Tie Me Down, an all-new swoon-worthy friends to lovers, small town romance from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow, is now live!
Read my 5⭐️ review HERE.
That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been.
Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family’s ranch. Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were seventeen. And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis?
He makes a girl sweat just looking at him . . . and I look. A lot.
But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father. We don’t even live in the same state. I only returned to my hometown of Bellamy Creek to sell my late mother’s house, and he just invited me and my son to stay with him because he’s got a big heart.
That’s not the only big thing he’s got–which I discover the night I finally sneak across the hall to his bedroom and shed my inhibitions right alongside my pajamas. And once we give into each other, we can’t stop.
The hayloft. The bed of his truck. The dock by the pond.
Nothing has ever felt so right, but his past has taught him not to believe in happily ever after, and every perfect night I spend in his arms brings us closer to goodbye.
Like any cowboy, he’s good with a rope and knows exactly how to tie me up.
But what if I want him to tie me down?
When Beckett reached the landing, he headed for his bedroom.
I opened my mouth to say goodnight—I swear I did.
But that’s not what came out.
“I need to tell you something,” I blurted.
He turned and faced me.
“I want to answer your question.” My heart raced, and my fingers locked over my stomach.
“You asked me—last night—why I always chose jerks.”
“You said you didn’t know.”
“I lied. I do know.”
He was silent a moment. “So tell me.”
I took a step toward him. “I chose jerks because they didn’t ask anything of me. They didn’t expect anything of me. They didn’t even want much from me—just skin.”
Beckett took a deep breath, his chest expanding.
“That’s why I couldn’t be with you,” I whispered.
“Because you think I would have expected perfection?”
“Because you would have deserved it.”
He exhaled and shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m sorry. This is stupid.” I squeezed my eyes shut a moment. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this right now. It’s not like I can go back and do things differently. I guess I just wish I would have been brave enough to tell you the truth back then.”
“What’s the truth?”
“That I wish I could have been yours. I know you would have been good to me.”
He said nothing for ten full seconds, during which my heart banged painfully against my ribs and I regretted everything.
“Listen, forget I said anything,” I said quickly. “I don’t know what Blair puts in that apple pie, but—”
“I have something to tell you too.”
I swallowed. “You do?”
“Yeah. Several things, actually.” He moved closer to me, so close I could feel his breath on my lips. “First, I’m glad you finally answered my question. It’s been bothering me for fifteen years. Second, you’re right. I would have been good to you. And third, no—we can’t go back and do things differently. The past is past.”
“Yes. Well, goodnight.” Tears of mortification burning my eyes, I spun away from him, but he grabbed my arm.
“But there’s one more thing.”
“What?” I whispered.
“I sleep with my bedroom door open. But I want you to think hard before you take advantage of that. Because I’m not eighteen anymore, and I’m no longer in the mood to be a gentleman.”
Then he let go of my arm and disappeared across the hall.
With my legs trembling, I slipped into my room, shut the door and leaned back against it, fanning my face.
He’d left it up to me.
But his invitation was clear. I hadn’t imagined it.
And before I thought about it too hard and blew my chance to be with him, I raced into the bathroom, pulled my braids out, and brushed my teeth. Back in my bedroom, I whipped off my clothes and pulled on the pineapple-print tank and matching shorts I’d brought to sleep in. Not exactly my sexiest lingerie, but in my defense, seduction hadn’t been on my to-do list when I’d packed my bags.
Then I took a deep breath, opened my door, and snuck across the hall.
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About Melanie Harlow
USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like Schitt’s Creek, Homeland, and Fleabag. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.
Melanie is the author of the CLOVERLEIGH FARMS series, the ONE & ONLY series, AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.
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