All I heard was blah, blah, blah and hiss, hiss, hiss with a little nom, nom, nom from undeniably skillful lips that made me salivate just enough to piss me off. Poppy pressed an egg into my hand with a wicked smile on her face as tall, dark, and slithery went on about how committed Flexion was to the environment in what was probably a ten-thousand-dollar Italian suit.
I hesitated for a second—I was still a woman with manners and a mother to make proud—but when he started talking about Flexion’s clean diesel, all ability to maintain executive functions went out the window. Lizard brain—activate.
So I did what any hippie bee farmer would do.
I wound up, took a breath, and yelled, “Frack you!” before letting her rip.
The egg sailed in slow motion over the crowd as his face swiveled to the sound of my voice, those dagger-eyes running me through seconds before the egg popped him smack between them.
A laugh shot out of Bettie before she hollered, “Farm fresh, bitch!”
Yolk slid down his nose. His eyes stayed closed for a protracted moment that I suspected he needed to school himself.
When they opened, they locked on mine.
Find out what happens next! Read chapter one: https://stacihartnovels.com/small-town/for-love-or-honey/
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