax for a bit. She placed her bag on the passenger seat and started to round to the driver’s side.


The voice wove around her, rooting her to the spot. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and turned to meet the man behind her. Ten years wasn’t nearly long enough for her to forget him, no matter how he’d changed. She would know him anywhere. Regardless of what name he went by.

“Hello.” Yes, that would work. Be calm, unimpressed.

He towered over her. Always had. Brody had never failed to make her feel small, delicate even. And protected. The important thing for me to remember here is the word had in all those thoughts.

“I didn’t recognize you in the bank when I was there at first. You’ve changed.”

She wasn’t sure that was good thing or not. “Most do in ten years,” she said, grateful her tone remained modulated.

He never altered his expression, and she couldn’t see behind his sunglasses.

“Yes,” he commented. “I suppose we all do.”

“Excuse me,” she said. “I have a date.” Where the words originated from, she hadn’t any clue.

“Really?” His dark eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

Her ire went from low simmer to full-fledged with someone using a bellows on the flames. “I’m sorry? Is the prospect of me having a date so foreign to you?”

He took a step back before halting and shaking his head. “No, that…that isn’t it at all.”

She arched one eyebrow and, looking down her nose at him, sniffed. “Good.” Before she totally lost her composure, she spun on her heel and climbed in her car. Her trusty Honda rumbled to life when she turned the key, allowing her to drive away without another word. Even so, as she moved farther away from him, she glanced in the rearview.

Damn him! What had she done to deserve this? Without considering she may be busy with other things, or someone else, Hermione drove over to her friend’s house, Dr. Melinda Glazer.

Parking beside her SUV, Hermione took deep breaths before climbing out on wobbly legs. At the door, she rang the bell. Moments later, Melinda answered.

“Hermione, how… What the fuck happened? Are you okay? Get in here.”

She could feel her walls crumbling around her then Melinda had her arms circling her.

“Christ, honey,” she said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

She had, in a manner of speaking. “He’s back,” she muttered, going along as Mel led her to the couch.

“Go grab something comfortable from my closet, and we’ll talk about it. I’ll fix us something to drink.”

Hermione may have less stature than Melinda, but at least she wouldn’t be in her business suit. In Melinda’s room, she dug for a pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, needing some extra warmth for the moment. Melinda waited with a drink for her, and they sat on the couch.

“Am I interrupting something you had going on tonight?” she asked.

“Not a chance. Besides, you need me, I’m here. What’s going on? Who’s back?”

She sipped the coffee, grateful for the liberal amount of alcohol she tasted in it. Leave it to Melinda to know what she needed. She swallowed, accepted the burn, and looked at her friend.

“Brody Paget.”


Copyright © Aliyah Burke, 2014.

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