A Contemporary Romantic Comedy Novel
...heartwarming and tender, this novel will brighten many dreary afternoons in small town America. James shows special talent for traditional romance. Expect more from this author. Affaire de Coeur, 4 stars
Gracie Hart, the owner of a successful, sophisticated boutique called Romantically Yours, is known as the local Diva of Romance. Who could have guessed that having once loved and lost, she has no intention of ever falling in love again, no matter how loudly her biological clock keeps ticking? Until, that is, her new tenants, Carson Price and his six-year-old daughter Izzie, arrive on the scene and proceed to wreak havoc in her life—and her heart!
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This had all the makings of a very bad idea....
“Please let this work out,” she whispered and sent up a small prayer. “I need this to work out.”
Stopping briefly in front of the door, Gracie inhaled deep then exhaled long, twisted the dead-bolt, and opened the door fully. She extended her hand without even really looking. “Mr. Price, I assume?”
Then she did look. Up. And up some more. Her eyes met the most unbelievable sea-blue eyes she’d ever seen. Finally something touched her palm.
“Oh!” She dragged her gaze away from his and glanced downward to her hand, now in his. His hand was warm, his handshake firm.
“Oh, yes.” She looked back into his face. “Yes, I’m Grace Hart. Mr. Price?”
He nodded and she took in more of his features. Dark brown hair, chiseled, high cheekbones, and those eyes....
“Yes,” he answered. He stepped inside and she closed the door behind her, then felt it push open again against her rear.
“Forget something, Dad?”
Carson Price turned and so did Gracie. An imp of a child stood in the doorway, staring past her. The little girl’s head held a mass of light brown curls which, if left loose, would most likely tumble halfway down her back. Oh my, what she would have given, as a young girl, for curls like that. Oddly enough though, this child’s locks were caught up in a dusty, Louisville Cardinals baseball cap, which contrasted sharply with the Sunday-best frill she wore.
Gracie bent slightly to look the girl more closely in the face. “Well,” she finally said, pushing out her hand, “I’m Grace. What’s your name?”
Carson Price bolted forward. “Isabella,” he returned, grasping the child’s hand. “Ready?” He snatched the ball cap off his Isabella’s head. Gracie registered a sharp glance of annoyance from the child and the stern, warning stare back from the parent as he quickly stuffed the ball cap into the back pocket of his khaki pants. “We’ll take a look at the shop first, then the apartment,” she continued.
“That’s fine,” Carson Price replied.
“Unless, of course, you’d rather wait until your wife.”
He shook his head. “No wife, just us.”
Gracie nodded. “Oh. Well, right this way then.” She extended a hand toward the front door.
Carson Price led the way, daughter in tow, and Gracie found herself watching those nicely fitting khaki’s from the rear until he opened the door and held it for her to pass through.
No wife. This wasn’t a good sign.
She decided right then and there, that renting to Carson Price was a bad idea.
A very bad idea.