It's almost here! Zander Landry's story!

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He knew exactly what to do with a woman who’d been left at the altar.

Take her back inside Ellie’s.

There was plenty of booze just inside. And other women. He could easily pawn her off on any of the girls, who would tell her all about what a dumbass the guy was and how she deserved better and how she’d come to the right place to drown her sorrows.

She’d be shit-faced and laughing in no time. Then he’d take her over to the B & B, have Heather put her to bed and feed her in the morning, and then he’d drive her wherever she wanted to go when she felt better.

Feeling a little more optimistic, he approached her.

He had a lot of women in his life, but they weren’t the cry-over-being-dumped types. They were more the cut-off-his-balls-and-feed-them-to-the-gators types. Now that he was in law enforcement, he couldn’t cover for them like he would have at one point, but they all also knew better than to tell him flat out about anything like that. And he knew what questions to not ask.

“Ma'am?”

Her head came up as he approached, and Zander realized that she hadn't been crying at all. Her head had been down, strands of hair falling over the side of her face because she had been hunched over her phone.

She seemed confused when she looked up at him. “Yes?”

When her eyes met his, Zander had to take a second.

𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.

That was his first thought. Well, after cataloguing that her eyes were a stunning aquamarine blue, her hair was at least three different shades of gold all streaked together in thick waves, and her skin was smooth and creamy.

All of those were descriptors that came straight from the pages of the books he read with his friends in their romance book club. No way would he have noticed all of that before he’d started reading those damned books. 𝘈 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 would have done it.

But she was gorgeous. Not just from across a dim room with a tiara-halo on top of her head, but right up close along a dirt road too.

And that was all the most clichéd shit he’d ever heard.

Thought.

Whatever.

Still, he had to pry his damned tongue from the roof of his mouth.

Because of all the stupid romance novels he read. And movies he watched. And country love songs he listened to.

And because he was a Landry.

He sighed. 𝘔𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 because he was a Landry.

He might not have actually thought the words “aquamarine blue” without the books, but he would have had the wow, she’s something special thought trip through his head because of his DNA.

The Landry family had as much romance in their blood as red blood cells. They were genetically programmed and then nurtured from the crib to believe in love and fate and soulmates and romance.

Some of them just went with it. Some of them fought it.

But none of them were immune.




𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙩, 𝙜𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙥 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩...𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩?



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