Seducing Lauren

By: Kristen Proby

For Dad


I’d like to thank my Pocket team for all of your hard work. I couldn’t ask for a more dedicated, helpful, and professional group to work with.

Kevan Lyon, thank you for your persistence and encouragement.

I have to acknowledge my colleagues who have also become my dear friends. Thank you for challenging me, making me laugh, and having my back. Not only do I count you as friends, but I’m a fan too.

And finally, thank you, the reader.




“Hey, Lauren.”

“Hi, Jacob, what can I do for you?” I ask with a smile, and open my front door wider for the friendly county sheriff deputy.

“Well, I’m serving you.” He offers me an embarrassed smile and hands me a large envelope, then backs away. “Have a good day.”

I move back inside, shut the door, and stare down at the envelope in surprise.


I rip open the envelope and see bright, flaming inferno red as I read the court document. And read it again.

“The fucker is suing me?” I exclaim to an empty room, and read the letter clutched in my now trembling hands for the third time. “Hell no!”

I grab my handbag and slide my feet into flip-flops, barely managing not to fall down the porch steps as I tear out of my house to my Mercedes and pull out of the circular driveway.

I live at the edge of Cunningham Falls, Montana. The small town was named after my great-grandfather Albert Cunningham. Ours is a tourist town that boasts a five-star ski resort and a plethora of outdoor activities for any season. Thankfully, summer tourist season is over, and ski season is still a few months away, so traffic into town is light.

I zoom past the post office and into the heart of downtown, where my lawyer’s office is. Without paying any attention to the yellow curb, I park quickly and march into the old building.

The receptionist’s head jerks up in surprise as I approach her and slam the letter still clutched in my hand on her desk.

“This,” I say between clenched teeth, “isn’t going to happen.”

“Ms. Cunningham, do you have an appointment?”

“No, I don’t have an appointment, but someone had better have time to see me.” I am seething; my breath is coming in harsh pants.

“Lauren.” My head whips up at the sound of my name and I find Ty Sullivan frowning at me from his office doorway. “I can see you. Come in.”

I turn my narrowed eyes on Ty and follow him into his office, too agitated to sit while I wait for him to shut the door and walk behind his desk.

“What’s going on?”

“I need a new lawyer.”

“What’s going on?” he asks again, and calmly leans against the windowsill behind his desk. He crosses his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his white button-down are rolled, giving me a great view of the colorful tattoo on his right arm.

“This is what’s going on!” I thrust the letter at him. “Jack is trying to sue me for half of a trust fund that he has no right to.”

Ty’s handsome face frowns as he skims the letter. “You came into the trust while you were still married?”

“Yes,” I confirm warily.

“And you didn’t tell him about it?” he asks with raised brows.

“I didn’t even know the damn thing existed until after my parents died, Ty. Until after I kicked Jack out.” I turn and pace away, breathing deeply, trying to calm down. “He doesn’t deserve a dime of my inheritance. This isn’t about money, it’s about principle.”

“I agree.” Ty shrugs. “Have you talked with Cary?”

“I was just served with the letter,” I mumble, and sink into a leather chair in defeat. “Cary’s a nice guy, but I just don’t think he’s the right lawyer for this job.” I glance up at Ty and my heart skips a beat as I take him in now that I’m calming down. He’s tall; much taller than me, which is saying something, given that I stand higher than five foot eight. He has broad shoulders and lean hips, and holy hell, the things this man does to a suit should be illegal in all fifty states.

But more than that, he’s kind and funny and has a bit of a bad-boy side to him too, hence the tattoos.

Also By Kristen Proby

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