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I have one rule: never get tied down.

I live and breathe by no strings, but lately everything seems to lack that initial excitement. Those passing fireworks that make the fling worthwhile. There's no snap, no electricity even when the guy checks all my boxes.

Worried I may be broken, I head to Montana with my best friend and her daughter.

After all, if chiseled mountain men can't get my motor going it might just be time to pack it in and spend my weekends wearing bunny slippers and snuggling with my cat.

Just when I start to wonder if my fling days are over, in walks Leo. A sexy as hell, plaid wearing Lumberjack with a heart of gold.

I tell myself it's just another fling. A way to pass the