HERE TOMORROW 7 PM PST. LYNNETTE AUSTIN AUTHOR OF: MUST LOVE BABIES

HERE TOMORROW
7 PM PST.
LYNNETTE AUSTIN

AUTHOR OF:




This baby's not the only one in need of a cuddle...

Brant Wylder is a bachelor and loving it! He's in Misty Bottoms, Georgia, property-hunting for his vintage car repair shop when he gets the call. His sister's been in an accident, and Brant has to drop everything and take care of his five-month-old nephew. That's the end of the bachelor lifestyle.

Bridal boutique owner Molly Stiles is all business all the time, until she sees that Brant's in trouble. In this Southern town, nobody ever has to go it alone. And besides, how can she resist that beautiful baby in the arms of a beautiful man...?


Molly stood beneath a magnolia tree, her face tipped to catch the moonlight. The breath caught in his throat, and for one fanciful second, Brant imagined a mythical princess or fairy.
He shook his head. The woman was real, and he wanted a dance, wanted to hold her in his arms. A little flirting? Harmless.
Stepping out of the shadows, he made his way to her.
“Beautiful night, huh?”
“Perfect.” Slowly, she turned, a smile on her face.
“How about a dance?”
She hesitated.
“I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment, sugar. Just a single dance under the stars. The night’s made for dancing.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
He caught her hand in his, amazed at its softness against his work-roughened one. “In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not the world’s greatest dancer, but you shouldn’t lose any toes.” He glanced at her sequined stilettos, showcased by her cocktail-length dress. “Don’t know how you even walk in those, let alone put on the miles you do, but I have to say that all mankind is grateful.”
Smiling, Molly peeked at her shoes. “They’re awesome, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “You can dance in them?”
“I could run a marathon in these.”
“Okay, then.” The moon shone through Spanish moss that dripped from the live oaks, forming a lacy pattern on the dewy grass.
Kelly Clarkson’s “A Moment Like This” played over the sound system. Reaching the dance floor, Brant slid an arm around her waist and drew her in, breathed in her scent. He swung her out and brought her back in one smooth motion, felt her quick laugh in the pit of his stomach. The music slowed when the band segued into John Legend’s “All of Me,” and he drew her close.
Molly fit perfectly in his arms. She lived in Georgia and he in Tennessee, and that made her safe. And if the plans he and his brothers were working on panned out? Still, nothing to worry about since she lived in Savannah. When she rested her head against his chest, he wondered if she could hear the rapid thump of his heart. Ms. Molly was hot, hot, hot.
His hand slid a little lower, and without missing a beat, she relocated it to her waist.
Molly smelled of a midnight garden with just a touch of naughty. His body responded, and he willed himself to think about something else. “How’s the city?”
“Savannah?” She shrugged. “I live in Misty Bottoms now. I opened a bridal boutique. Today’s bride was my first.” She grinned, dimples creasing her cheeks.
The dance ended, and he reluctantly released Molly. “I’m driving back to Tennessee tomorrow.”
“Speaking of driving, thanks for taxiing the last of the rehearsal dinner’s partiers home last night. I heard they celebrated pretty hard at Duffy’s.”
“No problem.”
“I need to stop at my car before I go back inside. I left the little silver heart I attach to the bridal gown’s garment bag in my glove box.”
Brant walked beside her in the soft night air, a hand at her elbow, while the band played Blake Shelton’s “God Gave Me You.”
He lowered his head. “Before we call it a night, I’d love to see the rose garden our friend Cole salvaged.”
The scent of roses surrounding them, they strolled through the yard. In the silver light of the moon, the flowers glowed and took on an almost magical, fairy-tale illusion. The house shimmered and welcomed, like the true Southern lady she was. Interlacing his fingers with Molly’s, peace enveloped Brant.
They wandered across the expanse of lawn and through the blooms in comfortable silence.
From the parking area, he heard the sound of engines starting, of tires, crunching on the long drive. “Looks like it’s about time for lights-out. We’d better head back so you can finish up.”
A slight breeze caused Molly to shiver, and happy for the excuse, Brant wrapped an arm around her and pulled her a little closer, surprised when she didn’t pull away.
Reaching her yellow-and-white Mini Countryman, he made to open her door, then changed his mind, leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, one that should have been impersonal. Friendly. Instead, fire shot through him.
He pulled back, unsure whether he should be relieved or horrified that the expression on her face mirrored his own stampeding feelings. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m taking care of a few loose ends in the morning, then heading back to Tennessee. And I already said that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. The kiss was nice, thanks, but you don’t need to worry. I won’t show up naked at your hotel door.”
His breath caught.
She grinned, and he understood she knew exactly the effect she was having on him.
“I—” His phone vibrated. “Whoops. Sorry, but I’d better take this. My brothers probably forgot something. Organization isn’t their strong suit. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure.”
“Hello? Dad?” As he spoke, he made his way to a gnarly old oak. His father’s voice was gruff, almost as if he’d been crying. Panic grabbed Brant by the throat. “What’s wrong?




Jenni Beth Beaumont thought she left her broken heart in Chance, Georgia when she moved away. But when she suddenly inherits her family's beautiful, antebellum home, her dream of turning the residence into a wedding destination calls her back.

Cole Bryson, an architectural salvager, and Jenni Beth's former flame intends to purchase and deconstruct the Beaumont family's down-at-the-heels estate. To his surprise, Jenni Beth is more of a stubborn Southern girl than he thought. Cole will have to use all his sultry, steamy tricks to test more than the resolve of his sexy competition…



“To have and to hold, from this day forward...” Jenni Beth Beaumont whispered the age-old vows.
Tiny white lights transformed Savannah’s Chateau Rouge’s gardens into a magical fairyland. The heavily beaded bridal gown shimmered in their reflected light.
Unfortunately, Jenni Beth was not wearing the gown.
But oh, how she wanted this. Not the wedding itself. No. She wanted to be the driving force behind making a bride’s wedding day the most special of her life. Instead of organizing events here at Chateau Rouge, she wanted her own wedding planner business.
Tonight’s bride fairly radiated. The groom, Jenni Beth’s second cousin, looked so handsome in his dress uniform. He’d just last week come off a tour of duty in the Middle East.
Pain, instant and excruciating, washed over her. Her brother Wes had been even more handsome in his dress uniform the day he’d graduated from Officer’s Candidate School, then again the day he’d deployed in his camos. The day she’d kissed him goodbye. The last time she’d seen him alive. Her throat constricted.
She exhaled, forced herself to shake it off. Not tonight. Tonight was a celebration of love. The beginning of a new family. Of dreams come true.
As the evening wore on, Jenni Beth relaxed.
A familiar voice whispered in her ear. “Dance with me.”
Cole Bryson. She hadn’t seen his name on the guest list.
Shivers raced down her spine, and her heart stuttered. It had been too long, not long enough. “No.”
She wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t meet those mesmerizing eyes.
His hands settled on her bare arms, and she nearly jumped. As the work-roughened hands moved over her skin, her stomach started a little dance of its own.
“I’m working, Cole.”
“Nothin’ needs done right now. Come on, sugar.”
Knowing she shouldn’t, she turned to face him. Mistake. She always had found him irresistible, and that hadn’t changed. He’d perfected that slow Southern drawl, had the sound of a true gentleman. But the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. Revealed the bad boy tucked not far below the surface.
Dressed in a dark suit and tie, the man looked like every woman’s dream. On the surface, smooth and debonair. But beneath lay the wild.  
He took her hand, and, God forgive her, she followed him, weak-kneed onto the portable dance floor, telling herself she didn’t want to, that she only did it to keep peace. Knowing she lied.
A full moon shone overhead and candlelight flickered. When he drew her into his arms and pulled her close, she sighed. One hand held hers, the other settled south of her waist.
“You smell good, Jenni Beth. You always do.”
His voice, low and husky, sent goosebumps racing up and down her arms. Despite herself, she rested her head against his chest, seduced by the strong, steady beat of his heart, the illusion he could make everything and anything all right.









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