When the Farmer Met the City Girl Read Online Jessa Kane

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, Erotic, MC, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)

Bianca thought she was saving time by taking a shortcut down the country dirt road, but when she accidentally gets lost and ends up a hundred miles from civilization, she has two options: freeze to death in her car. Or spend the night with Dusty, the shy, giant farmer who offers her assistance.
Dusty can’t believe his weary eyes when he sees the angel stranded in front of his farm. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever encountered—that’s how he knows he can’t have her. No, sir. She’s too far out of his league. But this angel proves merciful, because much to his disbelief, she ends up in his arms. In his bed.
Bianca plans to leave in the morning to return to the city, but now that Dusty has tasted heaven, letting her go will prove impossible…and this farmer will go to any length to keep his angel on the farm where she belongs.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



This is how a slasher film starts.

A girl driving her old, junky car down a back country road under a pitch-black sky…with no cell phone reception. I guess this is how I die. Any second now, my engine is going to make a puttering sound and I’m going to be stranded on the side of this dirt road. There is a scarecrow out in the middle of the cornfield to my right, arms pointing at odd angles. If I squint, I can make out his silhouette. Can’t wait for him to come to life and gut me.

This is not good.

I should have waited until morning to drive from my mother’s house back to the city, where I belong, but I couldn’t take another moment of the constant lecturing. Honestly, if that scarecrow kills me tonight, I think it might be preferable to listening to my mom complain about my lack of job and my unrealistic acting aspirations.

Reluctantly, I pull my car over, because I can no longer see the road in front of me. This shortcut was supposed to save me an hour of driving, which meant saving gas money. Did I take a wrong turn somewhere? There are no streetlights out this way. No gas stations or golden arches. It’s just endless fields of corn and the occasional farm, though I haven’t seen one in over twenty minutes. Did I drive straight off the map? Have I discovered a new land?

With an embarrassing whine, I roll down my window and stick my phone out through the opening. “Come on, reception gods, please give me a bar. One bar.” The corner of my screen remains stubbornly blank, the fuel gauge on my dashboard taunting me with a red arrow pointing way too far to the left. “I am really not dressed for a trek to the gas station,” I mutter, looking down at my black bustier and neon yellow leather skirt. Oh, and ankle boots with stiletto heels.

I don’t dress like this all the time.

Mostly, I wore this to piss off my mother.

But I do love a daring fashion choice. In a city full of aspiring actresses, a girl needs to find a way to stand out to the casting directors. I’ve always loved fashion and I have a penchant for putting together last-minute outfits among the thrift shop’s bargain bins. When it comes to those secondhand stores, there are two choices. Dress like a grandma or dress like you’re going to the club. I’m only twenty and I have a lot of life to live, so I choose club kid.

Although, tonight, a pair of jeans and some Adidas would have been greatly appreciated.

I drop my head back against the seat, closing my eyes against the hot pressure swelling behind my lids. No. I will not cry. I will not cry. I’m tougher than this. I’ve survived on my own, broke as a joke in the city for two years. I can sleep in my car for a night and start driving again in the morning. And hopefully, avoid being murdered by that scarecrow.

Is it moving?

“No.” I shake my head. “Stop. You’re being ridiculous.”

With hasty motions, I roll my window back up and turn off the car. As soon as the heat cuts out, I realize how cold it is. Within seconds, the air in the car becomes icy and I start to shiver. My overnight bag is in the trunk, but all I have in there is a thin cardigan.

“Better than nothing,” I murmur. “But this means you must leave the safety of the car. This is the dilemma that will ultimately get you killed.”

Not going to lie, I love the drama of this. Just a little. I’m an actress, after all. My ultimate dream is to be the hot, screaming damsel in distress in a movie. This is not a movie, however. This is real life and I need to be quick here. Grab the cardigan and race straight back to the driver’s side of—

A tingle pops up on the left side of my neck.

Like I’m being watched.

What the…heck?

I cup my hands around my eyes and press them to the cold glass of the window, peering out into the darkness. But the moon has passed behind some clouds and of course, I can’t see a single thing. Just black.

“Forget the cardigan,” I whisper. “I’ll gladly freeze.”

I’m not the screaming damsel of this slasher film.

I’m the smart best friend who lives to the credits.

Trying desperately to ignore the goosebumps that continue to prickle the left side of my neck, I recline my chair and curl into myself, calling on all my meditation skills to block out the chill in the air. Only a few hours until daylight and then I can find my way back to civilization.

My chattering teeth and shivering body question my conviction.