Wren
I only need to follow a few simple rules until Trey, America’s sweetheart who wasn’t so sweet after all, forgets I exist:
Keep to myself—easy enough since I’m in a cabin tucked in a forest and my main form of transportation into Paradise Springs is a bike.
Keep my mouth shut—not so easy because I do like to talk.
Keep my bruises concealed—the ones on my face and in my heart.
Don’t fall for the handsome and annoyingly persistent rancher, no matter how good he looks in a tight T-shirt, no matter how scrumptious the pizza he brings me smells, and no matter how long he ogles my legs and makes me feel beautiful again.
Fox
Wren’s prickly, antisocial, and she tries to ignore me every time I see her. But when she cracks a smile and lets me in a little, I see her, despite those big, floppy sunhats and sunglasses she wears. She’s desperately holding tight to more than a few secrets. But I’m not going to be so easy to shake, especially after she informs me that her lips get lonely. The least I can do is offer myself up as someone to kiss.
