Parentmoon

When my son asked me to take his ticket for the honeymoon that didn't happen, I balked. What would I do on a ten-day vacation in Belize?

More importantly, what caused my son and the love of his life to call off their wedding? I didn't have an answer, and he wasn't sharing. So, I'd traded places with him.

Over a week of sunshine and me-time was on the docket until he arrived.

Dallas Cole had silver in his beard, eyes the color of an ocean, and the most annoying drawl. And by annoying, I mean, thigh-clenching, heart-hammering, make me want to kiss him swagger.

Only, that's something I would never do, because he's the single father of the bride for the wedding that never was, and now, he's encroaching on my parentmoon.

One house. One bed. Not happening.

So what if he calls me darlin' in that swoony voice? Not going there despite his smirky grin amongst the gray on his jaw. Not going to think about the fact he saw me naked . . . by accident.

Nope.

The former father of the bride will only be going head-to-head with this protective mother of the groom, not lips to lips, or any other body part. And definitely not heart-to-heart.