HE'S SURE GOT A WAY WITH WORDS…
The last person True Maybank expected to run into while picking up her wedding gown was country music superstar Harrison Gamble. Years ago, when they were small-town teens in Biscuit Creek, South Carolina, they shared a forbidden night of passion. Now that she's about to settle down, True's love affair with the handsome crooner is a thing of the past. Or is it? From the moment he says hello, she has to fight swooning like an adoring fan.
CAN SHE RESIST HIS CHARMS?
Today he's rich, famous, and on every woman's hot list. But back in the day, Harrison wasn't good enough for debutante True. Since then she's had her fair share of marital prospects, including the perfect Southern gentleman she's about to settle down with. Is Harrison the only one to realize the mistake True's about to make? Can the society girl and the sexy singer make music togetherthis time around?
"Kieran Kramer's smart, sassy storytelling charms readers because there is always poignancy mixed with passion, tenderness, and humor." RT Book Reviews
|Publisher:||St. Martin's Press|
|Product dimensions:||4.10(w) x 6.70(h) x 0.80(d)|
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Kieran Kramer is a former CIA employee, journalist, and English teacher who lives in the Lowcountry of South Carolina with her family. Game show veteran, karaoke enthusiast, and general adventurer, her motto is, "Life rewards action." Her books include The Earl Is Mine and If You Give a Girl a Viscount. Find her on Facebook, Twitter, and at her website.
Read an Excerpt
When country music superstar Harrison Gamble appeared on the sun-dappled sidewalk outside the hotel on Peachtree Street in Atlanta, the crowd roared its approval—everyone, that is, except True Maybank. She’d as soon scream as chase a pig around a mud pen. Maybanks didn’t holler. They believed in decorum. Tradition. Using something until it wore out. Keeping up appearances even when the world had gone to hell in a handbasket.
“Well, I swanny,” she murmured, her entire body filling with a prickly sensation. She’d never thought she’d see him again.
Behind her late great-aunt Honey’s oversized Nina Ricci sunglasses, she watched Harrison take his fans’ hysteria in stride, as if it had nothing to do with him, his smokin’-hot body, that sparkling white smile, the bronzed skin, sexy stubble, and those sideburns, which were longer than they used to be—just long enough to qualify for serious bad-boy status.
Move on, girl! You got a wedding dress to get home!
She circled the heavily policed chaos, risking her life in the street for a few seconds, and quickly began walking again, uphill. With her mother’s newly repaired vintage gown in her arms, it was as if Mama were walking with her, Mama with all her high expectations and impeccable standards. And here True merely hoped that the double-whammy dreamboat behind her—the first guy she’d slept with and her only one-night stand—wouldn’t somehow recognize her.
At the corner, she couldn’t resist a glance over her shoulder back down at the scene at the hotel. What a collage that would make. The thought crept up, wily and insistent, and she fought to dismiss it. But it was too wild, too alive …
It kept coming, the image, blossoming in her mind and taking over her body, making her fingertips buzz with the need to arrange. She would collage this memory. She would. It would be her best work yet.
And no one would ever see it.
Harrison signed an autograph and with a quick kiss to the crowd got into the back of a black Humvee. Two Taylor Swift look-alikes scooted inside as well. The car’s dark-tinted windows slid up, its front tires angled toward the street, and True’s arm began to sweat under the plastic bag.
Change, light, change!
Seconds later the Humvee whooshed past her. Two more scary-looking black SUVs followed behind.
She took a deep breath. There. It was over. Harrison was the Big Bad Wolf to millions of captivated Red Riding Hoods, and once upon a time True had been one of them.
Admit it. You nearly got sucked in again today.
No. She wouldn’t think of him anymore. It had been a crazy minute in an otherwise fairly sane week. All she had to do now was get to the parking garage, find her car, and drive the four hours back to Biscuit Creek. Back to Weezie, her sister. To Carmela, her best friend. And to Dubose, the man she was to marry.
Back to the life that was finally falling into place.
A block later, a sporty aqua-blue coupe with darkened windows slowed to a crawl next to her, and the passenger-side window lowered a crack. “Get in, Miss Junior League,” Harrison said, his voice ringing out loud and clear.
True’s heart clanged like a fire station alarm bell, and she stopped walking.
She was seriously nonplussed. In Biscuit Creek, they’d say she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But True favored words like nonplussed, probably because she was a big reader. She had a book stuffed up the right leg of her Spanx right now, a dog-eared Agatha Christie paperback that didn’t fit into her pocketbook. That minimalist creation—a Target find, a faux yellow leather tote—was actually overflowing with three lipsticks of varying coral shades, a two-inch Velcro hair roller, travel hair spray, a pack of Kleenex, Juicy Fruit gum, her cell phone, a round hairbrush, a black Sharpie, her keys (which weighed a ton), a banana, a tube of Advil, a spare pair of sunglasses, and her ancient Cinderella wallet from Disney World, which had a rubber band around it to keep the cards and money from falling out.
“Well?” Harrison revved the engine. “You gonna get in here and tell me what you been up to all these years or stand there stiff as a poker and pretend you can’t see me?”
True pivoted on a heel to face the car. “I see you, all right.”
Daddy always said if you couldn’t run with the big dogs, stay under the porch. True wasn’t an under-the-porch sort of gal.
* * *
Harrison hid his amusement behind a cool stare, the one he dragged out when the higher-ups interfered too much with his creative vision or a fan overstepped her bounds, which was basically getting naked without asking him first.
That wasn’t going to happen with True. She was a lady—at least on the surface. But those snapping blue eyes gave her away. Beneath that prissy exterior, a sexy damned hellion wanted out. He’d seen her. He wished he could forget her—he’d written songs trying to exorcise her from his brain—but sometimes he still dreamed her arms were wrapped around his neck and her sweet body was beneath his.
Now she leaned down to peer inside his passenger window, a bulky garment bag slung over her arm. She smelled good, like some kind of magical spring flower in a secret bower filled with singing chipmunks and tweety little bluebirds. “I can’t ride home with you, even if I wanted to.”
Implying that she didn’t. Typical of her. She’d always been too proud for her own good.
“But we can talk,” she added. “Lemme buy you a Coke.”
Which meant any drink. Everything was a Coke in the South, especially in Atlanta.
“Not thirsty,” Harrison said back. “Gimme your keys. I’ll get my manager to drive your car all the way home.” Harrison had always wanted to show Dan around his old stomping grounds anyway.
True shook her head. “The last thing I expect you to do is come back to Biscuit Creek.”
No one expected him back. Ever. Which had always been fine with him. He went to LA. Aspen. Tropical islands.
“I don’t have all day to argue,” he said. “The paparazzi are hot on my trail. I gotta keep moving. So let’s drop the polite chitchat and get down to business. Knowing you, you can’t dillydally, either.”
True never sat still.
“I might as well stop by and say hello to Gage,” he added. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.” But he’d make the visit to his brother short. Harrison was due in the Hamptons at the beachfront home of an equally famous singer, a sexy, single woman who wasn’t looking for a serious relationship but wouldn’t mind the occasional fling and the publicity that went with it.
True hesitated. “There’s a lady about to cross the street, and she has a tattoo of you with a guitar in your hand walking down her belly into her pants.”
“My first album cover. People do all kinds of things with it.”
True carefully laid her garment bag on his car roof, then dug through an enormous purse and managed to pull out a huge set of keys tethered to a pink rubber ball with pink rubber spikes all over it. “All right,” she said. “I’ll ride with you.”
“That’s the ugliest key chain I’ve ever seen,” Harrison said to cover up how awesome he felt about her actually getting in his car.
“But I can see it, and feel it. It’s gushy.”
“Gushy?” Such a True word. He lowered the window farther.
She dropped the keys in his palm, but even so the tips of her fingers brushed his, and he had an instant memory of those fingers trailing over his naked back, curling into his hair. “Only you would want a gushy key chain.”
She arched one eyebrow. “Lots of people like them.”
“Is that so? How would you know?” Teasing her had always been his go-to diversion when wild sex fantasies intruded. Of course, now she had a big rock on her finger. A really big one.
“They have a huge barrel of them at Walmart.”
Always the authority on things. She hadn’t changed one bit. But when had she started shopping at Walmart? And who’d given her that ring?
“Was the barrel empty or full?” he asked her.
“Full. There were hundreds. Different colors, too.”
“It would have been nearly empty if everyone liked ’em, though, right?”
“Maybe they just restocked.” She sighed. “Look, Harrison, could you let me in? Preferably before the rest of the world figures out you’ve escaped your guards.”
He unlocked the car door. “Like King Kong?”
“Something like that.” She yanked the door open, grabbed her garment bag, and slid inside.
“Let me.” He took the bag off her lap and laid it behind them. It was heavy and said CARR’S BRIDAL across the front.
Damn. She was getting married soon, from all appearances. Not that he’d ask.
“Thanks.” She had two little spots of pink on her cheeks when she pulled her door shut.
The window on her side hummed upward and shut—his doing. “I’ll drop the keys off with my team, and you and I will be on our way.” He caught a glimpse of her tanned calves and tapered ankles. Bad idea. Heat flooded his belly. “What’re you driving these days?”
“Really? You’re a loyal customer. Did you get a convertible this time?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “It’s the same car I drove in high school.”
Whoa. That surprised him. “Good for you, keeping it up so long. How many miles you got on it?”
She shrugged. “A hundred eighty thousand.”
“Still got some juice, then.” When his truck finally bit the dust, it had 245,000. “Nothing better than a reliable car.”
“Honey taught me how to look after things.”
He noticed that her hair was flipped out on the ends, the same way it used to be. “She still alive?”
True shook her head. “She passed on six years ago. Mama thought she was a liability, but that woman had game.” She sang the song “Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue” quietly in a husky-sweet voice:
Harrison could listen all day long.
“It was her favorite,” True said. “That and ‘S Wonderful.’”
“I’m really sorry.” He was tempted to put a hand on hers, but he didn’t, just in case she got all jumpy about it. “She was the coolest person in Biscuit Creek. She could work out a ukulele something fierce.”
True chuckled. “Yes, she could.” She looked down at her lap a moment, then back up. “You know how to get to I-40 from here?”
“I think I know my way around this part of the world.” He grinned at her, and for a minute he was eighteen again. “Damn, True.” He soaked her up, all that creamy skin, platinum-blond hair, wide blue eyes, and that pale mole near her mouth. “You’re still gorgeous.”
She fiddled with her sun visor. “You’re not so bad yourself, as you well know. Although I’m not crazy about the hair gel.”
He laughed and pulled out onto the street. “Me, either.” He made a right turn and waited for the bodyguard to catch up with him so he could hand him True’s keys. A few instructions later, and they were on their way. “My makeup girl insists on the gel. She was one of the women who got in the car with me today.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” True squirmed in her seat.
Damn, she was nervous.
“I know I don’t,” he said, and put on his blinker. It felt good to drive. “I’m just talking. Gotta break the ice somehow.”
“Not really. We have no business talking to each other.” Her voice was soft. Almost sad.
It was his turn to shrug. “How’s everyone doing at Maybank Hall?”
“Ten years have gone by. Hasn’t Gage kept you informed?”
“Of course not. He’s too busy making crossword clues.”
“That’s a lot of catching up, don’t you think?”
“Well, why not? We’ll do it on the plane. Do you mind getting home a lot faster than you anticipated?”
Her eyes flew wide. “Please don’t rent a jet for me.”
“Rent-a-Jet. I like the sound of that.” He grinned. “It’s for me, not you, if that makes you feel any better. I gotta be in front of a TV before the Spurs game.”
“So you can do that? Just get someone to fly you wherever you want to go for whatever reason?”
“It comes with the territory. Country music’s been good to me.”
She stared at him long and hard. “I’m glad for you, Harrison,” she said quietly. “Mighty glad.”
He snuck another peek at her. “Are you?”
She nodded. “Of course. Think how proud you’ve made Biscuit Creek. Why, you’ve put us on the map.”
“Most certainly. The water tower has your name on it.”
“Did you see to that?”
She blushed again. “Of course not. It was the mayor.”
“But you always were the civic-minded citizen,” he reminded her.
“Oh, I still am.” She looked straight ahead. Her earlobes had tiny pearl studs in them.
Harrison held back another grin. There was always something about True that put him in a good mood. Maybe it was how transparent she was. That was it. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and wary and practical as that heart was, it was a good one.
“Hey.” He leaned over to her. “Do me a favor. At the airport, put on a hat.” He pointed to the glove compartment.
She opened it, revealing a stack of sunglasses and two nylon baseball caps. “What?” A wrinkle formed on her brow. “Why?”
“A disguise, of course. Look out back. Someone’s on to us. Probably the National Enquirer.”
She twisted her neck to look, and hell if he didn’t enjoy seeing the swell of her breasts in that fuddy-duddy dress against the cream leather seat.
“How can you tell?” Her voice was a little breathy, and he felt a response in his jeans, which was wrong, considering who she was, but entirely understandable from a biological standpoint. So he wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.
“Easy.” He sped up and switched lanes. “Watch what happens.”
She kept her gaze behind them.
“Did a black Volvo follow us?” he asked.
“Well, I’ll be,” True murmured. “It most certainly did.”
He switched lanes again, taking an odd satisfaction at hearing the wonder in her voice when she exclaimed that once again, the Volvo was keeping track of them, right on their bumper as a matter of fact.
Yep. Harrison really was famous. Although why he felt the need to make sure she knew, he had no idea.
“He should be ticketed!” she exclaimed. “Where are the police when you need them?”
“I don’t know.” It was fun playing a martyr, especially in a $160,000 sports car.
“It must be hell to be you,” True said.
“I suppose it is.” Harrison enjoyed her pity. “So you listen to my advice and wear that disguise, all right? Otherwise, my wife will be pissed when she sees a picture of us together.”
True whipped around to face him. “Your wife?”
He laughed out loud at the drama he’d stirred up, then suddenly felt sheepish. “I was just kidding. There’s no little missus. You ought to know better than to think there would be.”
“Of course I knew better.” True frowned at him. “Still, that wasn’t very nice.”
“Why?” He swung the car over to the airport exit. The black Volvo stayed with them. “What difference would it have made if I was married?”
There was a second of taut silence.
“It wouldn’t have made any,” True said. “It’s just that friends don’t tease friends.”
“They don’t? Who made that rule?” He followed a service road around to the back of a yellow Butler building, a hangar for a couple of Learjets. “You got a lot of rules, True. And the truth is, I don’t recall us particularly being friends anymore.”
What the hell. Let her feel a little embarrassed at dumping him. This was an opportunity he’d no idea he’d been seeking, but now that it was here, it felt good to get some things off his chest.
She pursed her lips. “I thought that by now—”
“I am over it,” he said, and pulled the car into a parking space. “Which is why we can talk about it. You’re never gonna leave Biscuit Creek, and I’m never going to tie myself down.” He shut the engine off. “Got it.”
He ignored her and opened his door. The photographer had already exited the Volvo, camera ready, the bag still on his shoulder. “Take a picture of me and my old friend together, Charlie, and I’m going to make sure my team puts you in the back row of every single press conference I give from here on out. And about the rock on her finger, it’s not from me. I’m trying to get her home to her beloved, whoever the poor sap may be. Is that clear?”
“Got it, Mr. Gamble.” Charlie didn’t look the least bit fazed. He was a real pro.
“Dubose is not a poor sap!” True said from behind Harrison at the same time, right on cue. “And I resent you for saying so.”
“You resent me? So what’s new?” Harrison kept his eyes on Charlie and winked. “And you’re kidding me about Dubose Waring, aren’t you? He’s a putz.”
“No, he is not,” she slammed.
He looked back at her in all her quivering, self-righteous glory. God, it turned him on. “When are y’all getting married?”
“None of your business!”
He pretended to be properly chastened, but from the withering look she sent him, she knew damned well he wasn’t.
“How about a couple snaps of you alone, Mr. Gamble,” Charlie interjected with a grin, “looking travel-weary. Is there a guitar in the backseat?”
“No.” Harrison sighed. “But since you came all this way, you can grab a few shots when I get out—and then you leave.” He glanced at True. She was clawing at her dress a little, wiping her palms on it.
It was odd, to say the least.
“Do you—do you have a paper bag?” she asked him in a squeaky voice.
“No,” he said, wondering what was going on.
“Nothing?” Her pupils were dilated.
Uh-oh. Not a good sign. Was she taking drugs, his True?
“True, baby, what’s wrong?” he asked her, his pulse speeding up.
She wasn’t his baby and never had been. But for one night he’d pretended she was.
True shook her head and fumbled for the door handle, her hands shaking. “N-nothing.” She got it open, stepped right on her giant purse, and jumped out, leaving the door wide open.
Harrison was already around the front of the car. “What is it?” When he caught up with her, she was shaking like a leaf, walking around in circles. And then a damned book fell out of her dress, a strange event he’d choose to ignore. He knew she liked to read, but this took the cake. “Are you diabetic?”
He held a finger up at Charlie. It meant, Stand by. Just in case this is a real-ass emergency.
Charlie didn’t move. His camera dangled from his hand.
True swallowed, crouched on her haunches, and cupped her hands around her mouth. She breathed in, then out. In. Held it. Then out.
Harrison put an arm on her back. “I’m with you.”
Her forehead was sweaty. Her spine curled, the muscles in her back trembling.
He pulled out his cell phone.
“No!” she cried.
“Yes.” His tone was ugly. He’d never been able to remain cool in a crisis. “We can’t mess around. You’re pale. Shaking. Something’s seriously wrong.”
She shook her head. “Let me breathe into my hands,” she said into her hands. Loud. So he could hear. Which was awfully considerate of her since he was now out of his mind with worry.
“Give me your camera bag,” he yelled to Charlie.
Charlie came running with it and handed it directly to True.
She grabbed it and put her whole face inside.
“What the hell is happening, True?” Harrison’s heart slammed against his chest.
“It’s just a panic attack.” Her face still in the bag, she fell back on her bottom. But it was a controlled fall, as if she was getting herself together again.
Harrison felt a slight—very slight—lessening of worry.
She lowered the bag. “I’m afraid of flying,” she whispered and flinched once. Twice. Like a bird that had hit a glass window.
And then she burst into tears.
“Shit,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He sat next to her and pulled her close.
She put the bag back to her face. “I thought I could handle it.”
Even muffled, her voice did something to him, especially those little hiccups. “You always think you can handle it.”
She didn’t say anything to that. Her arms looked so skinny, and her neck was just a twig, dammit.
“That’s right,” he said roughly. “It’s about time you just shut up and breathed, Maybank. Let the world run without you for a few minutes.”
Charlie backed away, his shoes making gritty sounds on the rocky asphalt.
Harrison rubbed his hand up and down True’s arm, which was warming up a little, and waited. Waited for her to perk up. Waited to feel remorse that he’d reconnected with her.
But it didn’t come.
Here he was comforting a woman who didn’t think he was all that special. In fact, she was sure he was the opposite. She believed he—Harrison Gamble, number one right now on the iTunes country chart—had major flaws.
Who’da thunk it?
“Don’t let my book get away,” she ordered him from inside her camera bag house, then added, “Please.”
But it was a feeble please. She was getting back to her old bossy self.
A jumbo jet coasted in for a landing above their heads, its wheels locked into the down position. Welcome back to real, Harrison thought, the smell of diesel in his nostrils. He might write and sing about the ordinary, the substantial—the stuff of life—but he’d been running from all that reality crap for a long time.
Funny how it managed to find him anyway here on a hot gravel parking lot with a mixed-up bookworm named True. He was sure after their effed-up good-bye ten years before that he’d be glad never to see her again. But he didn’t want to leave her this time, either.
Damn, that surprised him.
He cast a sideways glance at Miss Priss with her knees hitched up, ankles touching, and eyelids closed. Her arm was tanned, her knuckles white as she gripped the camera bag. But her lashes lay thick on her cheek, like the old days, the really, really old days, when she’d join him on the trailer park dock and tilt her face up to the sun to bask in its warmth.
He remembered the first day she ever caught a crab on that dock. She got so rattled, she tilted the net and the crab dropped out. It ran sideways, a little tap dancer, straight over her feet. “Ooohhhaaghh!” she’d shrieked, and fallen backward into the water.
In the Atlanta sunshine, he chuckled at the memory, threw a pebble, and watched it bounce. Nah. It didn’t surprise him at all that he wanted to stay.
Copyright © 2014 by Kieran Kramer
Excerpt from He’s So Fine copyright © 201 by Kieran Kramer
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
A wonderfully romantic, sexy and satisfying love story. The hero, Harrison, is somehow both bad-boy sexy and a genuine gentleman—believably. I couldn’t wait to see what he would say (or do) next to the heroine, True. I adored True. At the outset she’s appealingly vulnerable and just a little bit of an adorable mess, but she’s swiftly revealed to be a strong woman fighting for her family and her home. I love this sort of heroine—utterly feminine while kick-ass in her own way and determined. The romance brought me to tears of happiness all the way through, including the absolutely perfect brief flashbacks to Harrison and True’s childhood and teen years. I adored their relationship, a bond of friendship and trust and adventure formed early in their lives that—despite all that drives them apart—never fades and never dies. It’s both deeply moving and incredibly hot. Their chemistry sizzles. The minor characters are real, imperfect, and so loveable. There’s a lot of love in this book, in fact, between all the characters, and all types of love, and it makes the entire story glow. The setting creates the glow too. Though this book is a small-town romance, it feels big, rich, colorful, textured, and infinitely charming in a real, honestly lived way. I actually wanted to be living there in that small southern coastal town, diving off the dock or picking strawberries or eating pancakes at the kitchen table in Maybank Hall. It’s a warm, welcoming, delicious world, and I hope Kramer has more books planned for it. Finally, there are so many one-liner jewels that I gasped, smiled and laughed throughout. I recommend this book for readers looking for a wonderfully sexy, warm, romantic and satisfying read. Please note: I review very few books, and only those that I stay up all night to finish. I love smart, determined heroines with secretly soft hearts; alpha heroes with brains and compassion; a colorful cast of minor characters; hot sex scenes that are really true love scenes; and great writing.
This auther really knows and understands the South and all the nuances of southern society. Once again, great characters completed by a really good story. Just read this author for the first time 4 days ago. After reading one book I immediately bought the other two contemporary novels. Just finished the third and last one. Cannot wait for her next book. Also loved that each book is unrelated to the next do you don't have to worry about reading them in a certsin order and trying to remember things from previous books. You can just sit back and enjoy s really great trip to the South. Note. Love scenes are tastefully done and add to the story. I get so tired of having every detail of sex described as crudely as possible. Especially when a book is loaded down with sex scenes so that there is little room for an actual plot. Unfortunately it seems most new romance authors are headed that way. Really it takes so little talent to write those books and they really should be labeled porn. Luckily I found this author. She really can write and tell a great story!
Kieran Kramer is a new to me author and I have to say that I plan on reading more of her work. I won this book from another author and I am so glad I did. Kieran has written a sweet, sexy, funny story. This is the story of True Maybank and Harrison Gamble. As kids, True came from a wealthy family and Harrison grew up in a trailer park but they were best friends. They had a one night stand on prom night but then True rejected Harrison's proposal. 10 years later, Harrison is a famous country music star and rich but True is now struggling to maintain her family heritage. True is engaged to another man and Harrison returns to town. Prior to the wedding, True and Harrison reconnect and their youthful love reignites and blossoms.
I really did love this book. I enjoyed reading about the unique South Carolina Lowcountry area. I loved the dialogue. I really appreciated the inclusion of real, solid, productive characters who fit on the Autism spectrum. I would have given it 5 stars, but inclusion of the 9-11 story line at the end didn't seem to fit seamlessly.I definitely recommend this book and will be looking forward to Ms. Kramer's next one!
Life hadn't been easy for True Maybank, but at this point she was hoping that things were looking up. She was going to finally marry the boy her family always thought she should since high school, after all these years, too bad none of them were going to be around to see it. She had managed to hold her family home together and get her younger sister through high school and Weezie would be off to college this fall. She was feeling pretty good. Then she had to see HIM when she went to pick up her wedding dress. Harrison Gamble might be a famous country singer today, and everyone might fawn all over him, but there was a time when not everyone in Biscuit Creek was pleased to see him. He and True had been friends, then there had been that thing between them at prom, but she had set him straight, he wasn't good enough for her. Why then did the sight of her all these years later make him crazy? He wasn't sure but all he knew was that he had to find out what she was up to, no matter what his people were wanting. As Harrison and True spend some time together, old feelings are rekindled. Not only that, but True learns more about herself and her fears, and why she has always been afraid to follow after what she wanted. It is a story of love and romance, of shallow southern boys, and good old southern boys. There is self discovery and reflection and peace of mind. This is a wonderful little novel that is enjoyable to read. It is well written and you feel part of the family.
This is the first book that I have ready by Kieran Kramer and she didn't disappoint me. This was such a sweet small-town contemporary romance. True and Harrison may have been friends growing up, but things have really changed since Harrison left Biscuit Creek 10 years ago. True has grown a lot as a woman because of all the things that she has endured in her life. Harrison grew up in a trailer park and was looked down on by some of the people in Biscuit Creek because of that, but he has gone on to become country music celebrity. This book shows the importance of family, returning home, and being true to ones self and those are points that was carried on throughout the entire book. This book didn't have a lot of steam, but you won't be disappointed in True and Harrison's story. Copy provided by Netgalley for an honest review.
This is a sweet second chance romance. Southern Deb in love with the boy from the wrong side of the tracks who has grown up and made good. Living in the south I’ve met women like True and could really relate to her. I loved the secondary characters almost as much. This is an escape as sweet as southern tea. Complimentary copy provided by author/publisher for an honest review.
Kieran Kramer is no newbie to writing great love stories. In Sweet Talk Me, she's moved from a historical European setting to a contemporary American one. Her knack for writing strong characters hasn't changed and even those who are strict historical romance readers will enjoy this book. In fact, I can easily say this is my favorite book of hers by far. True Maybank and Harrison Gamble may have been star-crossed friends growing up, but things have really changed in the ten years since Harrison left Biscuit Creek. True is still a Southern Belle but Harrison has gone from looked-down-upon by everyone to a bonafide celebrity. His coming home is unplanned but once his serendipitous True and brings her home, leaving suddenly doesn't seem so important. To be honest with you, this book really gave me the feels, both happy and sad. However, it's the scenes that brought tears to my eyes, that are making me tear up as I think of them. I will proudly admit to crying as I read this book. Besides all the emotions this book evoked, it's the characters that make this book. True and Harrison have great chemistry and are great, however I believe Weezie and Gage, their siblings steal part of their spotlight. I love how Kieran made them such integral parts of not only True and Harrison's story, but also their individual ones. This book feels not like one single story, but four or five. Each is separate yet part of a whole and it's flawless. I hope Kieran will keep writing more books set in Biscuit Creek just so I can keep reading about True, Harrison, Weezie, Gage, and Carmela. The strongest themes in this book are regarding the importance of family, coming home, and being true to ones self and they carry out through every aspect of the book. This book captivated me from the first page until I put it down. You will smile, laugh, cry, and fan yourself as True and Harrison figure things out. This charming book is certain to leave a lasting impression on you as it did me. I'd like to thank Kieran for sending me a copy to review. Her doing so has no bearing on this review. If you don't believe me, all you have to do is pick up the book and you can see for yourself. This book is pure magic.
"And then it happened. Harrison leaned forward and kissed her, his mouth wet, salty and warm. She kissed him back, and it was as natural as breathing." Great book! Heartfelt, warm and sexy, all rolled into one!!