Charlotte was an angel of pale blond curls framing a perfectly fair face, but she was no fool when it came to men. She had no delusions of love, true love, soul mates, and especially love at first sight. She laughed as the other debutantes swooning and fawning over the town gentlemen at the ball. There would be no man good enough for Charlotte. That was until Scott Flaherty rode into town after the blood bath at the frontier Fort. Tall, broad shoulder, oozing with enough confidence to ignore all social convention. If ever there was such a thing as love at first sight for Charlotte, this was it. The steely eyed badass even charmed the disillusioned debutante into a rendezvous behind the barn.
Behind the barn, passions erupted as Scott tangled his tongue with Charlotte’s, edging her skirts ever higher with one hand and her neckline ever lower with the other. Charlotte moaned encouraging Scott’s boldness. Just when he had found the treasure he was seeking underneath her mountainous skirts, Charlotte’s father discovered their rendezvous.
“What’s going on here?!”
“Papa, I can explain.”
“Your gentleman can do the talking, by asking me for your hand!”