Broken Open. Lauren DaneЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Beyond passion. And beyond their control…
Five years ago, Tuesday Eastwood’s life collapsed and left her devastated. After an empty, nomadic existence, she’s finally pieced her life back together in the small Oregon town of Hood River. Now Tuesday has everything sorted out. Just so long as men are kept for sex, and only sex…
Then she met him.
Musician and rancher Ezra Hurley isn’t the man of Tuesday’s dreams. He’s a verboten fantasy—a man tortured by past addictions whose dark charisma and long, lean body promise delicious carnality. But this craving goes far beyond chemistry. It’s primal. It’s insatiable. And it won’t be satisfied until they’re both consumed, body and soul…
Broken Open
Lauren Dane
This one goes out to the boy who bought me a rum and Coke
in Paris and let me rant at him for hours after an upsetting phone call. Thank you for always having my back and feeding me liquor.
Contents
Before: December
HER WORKDAY OVER, Tuesday Eastwood turned the display lights up before locking her front doors. That’s when she realized how cold it was and flipped her collar against the wind with one hand while hurrying to where she’d parked her car.
As she paused to cross at the corner and look both ways, she caught sight of Ezra Hurley. It wasn’t one of those moments when you caught sight of a person and then realized who it was once they got closer.
No, she knew it was Ezra because for some befuddling reason she was hyperaware of him. He looked good as he waited for traffic, a grin on his face.
In the entirety of her life no one had ever made her belly feel the same quivery, excited swoop when she looked at him. At the rugged, masculine lines of his features. Like his brothers, yes, he was attractive. But he wore it differently than the other three brothers did.
Ezra Hurley was a Capital M Man. In that riding horses, baling hay, hands in the dirt, well-worn jeans way. Well-worn jeans that currently cradled a rear end that a sculptor would drool over. The kind of being who seemed to emanate utter capability.
How or why that was so hot to her Tuesday didn’t know. But it was.
Even in a wool cap and a peacoat he radiated that something special he tossed around like catnip. In addition to being a rancher, he was a rock star. A onetime hard-living, jet-setting, arena-filling rock star fallen to earth, crashing and burning.
The flames had left him imperfect. But no less compelling.
“Hey, Tuesday.” He reached the spot where she’d been rooted as she thought about him naked.
“Ezra. What brings you out tonight?”
“Errands. I was just planning to grab some dinner and head back home.” He paused for just a moment. “What are you up to right now? Want to have dinner with me?”
She nodded even though she knew it was a bad idea. Ezra wasn’t just a gorgeous rancher–hugely successful musician with a butt any sane woman would want to take a bite of.
He was also the oldest brother of Tuesday’s best friend Natalie’s boyfriend. It sounded convoluted, sure, but it meant trouble if anything bad happened between Natalie and Paddy, Ezra’s brother.
Tuesday