Resisting Rose

Rose Bloom has never wanted anything more than to take over the family farm and care for the animals she loves. The goats make better company than men in her experience, anyway. She’s determined to prove to her father that despite being the youngest, she’s the best person for the job.

Tate Russell left Montana desperate to buck his own family’s expectations. Landing on Bloom’s Farm four years ago was a stroke of pure luck. He knows more about animals than farming, but he’s learned to love it. Plus, Rose lets him exercise the horses whenever he needed time to think. If only so much of his thinking wasn’t about her.

They want totally different things out of life, but their friendship grows stronger every day. As friendship slowly evolves into something more, they both struggle to maintain the status quo. When Tate’s past comes calling and Rose's ambitions are on the line, will their relationship survive?

Resisting Rose is Book 6 in the Bloom Sisters Series. This small town, family saga is full of heartwarming themes, swoony-worthy kisses, and sweet happy endings.

Nancy, kindle customer5.0 out of 5 stars Fantastic book!

Reviewed in the United States on June 19, 2021

Another excellent book added to the Bloom Sisters collection! Rose is such a sweet woman who loves animals dearly and works really hard at the Bloom family farm to take care of all the animals and run the petting zoo. Tate is a farm hand working in the greenhouses and with the crops. Rose and Tate develop a great friendship as he also loves animals. Slow, gentle sparks start to fly between them, but then life comes in to interfere. Will they be able to continue their relationship as more than friends? You have to read it to find out and there are lots of twists and turns to keep you riveted reading this book. Another fantastic read by Tara! But you will love it more if you start at the beginning of the series!

Tate showed the college student how to water the
seedlings with the gentle misters hanging near soil level in the greenhouse.
The tiny tomato plants would be transplanted in May, still months away. There
was still plenty of work to be done before then. The greenhouse was the center
of all the farm activity on these cold February days. The heated building was
the key to a productive growing season when the Indiana weather warmed up in
the spring.

He let his employee take over and glanced around
the building. He’d held a lot of jobs in the decade since he left home, and the
difference between his family’s ranch in Montana and the hybrid family farm in
Indiana had been interesting. He didn’t know much about growing crops when he
started. Poppy Bloom had been a good teacher, along with Hawthorne, who was
technically his boss.

As though summoned by the thought, the door to
the greenhouse swung open and Hawthorne ducked inside. Tate felt the cold blast
of air wash through the building and watched Hawthorne stomp the snow from his boots. Hawthorne removed his stocking cap. “Ah, it feels good in here.”

“A balmy 60 degrees for our little sprouts.
How’s it going?”

Hawthorne shrugged. “Heater on the goat trough
is on the fritz, so I was down there looking at it.”

Tate nodded his head. Been there, but with
cattle back in Montana. Keeping the water from freezing could become its own
full-time job if the equipment didn’t cooperate.

“Rose said to tell you that Margie is getting
close to kidding and to leave your phone on tonight.”

The goat had been close for what seemed like
weeks, but he just nodded. Helping Rose with the animals wasn’t exactly in his
job description, but he didn’t mind. Rose did most of the work anyway, with her
vet tech experience combined with her years growing up on the farm. It would be
a lot more convenient if animals didn’t almost always insist on the middle of
the night to deliver their babies.

“Anything else?”

Hawthorne glanced back at the door with a groan.
“My toes are barely thawed. Surely you’ve got a job for me in here.”

Tate looked around the greenhouse at the handful
of employees packing soil blocks and seeding. When the flats full of tiny
onions and celery were full, they would slide neatly into the racks with high
intensity lights to help them grow.

“I do have a bank of lights that isn’t working.
I was going to take a look at it, but you are welcome to handle it instead. I’m
guessing it’s just a fuse.”

Hawthorne clapped his hands together, still
covered with the padded winter gloves. “Perfect. I’ll take a look.”

Tate felt his phone vibrate with a text message.
He pointed Hawthorne to the broken unit of lights before checking the screen.

RB: Tonight’s the night. I’m almost positive. I’ll bring the
coffee this time.

TR: Are you *kidding* me? (pun intended)

He could almost picture Rose rolling her eyes at
him and he chuckled. Then quickly sent another message.

TR: I’ll be there.

It would make tomorrow an especially long day,
but there was something incredible about seeing an animal being brought into
the world. No matter how many times he saw it, he would never tire of seeing
how God had created everything to work so naturally.

He still sometimes wished he’d been able to take
over the livestock operation instead. Rose had proven remarkably stubborn in
that regard.

He smiled, remembering the first time she’d
caught him in her barn. She’d immediately been defensive, with a snarky tone
and lots of questions, but when their mutual love of the animals had become
obvious, she warmed up to the newcomer. That had been four years ago, and now
Rose was probably his closest friend in the world. Between living at the farm
in his trailer and working there, he didn’t have a lot of friends. Hawthorne was quite a bit older than Tate and busy with his wife, Avery. The solitude didn’t bother Tate. The less he talked to people, the fewer questions he had to
answer. Everyone was always curious about why he’d left Montana, which he’d
rather not talk about.

Even Rose didn’t really know the whole story.
She was his closest friend in the world, but his past was better left
untouched. Besides, how could Rose understand? Her family was the epitome of
love and affection. His on the other hand? Not even close.

He tucked his phone back into the pocket of his
jeans and shrugged into his brown Carhartt coat. “I’m headed to my office. Call
me if you need anything.” His office was tucked in the corner of the large barn
that served as the base for the produce operation and housed their tractors,
seeds, and staging ground for sales. He dreaded the paperwork, but now was the
most critical time for tracking the number of community-supported agriculture,
or CSA, basket subscribers. He also had to carefully plan and manage the
schedule and real estate for the greenhouse and the fields for the next six
months. Poppy had left efficient systems in place, but as the programs grew, it
was up to him to adjust. If things continued like they were, he might consider
proposing an additional greenhouse.

It felt good to be trusted to make suggestions.
His opinion was respected at Bloom’s Farm in a way it never had been at home.
Another reason he was tempted to stick around longer than he thought he would.

* * *

Rose spread the pig feed around the pen so Tank,
the largest male, wouldn’t eat more than his fair share before the others had a
chance. In the pen with the females, she did the same. The piglets were still
nursing, but they were starting to eat the feed as well.

Rose checked their water and carefully stepped
through the gate before closing it behind her. Her breath formed clouds in
front of her in the frigid air, and the two layers of wool socks didn’t help nearly enough with keeping her toes warm in the muck boots she wore.

She stopped by Margie’s enclosure again and saw
the mother goat pacing gently. She’d been on the verge of kidding for days, but
tonight was definitely the night. Rose grinned in anticipation. The petting zoo
visitors this summer would love the new additions. Rose lifted her arms over
her head and stretched. She’d already been working for nearly five hours, and
it was only noon. If tonight was slated to be as late as she suspected, a nap
this afternoon might be in order.

Unsurprisingly, there was too much to do and not
enough time. In the cold February days, taking care of the animals wasn’t for
the faint of heart. She loved it though. Growing up on Bloom’s Farm, helping
her father with the animals and the crops, she’d developed a deep love for it.
Being trained as a veterinary technician had been a logical decision for her.
Her schooling gave her an extra level of confidence when making decisions and
caring for the livestock. Unfortunately, it seemed no matter how much time she
spent caring for the animals, her family would always view her as little Rosie,
the baby of the family who needed to be coddled and supervised.

She caught a glimpse of her father near the edge
of the barn and rolled her eyes. There he was again, supervising her. Rose
tamped down the frustration and lifted a hand in greeting.

Keith walked toward her with a smile. “Hey,
Rosie. How’s Margie looking?”

“She’s close. It’s got to be tonight. How are
you doing?” She’d never look at her father the same way she used to. She
scanned his face for signs of fatigue and took a step closer in case he needed
a steadying arm.

He smiled. “I’m doing great, Rosie. Don’t you
worry. Mind if I take a look at Margie, too?”

Rose smiled tightly. “Sure thing.” Of course,
her dad wanted to check himself, as though she hadn’t handled dozens of
kiddings in the last three years alone. She loved him deeply, but sometimes she
just wanted her dad to see her as capable.

“You’re right, she’s already in the early stages. Do you need Hawthorne to help tonight?”

Rose shook her head. “No, but thanks. Tate and I
will be out here in case she needs anything.” She immediately regretted
including Tate’s presence in that statement. If he couldn’t come, she would
have been fine on her own.

Keith nodded. “Sounds good.” Rose couldn’t help
but wonder if he would have pushed Hawthorne on her if Tate wasn’t around. Did
he trust everyone more than her? Her dad walked away and Rose brushed the hair
from her face and sniffled from the cold air. It didn’t matter. She was a Bloom, and this was her farm.