Take those reins, dig your spurs in, and ride him until you can’t walk the next day. He’d been wearing his Grateful Dead T-shirt and skinny jeans, bouncing up and down in the romance section as he mimicked riding a horse. For one, I promised my roommate, Topher, I’d follow through two, I have nothing better to do and three, I’m starving.Īnd this is just a quick dinner, no matter what Topher says. Right?įor a brief moment I contemplate a pretend headache. Supposedly he’s tall, dark, handsome, a little nerdy, and fresh from a breakup. Tonight, I’m meeting Greg Zimmerman, the local weatherman for the NBC affiliate here in the Music City.

“I’m breaking the seal!” I announce to no one.

Who, tell me who, agrees to a blind date on Valentine’s Day? It’s a five-star restaurant, one of the best in Nashville, with a monthlong reservation wait, yet my date managed to get us one on short notice. Glancing around, I take in the stone-and-cedar exterior, the flickering gaslights by the door. Maybe two.īut I don’t, so I settle for chewing on my thumbnail as I whip my little Ford Escape into Milano’s jam-packed parking lot. If I smoked, I’d have one in my mouth right now. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Īmazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of, Inc., or its affiliates. Text copyright © 2020 by Ilsa Madden-Mills Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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