by Maddie James
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Blurb:
She wasn't looking for love...
The owner of a successful, sophisticated boutique called Romantically Yours, Gracie Hart's nickname is the 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!
...but it found her anyway!
Review
"...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
Excerpt:
“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. My, he was a tall man. She gulped. He had to be tall for her to look up to him. She was nearly five foot ten, herself. Her mouth and lips went incredibly dry.
Her eyes met the most unbelievable sea-blue eyes she’d ever seen. Finally she felt something touch 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.
“Grace Hart?”
“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.
“Please come in,” she returned politely.
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. Gracie guessed her to be about six or seven years of age. There was a frown on her face as she eyed her father, the doorway still framing her. Slowly, she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin to look at Carson, a small look of defiance on her face. Her right foot repeatedly tapped the floor.
Gracie was not quite sure what to make of the child. She glanced quickly to Carson, who returned a hesitant smile, then to the child.
The little girl’s head held a mass of light brown curls which, if left loose, would most likely tumble halfway down her back, Gracie thought. 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?”
“I’m Iz—”
Carson Price bolted forward. “Isabella,” he returned, grasping the child’s hand.
Gracie stood tall again and looked Carson in the eyes. It was nice looking directly into a man’s eyes and not looking down at him for once. “What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you. Isabella is my daughter. There was no school today. I hope you don’t mind. My babysitter is out of town.”
Gracie shook her head. “Oh, my no. It’s not a problem.”
She dismissed the issue of the child for a moment, then headed for the cash register. “Just give me a second to grab the keys and I’ll take you next door.”
An awkward silence filled the shop as Grace fumbled with the cash register drawer, her thoughts nowhere near where they should be.
Carson Price was not the kind of man she expected. No indeedy. He was much too—
No, she refused to think about it. After all, the man had a child. Most likely there was a wife in the picture somewhere.
Gracie sighed deeply.
With that thought, she retrieved the key from the secret drawer inside the old cash register. Gracie glanced up to see Carson crouched down on eye-level with the child, faint mutterings of conversation going on between father and daughter.
“Ready?” She stepped up behind them and Carson rose quickly to his feet, snatching the ball cap off his Isabella’s head on his ascent. 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 could come to look at the apartment.”
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.
No indeedy.
There was a brief tingle as she brushed passed him and Gracie wondered from just where that tingle sprang. She’d not felt anything like that in—oh, in quite some time. Years, if she cared to admit it.
And she didn’t want to admit it.
She decided right then and there, that renting to Carson Price was probably a bad idea. A very bad idea.
He was much too handsome and much too charismatic for her own good. He had an adorable little child.
And no wife.
Two strikes against Mr. Carson Price.
No. Strikes two, three, and four.
