Bag om Thirst Trapp Farms
Avery: I'm cursed.
Every time I make a big life change, someone kicks the bucket. My goldfish didn't deserve to go belly up so young.
Ever since the big life-altering, world-shifting, devastating event-that shall not be named-tore my family apart, I've only been half-living. That's why I struggled with the idea of moving from North Dakota to a farm in Big Timber, Montana to help start a spa for visiting guests. I've been a massage therapist for years and love helping other people, but I'm terrified that someone else will drop dead while I reach for my dreams of starting a spa.
If I had known Trapp Farms came complete with its own bearded underwear model, I would have stayed home. Now I'm forced to work for someone who believes shirts are optional. I don't expect to keep my eyeballs to myself, but when his ex-girlfriend shows up, I just might have to.
Wyatt: I should have checked to make sure Avery was an ogre with missing teeth before hiring her. Now my family is going to think I have a mail-order bride living in one of the rental cabins, because she's the opposite of a green swamp creature. She's beautiful. And me? I'm back where I started in the small town I grew up in, living with my Granny after running my start-up into the ground.
Things have been better.
While I'm trying to provide guests a full-frontal farm experience that includes: cow hugging, camping, horseback riding, and farm-to-table dinners-not all at the same time-Avery is here to create a relaxing environment for the guests, nothing more. Try telling that to Granny who's taken it upon herself to make Avery my ninety-day fiancé. But I have bigger issues: new letters from the bank showing up weekly. The pressure to make the farm profitable is on my shoulders, and I've got the summer to do it.
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