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Life Next Door (Love Not Included #2)
by: J.D. Hollyfield
Publication Date : November 3, 2014
There is only one thing in life that professional pastry Chef Priscilla Westcott values more than baking and wine, and that’s honesty. A quality she soon learns that her marriage lacks when her husband runs off with their next door neighbor.
Divorced and alone, Priscilla is determined to make changes in her life. She decides to approach her new goals like one of her beloved recipes. Surely with a little time, a dash of patience, and measured planning she can whip herself—and her life—back into shape.
However, when a new—and utterly delicious—neighbor takes up residence in the house that ruined her marriage, Pricilla fears that her careful world will fold faster than a deflated soufflé.
Trent Walker knows what he wants and his sweet, sassy neighbor is at the top of the list. He’s certain that the chemistry between them would be explosive, but Priscilla fears that an affair with him, however hot, could be a recipe for disaster.
Life Next Door
Life in a Rut, Love Not Included
Where my normally Saturday paper awaits me I see it is gone. What the shit? I look for it, and see it’s jammed in the front bushes that lay again the porch wall.
“Seriously this new paper boy needs a lesson in straight shooting.” I grumble while I bend over digging through the bush to grab the paper.
“Doing some early morning gardening?” There is this voice that comes from behind me. One that I unfortunately connect with Mr. WTF is he doing out right now!? I am frozen with my head in a bush. I register all the options I have right now, and all of them consist of me straitening and turning around. In my robe. Damn you world.
“Um no just looking for something. Thought I saw a cat. No worries here.” I ramble into the bushes. Please go away. Please go away.
His voice seems a bit closer, which does not sit well for my self-esteem right now. I mean I personally think my robe is dope but to be caught in it by this guy, I’m starting to wish I ditched Pinkie Pie pony when I was fourteen.
“Want some help?” I hear from behind me.
“Nope. All good!” I sound a bit panicked. He needs to beat it and like right now. My back is starting to cramp and my legs are about to give in and send me tumbling face first into the greens. I’m not even sure why he is being so normal with me. I’m pretty sure I was not very nice to him less than twelve hours ago. That smooth voice steps even closer. “Well why don’t you let me take a look. I’m pretty talented in digging through a good bush to get to the prize.” Oh hell no he did not just innuendo me! Digging through my bush. Dream on pal, I stand straight and whip around to face him and holy shit.
“Holy shit.” I let spill out of my mouth. Pretty much around the same time he jumps back and spits out, “Holy Jesus.”
“Jesus is right! Do you ever wear a shirt?” I ask like seeing his budging biceps is an insult to my drooling eyes. “Yes, I do but when I’m running and sweating it tends to be pointless.” He steps closer to me and I swallow my tongue. Anything else I was going to bark out stops completely and his close proximity shuts it down. Why is this guy having such a dizzying effect on me?
“So…” He begins with that purr to his tone. Seriously a purr? Who purrs while they talk?! “Do you always walk around in a kid’s robe and all that green gook covering your face?”
Insert jaw drop and gasp.
There is nothing like forgetting, while having a stare down, two feet from your too hot for his own good neighbor, that you are wearing a god damn seaweed mask. Die cruel world.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J.D. Hollyfield is a creative designer and first-time author. When she’s not cooking, event planning, or playing around with her husband, son and three doxies, she’s relaxing with her nose in a book. With her love for romance, and her head full of book boyfriends, she was inspired to test her creative abilities and bring her own story to life. Life in a Rut, Love not Included is her first novel. Hollyfield lives in the Midwest, and is currently at work on her second book.
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