Evie Mitchell eBook Double Breasted (EBOOK)
Evie Mitchell eBook Double Breasted (EBOOK)
Evie Mitchell eBook Double Breasted (EBOOK)
Evie Mitchell eBook Double Breasted (EBOOK)
Evie Mitchell eBook NSFW Cover Double Breasted (EBOOK)

Double Breasted (EBOOK)

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This could be the start of an eggcellent love story...

I moved back to Capricorn Cove to escape the daily grind of the city and be closer to my brother and sister and their growing families.
So, what did I do? I bought a chicken farm, Yep. I traded in suits and briefcases for overalls and gumboots.
Look... it sounded like a good idea at the time.
And it was...for all of five minutes. That's how long it took for me to figure out that my chickens are Satan's minions as they tried to burn down the barn.
Worst day ever.
Or at least, it was. Enter Teresa 'Teddy' Prince. The hottest firefighter I've ever clapped eyes on and my newest crush. Perhaps my chickens aren't so bad after all…

When meeting the woman I might want to spend the rest of my life with, I expected sparks not a goddamned fire.
Willow is funny, creative, intriguing—and available.
But I've been burned before, and I know she's hiding something. After all, no one just up and buys a chicken farm… right?

Warning: This book is inspired by strong women, crazy chickens, and hot summer nights. So, get thee a partner, some lingerie, and settle in — this book is bound to ruffle your feathers.

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"And remember, you can call anytime if you have any issues," Mrs. Regis reminded me. "We're only down the road."

I nodded, holding the door to her ancient car as she climbed in. "Don't worry about me, you've been a fabulous help. I'm sure I'll be fine."

She paused staring at me for a moment then shook her head, muttering, "City girls." With that ringing endorsement, she turned to her husband. "Drive, Phil."

I shut the door, waving as the couple took off, finally leaving me in peace.

It's not that I didn't appreciate their assistance, I really did. But when I'd purchased the chicken farm I hadn't expected them to stay another month after settlement.

"We'll stay and train you, dear,” Mrs. Regis, the smiling assassin, had told me with a little pat to my arm. "Chicken farming ain't as easy as we make it look."

Regis eggs were a local institution. The farm produced eggs that were transported to every seller in town and select restaurants around the state.

"Happy chickens," Mrs. Regis had explained over a delicious quiche one night. “Produce the best eggs. It's the joy you can taste."

While I was sure that had to be true, it didn't hurt that they had cultivated a flock of poultry that won awards year-round.

But the Regis' were getting on in years, and their kids had no interest in carrying on the farm, so they'd listed it for sale.

I'd been in my final month of my final round of chemotherapy, sitting in a cold hospital room with a bald head and still healing chest, when I'd stumbled across their listing.

Perhaps it was the fact I'd just had both breasts removed. Perhaps it was the weather. Or perhaps it was the offhanded comment my mother had made about my appearance earlier that week—asking if I would consider wearing a wig to make my health issues less obvious. Whatever the reason, I'd done the unthinkable. I'd called the real estate agent and put in an offer. I'd quit my job that afternoon, put my townhouse on the market, booked a one way ticket back to Astir, rented a tiny beach bungalow down the street from my sister, and moved back to Capricorn Cove while I recovered.

Maddison had come for the first few months, but after getting the all-clear from my surgeon and celebrating with tears and champagne, she’d patted me on the shoulder, packed up her things, and left to return to the States and help her next patient.

She still texted me every night to remind me to eat vegetables with dinner. Gods bless her heart. 

Back in the Cove, I'd waited with anxious breath while the homeowners had taken their time deciding whether to accept my offer. After some toing-and-froing, they'd finally accepted. And last month, I'd finally taken ownership of the farm.

Today would be my first day alone – Mr. and Mrs. Regis having finally determined that I was a capable enough farmer for them to move into their son's garage apartment full-time.

Gods help them.  

Though I had no doubt Mrs. Regis would be back to cluck over her brood at some point in the near future.

As their car disappeared down the long driveway, I turned back to survey my new home. The old ranch needed repairs and updates, but the sheds were in perfect condition. There was a large barn, including a cold room, which was where the eggs were stored and packaged before pick-up. Off the barn was a small office and break room for the workers. The chickens were all free-range, which meant there were three gigantic moveable coops which circled the large property, encouraging the birds to diversify their diet. The entire property was surrounded by a predator-proof fence that required daily checks.

Tomorrow my employees would arrive, and we'd get to work collecting eggs and sorting production. But today, I wanted to enjoy the quiet sunny Sunday.

I headed inside, pouring myself a cup of coffee and snagging a book from my shelf before taking a seat on the porch swing.

Sucking in a deep breath I closed my eyes, breathing in my surroundings. 


For the first time in forever I felt at peace. Sure, life at the farm would no doubt be crazy. But today, in this moment, I had exactly what I was searching for. 

Or at least I did until I took my first sip of coffee. 

An alarm split the air, wailing across the yard.

Startled, I splashed coffee on myself as I stood, gasping as I caught sight of the black smoke billowing from one of the sheds.

Wait. What!?

"Fuck!" I sprang to my feet, my mug tumbling with a crash to the porch as I leapt to the ground. "Oh God, please, no!"

The shed was off to the side of my main yard and stored things to run the packing machinery. Things like oil, gas, and other chemicals. 

"Oh shit." I skidded to a halt, staring at the flames licking the roof of the shed. A small flock of escapee chickens, led by a large black rooster, fluttered about in a panic.

"Houdini!" I howled at the rooster, heading to the shed. "What the fuck did you do?!"

The smoke alarm was routed to automatically alert the local fire department. I just needed to contain the spread as much as possible until they arrived.

I pulled the fire extinguisher from the wall, quickly reading the tag, coughing as the smoke filled my lungs.

"Pull the pin, aim, squeeze slowly, sweep from side to side," I read, following the instructions. "And try not to fucking panic!"

I squeezed the lever, sweeping to cover the flames in foam. It seemed to work for about two minutes then the fire came back, roaring as it caught a can of gasoline.

"Nope, I'm out."

I tossed the extinguisher to the side, backing up to what I felt was a safe distance as the flames began to consume the shed.

"Five minutes, Willow. Five fucking minutes you've been alone on this farm and you already burn a shed down." I crossed my arms over my chest, shock setting in. "Jesus, this was a terrible idea."

The familiar wail of the fire engine drew closer and I turned, watching them roar down my drive, coming to a stop a little way from me.

"Anyone inside?" a man asked as he leaped from the truck.

"No, it's just me today."

He nodded. "Anything we should know about in there?"

"It's a storage shed, gasoline, likely other flammable and explosive chemicals."


They worked quickly, the team laying foam down to settle the fire. One of them backed me up, explaining that they were using oxygen as they weren't yet sure if the smoke was hazardous.

Great, another item to add to my list of things-that-might-kill-Willow.

It took about an hour for them to extinguish the flames and comb through the rubble, making sure no embers hid in the stinking, smoking wreck.

I could practically see the money disappearing from my account when the insurance agency heard about this.

Farewell, low premiums.

I'd pulled myself together enough to go looking for Houdini and his flock. I found them pecking at a patch of clover behind the herb garden. I'd bribed them with handfuls of corn, and managed to get them back down to their hutch. I'd expected some disaster, like a foxhole or ripped-off side that had enabled their escape. Instead, the door to the hutch was unhinged, swaying uselessly in the breeze.

"Oh, for Gods sake." I threw a handful of corn in the hutch, shifting as the chickens darted toward the delicious treat. Once safely inside, I shut the door, double-checking the latch.

Mr. Regis had been responsible for feeding this lot this morning, but I didn't want to assign blame. Shit happened, and you just dealt with it.

Don't I know it?

With the chickens taken care of, though I had no doubt the stressed hens wouldn't be laying for a few days, I headed back up to the house and the waiting questions from the firefighters.

The guy who'd secured the scene earlier fell into step beside me.

"We're just checking for the source of the fire." He nodded at the charred corpse of the shed. "We should be done in about an hour."

I blew out a breath, running my hand down my face, grimacing when it came away smudged with ash.

"Thanks." I nodded at the assembled crew. "Can I get you guys some coffee, or water, or… something?"

"Water would be great, thanks. And sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the police will be here shortly. They'll want a statement."

I huffed out a laugh. "Great. The in-laws are descending."

"In-law—?” He was cut off by the screaming wail of police sirens.

With all lights blazing and siren on full, the patrol car careened down my drive, skidding to a halt beside the fire truck. My brother-in-law, Sheriff Tristan Rodriguez, leapt from the car.

"Willodean! What happened? Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine, Tristan. The only damage is the shed and a few ruffled feathers."

He pulled me in for a hug, giving me a tight squeeze. "Thank God. Wasn't sure how I'd be able to tell Honey about this one."

"Something, something, Willow was killed by her chickens?" I asked.

He let me go with a final squeeze. "I told you chickens were to be feared."

Tristan, I'd learned, had an aversion to my feathered friends. Something to do with a childhood run-in with a rooster. At the last dinner party hosted by Honey and Tristan, I'd tried to get the story from Wolf, Tristan's younger brother, but he'd been unable to communicate, he'd laughed so hard.

I will find out one day. 

He gave me a once-over. "Weren't the Regis' leaving today?"

I laughed, nodding. "It's taken me a whole year to get to this point, and on my first day alone, there's a fire. How is this my life?"

A throat cleared behind me.

"Sheriff, a word?"

We turned, and my heart went boom.

Oh. Wow.

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