Which said a lot because Miranda Rivers had become quite the expert over the years. Thanks entirely to her mother—part-time B is for Beautiful independent makeup consultant and full-time buckle bunny—Miranda had witnessed hundreds of Stetsons bobbing through the front door of the single wide trailer where she’d grown up. A parade that had continued as her two older sisters had matured and carried on their mother’s weakness for men with tight Wranglers, starched shirts and a wild and reckless charm. It was a weakness that had eventually killed Chastity Rivers. She’d fallen too hard, too fast, for a man who’d rejected her. She’d been so devastated that she’d killed herself and left her daughters to finish raising themselves. Miranda had been fourteen at the time. Lucy and Robin had been older, sixteen and nineteen, but it had been Miranda who’d stepped up to take the lead in the family. She’d cleaned the house and cooked dinner while her sisters had strutted their stuff, stayed out all night and stirred up as much gossip as possible.
