He’s damaged goods. Sure chaos. Mr. Impossible.
So why am I risking it all for one more kiss"
I never knew what hit me.
Rex stormed into my little world with two adorable twin boys and no apologies.
Bearish. Short-fused. Consuming. Huge.
Did I mention HUGE"
He’s instant trouble the second he checks into our lodge and my overprotective grandpa hires him.
Then I catch him staring with that knowing ache in his eyes.
I forget what trouble even means.
He also needs a nanny. Sold.
My signature cupcakes aren’t the sweetest thing in this small town anymore.
Not when his cold shoulder thaws.
Not when our nights unravel me.
Not when every taste of him overrules the thousand reasons we shouldn’t.
But tarnished hearts and prowling kisses have limits.
The closer we get, the harder he pulls away.
Rex won’t reveal why he’s really here.
I can’t admit how bad I wish it didn’t matter.
Of course, the chilling truth always strikes. Without mercy.
There’s heartbreak written in our stars.
Then there’s the crazy part of me that believes he’s man enough to stand, to fight, to stay.
Crazy, I said. Or is it"
From Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow – heart, heat, and tears. Plus one unbelievably alpha single dad who’ll stop at nothing to make her complete. Full length stand alone romance novel with a hard fought Happily Ever After.Books by Author:Nicole Snow Books
Cupcakes for Room 205 (Tabby)
They say a woman knows it’s obvious when she’s found the one.
Prince Charming isn’t subtle.
She remembers every first with Mr. Right. Every second, third, and fourth.
Every beat of her own enchanted heart.
His face, his smell, the mischief dancing in his eyes that makes her all tingly and weak-kneed looking back on their wedding day, and then again many years later through the fog of love.
The lyrical cadence of his voice etches on her brain forever. His first kiss " the one that has to happen with storybook perfection " leaves the heart drumming on infinity shuffle, an echo of sweet nostalgia in her blood.
When I first saw Rex Osborne, there was none of that.
Just the roar of his old truck pulling into our lot. Two doors slamming shut. A half-second glance at him from behind while I hoisted the snow-packed shovel over my shoulder.
Another second spent staring harder. Maybe I thought his shoulders looked a little out of place in this small town.
Too big. Too broad. Too tall. Too heavy.
Too much urgency in his step.
Too much man for Split Harbor, and for me.
I heard two distant little voices at his feet, murmuring the happy nothings children do. Then the three of them disappeared inside the lodge.
It lasted all of three seconds before I tucked my head down and went back to work, scraping snow off the path. I only stopped for one more thing.
A growl rumbled in the sky, almost like thunder, totally out of place in frozen dead February.
I still don’t know if I imagined it.
But I didn’t imagine him.
I didn’t know I’d met the man who’d ruin imagining for good, who’d tear what I thought I knew to pieces, who’d dynamite my heart, and who’d ground himself in my life’s smoking crater.
Rex taught me so many things and showed me many more. Like what’s real, what’s undeniable, what’s worth every shred of passion in two fiery souls.
Rex taught me how to live. How to love. How to hurt.
And then Rex set me free.
I tuck the shovel into the corner of the porch railings right next to the bucket of rock salt I"ll need again first thing in the morning. So far we’ve only gotten a light dusting of snow, but more is predicted.
No surprises. It"s winter. In Michigan.
My cheeks puff as I hold in the heavy sigh burning my lungs, wanting out. It is what it is. This is my home. My livelihood. My future.
I need to be thankful for that. All of it. And I need to be satisfied, too.
I owe Gramps big time. If not for him, Lord knows where I"d be right now. Rather than living in a lodge where people pay good money to rest, relax, and enjoy life, I might’ve ended up in a foster home.
Shaking off the melancholy that’s been weighing heavier and heavier lately, I push open the employee entrance and remove my boots, coat, hat and mittens before sitting down on the bench to change into tennis shoes.
It’ll be better when Russ returns, I tell myself. Who"d have guessed a guy could break an ankle so bad he"d need two surgeries by just stepping wrong off a ladder"
One less pair of strong hands. Which also means I"ll be shoveling a whole lot more yet this winter.
"Break time"s over."
I glance up and crack a smile at my grandfather"s words. "Break time""
The wrinkles around his twinkling blue eyes increase as he chuckles while walking down the narrow hallway. "I"ve been looking to hire someone to take over Russ" duties, but ""
I laugh, interrupting him. "Everyone knows you too well, Gramps. Most who’ve worked for you before aren"t willing to do it again."
"Only the lazy ones."
"So, everyone in Northern Michigan"" I can’t resist poking fun at my Gramps’ impossible standards.
He scowls at me, which only makes me laugh harder. Pushing off the bench, I step closer to him and pat his upper arm. The softness my hand encounters reminds me he"s not as big and strong as he once was.
He"s run the Grand Pine Lodge for over fifty years. He’ll continue until his old heart stops beating. And I"ll be right beside him. Probably after, too. This lodge has been in our family since the first building sprung up over a hundred years ago.
Like it or not, I know my destiny. My place. Some days, it’s just harder to accept than others.
"I don"t mind shoveling the sidewalks. Never have and never will," I tell him. Truth be told, it"s partly my fault that Russ broke his ankle. Fixing up the stables was my idea. A way to expand the services we offer, and hopefully increase occupancy and revenue. "Wes Owens will still plow. Just as long as Russ comes back by spring so we don"t have to hire lawn care, we"ll be fine."