My Wild Sexy Summer With Country Chicks... -hot Now

She was leaning against a split-rail fence, a straw hat tilted low over her eyes, cut-off denim shorts barely visible beneath the fringe of a worn flannel shirt tied at her waist. Her boots were caked in mud, and she was sipping sweet tea from a mason jar.

She had a smile that was equal parts challenge and invitation. And that’s when I knew—this wasn’t going to be a summer of mending fences. This was going to be a summer of getting unmended . The farm was called “Whispering Pines,” and it was run by Daisy and her two cousins, Savannah and June. Three country chicks who could throw a bale of hay heavier than me, gut a fish without flinching, and still smell like vanilla and wildflowers at sundown. My Wild Sexy Summer With Country Chicks... -HOT

June was nothing like her cousins. Daisy was a wildfire. Savannah was a deep river. June? June was lightning in a jar. She pushed me onto a saddle rack and took control in a way that left me breathless and begging. She was loud, unapologetic, and wild. She bit my shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. She was leaning against a split-rail fence, a

My heart stopped.