Small Town Surrogate (Sins of the South Book 6) by Marion Meadows

Small Town Surrogate (Sins of the South Book 6) by Marion Meadows

Author:Marion Meadows [Meadows, Marion]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marion Meadows
Published: 2023-10-21T16:00:00+00:00


A cold fresh morning dawned over Rowanville, Virginia. The sleepy city nestled in a valley of the Blue Ridge slowly came to life as the blue hour of dawn faded into day. Down the mountain pickup trucks rumbled into the city, and the routines of two hundred thousand people began anew for a Thursday like any other.

High up in Crown Vista, Angel woke up in a feather bed. She knew it was feathers from the smell of down, which was familiar to her, but she couldn’t say where. When she turned her head, her eyebrows coming together in a confused frown, a whiff of something else tugged at her nose.

Coffee.

Groaning, she sat up. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth and it took a minute for her eyelids to unglue themselves. Her arms and legs felt heavy as a bitch. She blinked into the gloomy atmosphere of the room, trying to make out where she was.

She saw a dresser with a framed picture of four men. Brothers? A man’s hairbrush, cologne, a rumpled old tie. The room smelled like aftershave and new sheets. She gulped. I’m in a man’s room. Okay.

My titties hurt.

“Hello?” she croaked. Her voice sounded like she hadn’t used it in months.

Suddenly the curtains pulled back, and a shaft of light burst into the room directly into her eyes. Ouch! She ducked her face into her hands. “Ahh! Damn,” she complained.

“Good morning,” came a deep male voice. Angel blinked up into the jarring brightness and a figure took shape, a great big shadow with a lot of curly hair.

Her jaw dropped.

“Woah,” he said. “Easy, darling, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” She said, putting up her hands between them. “I don’t know you. Where the fuck am I? What’s going on?”

“Easy on the language, alright?”

“Motherfucker, I don’t know you! Get away from me!”

She looked down at her bare legs. All she wore was some little lacy white thing, like a fancy underwear. She plucked at the hem of it. When did she put that on? She backed up from the man further.

“My name is Ross. I expect you’ll be confused from the sedative.”

“The what?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said in a calm voice that drawled out like dark molasses off a spoon. But despite his tone she saw he was aggravated; his dark eyebrows slashed together and his freckled face and chest were turning redder. “Just relax, alright?”

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“Ross. I guess it will take a minute for you to get your bearings.”

“Ross?” She frowned.

“Did it affect your hearing, too?”

“Mister, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She rubbed her eyes as the man walked back to the window and jerked the curtains back over it a little. Better. That light was a bitch. She rubbed her watering eyes. “I feel like I spent the night on skid row.”

“Close enough,” said Ross dryly.

Quickly she sized him up. Six foot one, maybe two. Broad-shouldered, so he worked out. Hairy chest— white, or mixed.



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