Asher Wallace has always had a crush on Kasey Ruggieri, but as his best friend’s older sister, not only was she off-limits, but completely out of his league. Now that Kasey’s returned home after her fashion design business imploded, the heat between them is undeniable. Can Asher prove to Kasey that Oak Bend has all that she’s looking for? Fall for this hard-working hottie in Chasing Down the Dream by Jaymee Jacobs, a Best Friend’s Sibling Romance, the first book in the Blue Collar Romance Series.
From USA Today best-selling author Jaymee Jacobs comes a best friend’s sibling romance packed with heat, heart, and happily ever after.
When Kasey Ruggieri returns to her hometown after her fashion design business implodes, she barely recognizes the handsome guy with a smokin’ body who comes to fix the HVAC as her brother's best friend. The skinny teenager she once knew is gone, and when Asher strips off his shirt to work in the boiling heat, Kasey can't take her eyes off his glistening, muscular chest. Now she needs more than air conditioning to cool her desires.
Asher Wallace has had a crush on Kasey ever since he realized girls don’t have cooties. She’s beautiful, talented, and fun. But as his best friend’s older sister, she’s completely out of his league. Once Kasey left Oak Bend to pursue a fashion career in New York City, Asher shelved his boyhood crush and moved on from his college hockey days and into the family's heating and cooling business.
When Kasey and Asher finally connect, there’s enough heat to melt a Michigan winter. But when Kasey stumbles onto a new, profitable fashion venture, will she leave Asher behind for the bright lights of the big city once more? Or can Asher prove to Kasey that love and success can be found close to home?
Welcome to Oak Bend, where blue-collar hotties work hard and love even harder, especially when it comes to landing their happily ever after.
Excerpt
Copyright 2021 Jaymee Jacobs
If I had thought the temperature in this house was hot before Asher showed up, it was absolutely tropical after he arrived. Asher was just a kid the last time I’d seen him, before I’d gone off to college. His voice hadn’t even changed by then. And now, well, now he was all man.
I leaned against the boxes of my stuff stacked in the hallway, watching the way his biceps bunched under the tight sleeves of his T-shirt as he did whatever the hell he was doing to the thermostat. Asher used to be so scrawny.
Of course, I’d seen the way he’d looked at me back then. He was always over at our house, hanging out with Owen, staying for dinner. I knew his parents both worked, but I always wondered if he came to my house so much because of me. As a teenager, that had been a very conceited thought, and I’d forgotten all about it—and Asher—when I’d moved away.
Watching him now was a pleasant distraction from everything. From the fact that I’d had to pack up my life in New York City and move back home to Oak Bend, Michigan, because I couldn’t hack it in the big city. Because I’d made the leap and tried to break out on my own, but I had failed. Now I was back in my hometown with nothing to show for myself except for credit card debt and boxes of stuff.
In fact, watching him do his thing was the first time in a month that I hadn’t been overwhelmed by the heavy feeling of despair in the pit of my stomach weighing me down. I felt relieved to get a break from that sense of despondency, but it was more than that. It wasn’t just a lack of sadness but actual happiness at watching Asher do his thing. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he wiped the beads away with his forearm. I figured it was time to do something more than just watch.
“Can I get you some water?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, turning to look at me with eyes that I’d never realized were so damn blue. How had I never noticed that before? “That’d be great.”
“One sec,” I said, heading into the kitchen. Owen always kept the place stocked up for when he came back into town. He was hardly home, but he liked to be prepared and well-hydrated.
I grabbed two bottles from the fridge and went back into the living room, and oh my God—Asher had peeled off his shirt and was using it as a towel. He had a well-defined six pack and a dusting of dark hair between his pecs. His broad shoulders met up with the bulging muscles of his arms.
Was this real life? Or was I dreaming?
“Here you go.” I reached out to pass him his water. The smooth sheen on his skin caught a glint of sunlight, and I thought maybe I was in the presence of a Greek god. Damn.
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About Jaymee Jacobs
