“Heartfelt, hilarious, with a dash of angst...Karla Sorensen shines with the perfect feel-good read!” --Author Catherine Cowles
Batter of Wits, an all-new funny and heartwarming romance from Karla Sorensen, is now available in Kindle Unlimited!
Hate at first sight couldn’t possibly exist, right?
That’s what Grace Buchanan thought, before her useless car stranded her on the side of a deserted road just inside the Green Valley city limits.
When Tucker Haywood—tall and handsome and full of southern charm— shows up to help, her reaction to him is the strongest thing she’s ever felt in her life, and it makes no freaking sense.
It doesn’t make much sense to Tucker either. Not why she hates him, or why he finds her so intriguing. He knows well enough that Grace is moving to Green Valley for a fresh start, not to distract him when he’s got no room for something like her in his life.
The complications between them are endless, but that doesn’t stop her definitely not love-at-first-sight feelings from changing into something else entirely.
Grace and Tucker are about to learn the hard way that in Green Valley, hating someone has never tasted so sweet.
‘Batter of Wits’ is a full-length contemporary romance, can be read as a standalone, and is book #5 in the Donner Bakery series, Green Valley World, Penny Reid Book Universe.
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Excerpt
When I looked down, her hands were fisted on the countertop, shaking from the effort of keeping them still.
"I'd take a picture of that," I told her, voice low and charged.
She tilted her chin up toward me. "Of what?"
In the low light of the apartment, her eyes glowed like melted gold.
"Your hands." I licked my suddenly dry lips. "I feel like they're telling me something that I can't figure out."
Grace peered down at the fists she was making, and her fingers relaxed, the skin no longer white around her knuckles.
"What are they telling me, Grace?" I begged.
She ducked under my arm and I exhaled heavily. Without the heat from her body against mine, I took a second to get myself under control. When I turned, she was handing me her camera.
"Go ahead," she said.
I tilted my head. "You want me to take your picture?"
Grace studied the camera, carefully removing the lens cap and pulling it up to her eyes. She aimed it at my face, and I wondered what she saw. If I looked like I was one thread away from snapping, because that's how I felt.
I'd never felt like I was one quick step away from freedom, but here, I was. One nudge over the edge of the cliff, and she'd have me free falling without a parachute. I'd never, ever wanted it so badly.
When I heard the click of the shutter, I rubbed the back of my neck. "Can I see?"
She ignored me, pulling the camera away so she could look at the digital image on the back. Her lips curved in a secret little smile.
"What do you see?" I asked.
Her chest expanded on an inhale. "Frustration." Her eyes met mine. "Want."
Words lodged in my chest, and I couldn't tear them loose.
I held my hand out and she passed the camera to me. With a rough swallow, I squinted at the tiny viewfinder once it was at eye-level. Grace came into my eye line, holding my gaze with such directness that I fought the urge not to throw the camera across the room simply because it was between us.
It was her turn to ask. "What do you see?"
My finger pushed the slick button on top of the camera, and her mouth curled in surprise that I took a shot.
I pushed the button again as she took a step closer.
"You're not answering me," she said lightly.
"Because I can hardly think straight when you're looking at me like that." My admission was rough and hard, out before I could stop it.
She took another step, within reach now, and one of her hands slid up my forearm.
One more picture, the sound of the shutter snapping between us like a shot.
Somehow, I set it down on the counter without smashing it.
"You can't lie to a camera," Grace said quietly, watching her hand on my arm before the other landed on my heaving chest. "It captures things as are they are, good or bad or ugly or beautiful."
I slid an arm around her waist and tightened my grip until she was flush against me. My other hand pushed up the back of her neck and into her hair.
"This is insane," she breathed, dropping her forehead onto my chest.
"No, it's not."
Grace lifted her head and pinned me in place. "Tucker, seventy-two hours ago, I hated you. You can't tell me this doesn't feel a little nuts."
I couldn't stop my smile. "You didn't hate me. Not really."
One eyebrow lifted. "Wanna bet?"
"I'd take a picture of that," I told her, voice low and charged.
She tilted her chin up toward me. "Of what?"
In the low light of the apartment, her eyes glowed like melted gold.
"Your hands." I licked my suddenly dry lips. "I feel like they're telling me something that I can't figure out."
Grace peered down at the fists she was making, and her fingers relaxed, the skin no longer white around her knuckles.
"What are they telling me, Grace?" I begged.
She ducked under my arm and I exhaled heavily. Without the heat from her body against mine, I took a second to get myself under control. When I turned, she was handing me her camera.
"Go ahead," she said.
I tilted my head. "You want me to take your picture?"
Grace studied the camera, carefully removing the lens cap and pulling it up to her eyes. She aimed it at my face, and I wondered what she saw. If I looked like I was one thread away from snapping, because that's how I felt.
I'd never felt like I was one quick step away from freedom, but here, I was. One nudge over the edge of the cliff, and she'd have me free falling without a parachute. I'd never, ever wanted it so badly.
When I heard the click of the shutter, I rubbed the back of my neck. "Can I see?"
She ignored me, pulling the camera away so she could look at the digital image on the back. Her lips curved in a secret little smile.
"What do you see?" I asked.
Her chest expanded on an inhale. "Frustration." Her eyes met mine. "Want."
Words lodged in my chest, and I couldn't tear them loose.
I held my hand out and she passed the camera to me. With a rough swallow, I squinted at the tiny viewfinder once it was at eye-level. Grace came into my eye line, holding my gaze with such directness that I fought the urge not to throw the camera across the room simply because it was between us.
It was her turn to ask. "What do you see?"
My finger pushed the slick button on top of the camera, and her mouth curled in surprise that I took a shot.
I pushed the button again as she took a step closer.
"You're not answering me," she said lightly.
"Because I can hardly think straight when you're looking at me like that." My admission was rough and hard, out before I could stop it.
She took another step, within reach now, and one of her hands slid up my forearm.
One more picture, the sound of the shutter snapping between us like a shot.
Somehow, I set it down on the counter without smashing it.
"You can't lie to a camera," Grace said quietly, watching her hand on my arm before the other landed on my heaving chest. "It captures things as are they are, good or bad or ugly or beautiful."
I slid an arm around her waist and tightened my grip until she was flush against me. My other hand pushed up the back of her neck and into her hair.
"This is insane," she breathed, dropping her forehead onto my chest.
"No, it's not."
Grace lifted her head and pinned me in place. "Tucker, seventy-two hours ago, I hated you. You can't tell me this doesn't feel a little nuts."
I couldn't stop my smile. "You didn't hate me. Not really."
One eyebrow lifted. "Wanna bet?"
About Karla Sorensen
Karla Sorensen has been an avid reader her entire life, preferring stories with a happily-ever-after over just about any other kind. And considering she has an entire line item in her budget for books, she realized it might just be cheaper to write her own stories. It doesn’t take much to keep her happy…a book, a really big glass of wine, and at least thirty minutes of complete silence every day. She still keeps her toes in the world of health care marketing, where she made her living pre-babies. Now she stays home, writing and mommy-ing full time (this translates to almost every day being a ‘pajama day’ at the Sorensen household…don’t judge). She lives in West Michigan with her husband, two exceptionally adorable sons and big, shaggy rescue dog.
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