More Than a Helping Hand

A cowboy. A cactus. And my eight-year-old daughter.

 That’s how I end up having dinner with the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. My relationship history is a trail of horrible mistakes. Well, two, but they were really big. Now I’m a single mom, and I have no plans to date. But since my daughter has decided that Anderson is the best thing since sliced bread, I feel the need to spend time with him to know if he’s a good guy.

 One dinner turns into two, and he helps me move. Then I kiss him. One kiss turns into two, and I agree to date him as long as we keep it a secret because I don’t want my daughter to know (or be disappointed if I find I’ve made another mistake).

 But keeping secrets in a small town isn’t always easy to do.