Not me specifically, I mean grapes aren't exactly a favorite crop of Wisconsin farmers. So, who would rather be growing grapes then? Beau Reinholt and Sabrina Kerrigan, the Pick Me contestants in Jan Romes new book, I'd Rather be Growing Grapes!
|I'd Rather Be Growing Grapes on Amazon|
Can two wounded people tune out the noise going on around them to listen to their hearts?
Through the windshield their eyes met. Holy mackerel he had great eyes! Even from a distance she could tell they were a vivid blue fringed with ridiculously long lashes. Without moving her lips Sabrina muttered, "Wow!" Too bad this guy wasn't part of the insanity circus. He was hot!
The hunk cocked a sexy eyebrow and his tasty looking lips quirked into a smile. Sabrina's heart thudded against her ribs, but irony hit her smack dab in the face. The one who could possibly set her soul on fire would be parking the car while she was trying to snap up the attention of Beau something or other.
Beau Bridges? Bo Diddley? Yeah, not him either. She remembered another extract from the twenty or so pages of nonsense buried in her suitcase - the description of the bachelor : curly blond hair, green eyes, and unshaven face scruff most women found attractive. Pfft. If he was so great looking why why hadn't they included a picture. That alone was cause for concern. He probably looked like at toad. It was okay to be a toad. She just didn't want to win the heart of a tailless amphibian that had dry, warty skin and could exude poison.
Sabrina giggled from an overload of nerves and the liklihood she was about to meet a desperate toad. Another snippet from the paperwork surfaced, something about the organizers weren't liable should things not work out to the participants' liking. "They covered all the bases."
The stud at the door smiled even bigger. Sabrina looked around to see if he was acknowledging someone else; his wife or a girlfriend, perhaps.When the scan didn't produce anyone but her, a jolt of delight hit each and every one of her nerve endings.
Channeling her inner-goddess Sabrina wet her lips with her tongue and pulled back her shoulders to make her breasts look perky. She opened the car door with the intention of making a provocative departure. Her top half got too far ahead of her bottom half and she fell out of the car. Sweet, Kerrigan. Guys dig klutzy women. Not.
I've waited a long time for a new Jan Romes story, but it was worth it! I'd Rather Be Growing Grapes had me laughing from the first chapter. That's one thing I love about Jan's books, they make you laugh and the feel good meter of her books is always off the charts. While the romance begins to heat up immediately between Beau and Sabrina, they have 20 other women to contend with for their annual Pick Me contest for charity. The women each pay three thousand dollars for a chance to via for the bachelor over a three week period. Each week more contestants are sent home until there are only two left, and thank God for that! Some of these women were real pieces of work! Ms. Romes showed her ability to write likable and very unlikable women on the same page. There were so catty you loved them, but weren't sad to see them disappear from the picture to make room for Beau and Sabrina's blooming romance. The book progresses quickly, I read it in about four hours, but it was a fun, sometimes hateful, always lovingly crafted romance story that left you saying awwwww by the end. I was especially pleased with some of the small lessons imparted by Beau about wine, growing grapes and tasting wine. It was like a mini-insight into a wine tasting without having been to one. If you're looking for a book filled with drama queens where only one will marry the king then you'll love I'd Rather Be Growing Grapes!
Beau and Sabrina get five cups of sweet raspberry infused coffee!
possible, she is also a proud mom, mother-in-law, and grandmother. She likes to read all genres, writes witty contemporary romance and women's fiction, enjoys finding new ways to stay fit and gardens even though she doesn't claim to have a green thumb.
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