Welcome to Burton, Georgia, a small town just west of Savannah. In this farm community, the women are sassy, the men are sexy and happily-ever-afters are a specialty of the house.

I love Burton. It’s one of my favorite places to write about, because I know it so well. I could visit and walk the streets of this fictional town, waving as I pass Cory Evans on her way to the library, stopping by Kiki’s bakery for just the right treat, lingering in the town green to catch up on the gossip . . .

And of course, I’d have to drive out to pick up the best fresh produce at the Colonel’s Last Stand, the farm stand that belongs to the Reynolds’ family, before I swing over to the Road Block to have a beer and shoot the breeze with Mason.

If you love this small town, too, I have some great news! This year, I’ll be releasing a new Love in a Small Town romance. It’s called The Love Song Girl, and it kicks off the next trilogy of books in this series.

And to celebrate this event, Always For You, book 5, is on sale right now for a very limited time–free!

This story is one of my favorites. Maureen has been in love with Smith Harrington since they met at college. She never acted on her feelings, but over the years, they’ve kept in touch . . . and when she needs a partner at the veterinary clinic she just took over, Smith is the first person she calls.

But can she keep their friendship uncomplicated and easy?

The following excerpt is one that might leave you a little breathless . . . so you should probably go download Always For You now!

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“Did the famous Tim kiss you good night?”
I dropped my eyes to the table. “Do you think that’s any of your business, Smith?”
“Probably not, but I’m asking anyway. Call it my right as your cookie supplier.”
I huffed out a short laugh, but Smith didn’t even smile. His eyes were fastened on my face, as though my answer really mattered to him.
“He did. Sort of. I mean, just a light . . . kiss. Not even. He barely touched me.”
“Ah.” Smith nodded. “I guess that was one way to go. A man kisses a woman like that, it means one of two things. Either he isn’t really into her and just wants to be kind to end the evening, or he does want her, but he’s taking it slow. Building up. Setting the stage for when he gets serious.”
“Really.” I meant for my voice to sound amused, but it came out as almost a whisper. “And suddenly you’re the expert in how and why people kiss?”
“Oh, I’ve definitely got some expertise there. And in this case, judging by how he looked at you when he was here, I’d say it’s more likely the second. He thinks he’s got time to pull you in. Next time, next date, he’ll step it up. A little more of a kiss. Maybe a little tongue. Maybe not.”
I pressed my lips together, as though I were denying Tim access. “You said it was one way to go. You would’ve gone another?”
“Oh, yeah. I get patience. I understand a man who can practice it. But that wouldn’t be me. I figure, if I can hold off on kissing a woman and it doesn’t matter to me that much, or if I can handle just giving her a bland, meaningless kiss, she must not matter than much to me. There’s no spark.”
My eyes widened. “Spark?”
A smile spread slowly over Smith’s face. “You know. The spark. The thing that makes your heart beat a little faster when you see the other person. Makes it hard to breathe for a few minutes when she smiles. And when you make her laugh, you feel like you’d give anything in the world to do it again.” He lifted his hands. “You literally itch to touch her. You look at her skin, her hair, her body, and you think, if I have to go another moment without putting my hands on her, I might die. And when you do finally kiss her, it feels like you never want to stop.”
I was mesmerized, a hot mess of electrified nerve endings and yearning pulse points. If Smith so much as moved toward me, I was certain I’d jump him. Knock him onto the kitchen floor and . . . well, I was pretty sure what would come next would be strictly NC-17.
“If it had been me in that car with you, I’d have started out slow, probably. I’d have taken that route. But I wouldn’t have stopped there. After I’d brushed a kiss on your lips, I would have pulled back, stared into your eyes for the space of a few heartbeats, and then I would have leaned forward and taken your mouth again. But this time, there would be nothing gentle about it. I’d have opened your mouth, used my tongue to stroke the inside of your lips, all the time holding your face in my hands. Your tongue would begin to tangle with mine, both teasing and thrusting, and I’d lower one hand to press against your back, so that your . . . chest was plastered into my body. I’d spend an endless amount of time learning every part of your mouth, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. When we finally broke apart, because we had to breathe or die, it would be like we’d never touched before and we’d be on fire for the next kiss, just by looking at each other.”