Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
When Gabrielle Solomon falls, she falls hard. Even if that means literally toppling over a porch railing in nothing but a flimsy towel—right in front of her sexy new neighbor.
Jay Stetson is 100 percent hero material with those arms, that chest, and his deliciously oh-so-sexy smirk. The chiseled hunk in flannel has an irresistible off-limits attitude while plucking Gabrielle out of the bushes and saving her from a snake. Unfortunately, he’s not indulging in what Gabrielle is offering—not with his emotional train wreck of a past.
Just neighbors. Just friends. Or so he says.
Secretly, he’s smitten with the single, fierce mama bear of two who plays Miss Fix-It at the house next door. He doesn’t even really mind the noise or the chaos her young sons cause. What he does mind is how his lonely heart races when looking into her emerald-colored eyes.
Can Jay let his painful memories go, or will he let the woman of his dreams slip between his fingers?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
GABRIELLE
Be careful. You never know which way that pickle’s gonna squirt, Gabs.”
My laughter fills the small kitchen. The sound cuts through the dust particles dancing in the sunlight, adding another layer of magic to the room. As much as my cousin Cricket tries to remain steadfast, the corners of her lips lift.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she says, removing her latex gloves. The rubber squeaks as it slides off her fingertips. “Why do you have to make everything so dirty?”
“Oh, come on. You’re the one talking about phallic-shaped items squirting. You went there. Not me.”
Cricket huffs, her perfect bright-red curls bouncing at her shoulders. “Fine. I’ll put it another, more straightforward way: you can’t always predict the outcome of home improvement projects, Gabby. It may look like a simple drywall patch. But the next thing you know, you find termites and have to call a contractor to rebuild the walls.” She lifts a brow, eyeing me carefully, like her mother, my aunt Diane, used to do when I was a little girl. “Just . . . go slowly. Don’t jump into a bunch of projects at once.”
I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. She’s probably thinking about the grid incident.
“Yes,” she says. “This has everything to do with you single-handedly bringing down the electric grid for half a city block.”
“That’s so unfair. How was I to know you can’t hook outside lights to the main electric line coming into your house? Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, like the point?”
She tosses the gloves into the trash bin. “What about when you hooked water pipes to the drainpipes under the sink in some half-cocked plumbing project?”
“Forgive me for not knowing that not all those pipes . . . piped.”
“Only you, Gabs. Only you.”
“Don’t you have better things to do than catalog all my do-it-yourself adventures?” I ask, putting a hand on my hip.
Cricket laughs. “Yes, actually, I do. But when you choose to call me every time you’re standing next to an emergency vehicle, the EMT tending to the results of your do-it-yourself adventures, it makes them hard to forget.”
“I don’t recall hearing you complain when the fire chief asked if you were single.”
Her cheeks flush as she waves a hand through the air. “Oh, don’t start with that. He only saw me through FaceTime. Besides, the man was nothing short of a baby. His idea of a night out probably came with a curfew.”
I lean against the cabinets and smile, watching her collect what’s left of the cardboard boxes scattered around the room.
Despite travel fatigue, strongly scented cleaning supplies, and a lack of appropriate caffeine levels, it feels good to be home.
Waking up the last two mornings in the small, sleepy town where I grew up has been a balm to my soul. Pine trees scent the air. The sun is brighter—warmer—on my face each morning. Having family and neighbors stop by to say hello has been wonderful.
It’s everything I hoped it would be. Everything I needed it to be.
“There,” Cricket says, surveying our handiwork with satisfaction. “I think that’s the last box. Is there anything else in the garage?”
“Nope. Your micromanaging talents ensured that my new house was cleaned from top to bottom, and all our possessions were put away.”
“In just three days, despite your insistence that it would take at least fourteen.” She rests her hip against the wooden table I’ve had longer than my children. “How does it feel to be settled in and ready for your new life in Alden?”
The sun chooses this moment to peek out from behind the clouds and shine into the kitchen.