When passion is the perfect storm
Successful career woman Paxton Jones has come a long way from her dirt-poor roots—and the girl with an unrequited crush on high school football star Sawyer Robertson. Gauthier’s privileged golden boy was way out of her league…until one passion-filled night. But when a project close to her heart reunites them, Paxton has to rein in her still-smoldering feelings for the devastatingly handsome civil engineer.
Three years ago, Sawyer shared the most incredible night of his life with the woman he’d long admired. Afterward, Paxton left town without even saying goodbye. Now, thrown together on a mission to protect their vulnerable Louisiana community, they clash on everything—except their reigniting desire for each other. As disaster threatens and Sawyer and Paxton put aside their differences for a greater cause, will they find a love that can heal all wounds?
He nudged his nose behind her ear and whispered, “It’s a risk to go any further in a public park, but I’m willing to go all the way if you are.”
Even as his words caused a shudder to run through her, they jerked Paxton out of her sensual daze.
She couldn’t get lost in his kiss again. She wouldn’t. She still shouldered so much guilt from the last time they did this. She couldn’t take on any more.
“I can’t,” she said, pulling slightly away. She gave him a gentle push, when what she really wanted to do was pull him closer.
Damn it. She so didn’t want to stop.
But she knew she should. After the way she’d preyed upon his vulnerabilities the last time, using him for her own pleasure yet again would just complicate things. They still had to work together; she could not afford complications.
He swooped in for another kiss, but she held him back. “Stop,” she said.
Paxton could feel the reluctance in the way his shoulders dropped, but he backed away.
When he looked at her his expression was a mixture of annoyance and lingering desire.
“Why do you keep doing that?” he asked. “For someone who’s so damn smart, you keep making this same stupid move. We can be good together, Pax. Can’t you see that?”
“No,” she said, straightening her blouse, which had skewed during their unbelievably heated kiss.
When I first started the Bayou Dreams series, I was certain it would end after the third story. Yet, here we are six books later, and I am still as enamored with the fictional town of Gauthier as I was when I penned the first book, A Forever Kind of Love. It seems that every time my imagination returns to that sleepy bayou town, more and more interesting characters pop up, demanding that their stories be told.
This was definitely the case with Sawyer Robertson and Paxton Jones. I had great fun delving into their lives and giving these two the perfect happily-ever-after. I hope you enjoy reading Stay with Me Forever as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Blessings,
Farrah Rochon
Stay with Me Forever
Farrah Rochon
FARRAH ROCHON had dreams of becoming a fashion designer as a teenager, until she discovered she would be expected to wear something other than jeans to work every day. Thankfully, the coffee shop where she writes does not have a dress code. When Farrah is not penning stories, the USA TODAY bestselling author and avid sports fan feeds her addiction to football by attending New Orleans Saints games.
Contents
The newspaper Paxton Jones held over her head was no match for the fat raindrops being pelted from the storm clouds hovering in the gray skies. She tossed the useless shield onto the backseat, cursing her bad habit of forgetting to put her umbrella back in the car after she used it.
“Girl, get out of that rain before you catch a cold!”
Paxton looked over her shoulder to find her mother standing on the narrow porch that surrounded what, up until this weekend, was known to the people of Gauthier, Louisiana, as Harlon’s Bar. Over the past three days, the fifty-five-year-old clapboard structure had undergone a massive overhaul, complete with a new owner and a brand-new name: the River Road Bar and Grille.
At least that was the official name on the new deed, but Paxton had never been one to kid herself. She knew it would take an act of Congress to convince the longtime residents in Landreaux—which was technically still part of Gauthier but was divided from the rest of the town by Landreaux Creek—to call this place anything but Harlon’s. If they were lucky, maybe she and her mother could eventually cajole them into calling it Belinda’s, but Paxton wasn’t holding her breath.
“You’re going to get sick,” her mother called again. “Get in here!”
“Give me just a minute,” Paxton called back to her.
Scooping up the bags of cleaning supplies she’d just purchased from the Gauthier Pharmacy and Feed Store, she dashed from her Lincoln MKX to the bar’s newly installed wooden steps. As she made her way up to the small landing, Paxton slipped on