Easy Peasy

By Stephanie J Grace

Myra’s childhood in a prepper bunker facilitated her self-sufficiency, but at twenty-four, she’s tired of being a lone mitten. With her business keeping her busy, she’s not sure when she’ll find Mr. Right, but hopes he likes long walks in the park and princess movies.

Oakes Willowbee, just starting his prepping, needs all the help he can get. Former military and in over his head, he’s trying to get his life in order to be ready for a worldwide catastrophe, but he’s having a hard time getting past sheep. With Myra’s help, Oakes gets a taste of prepper life, but his fascination with preparedness might kill their budding relationship.

Despite the attraction between them, finding a balance between living and surviving could be anything but easy peasy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: May 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781613335345

Stephanie J Grace

Stephanie J Grace is the sweeter and more faith-based side of romance writer Stephanie Beck. With a genuine love for romance and building relationships, Stephanie found the sweeter side of her writing needed its own world to grow and that happens through Stephanie J Grace. With a growing family and growing writing career, Steph stays busy running around in real life and in her imagination, but between the sprints, she enjoys reading, knitting and crafting.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Easy Peasy

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Stephanie J. Grace

ISBN: 978-1-61333-534-5

Cover art by Tibbs Design

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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Easy Peasy

A Prepper Romance

By

Stephanie J. Grace

~DEDICATION~

For my parents.

Chapter One

Myra pulled open the front door of the local Lutheran church, also known as her storage unit, and smiled when the familiar scent of cinnamon air freshener greeted her. Music announced the ending of the final service as she passed the sanctuary. She’d sat through first service bright and early but had forgotten to stop at her storage closet. If she wanted to sell mittens Monday, she needed them stocked in her shop.

She hurried past the ushers and down a long hall. Once upon a time, the area had been used for a small school but had become heated storage after fire code restrictions changed. That was how she’d started at the lovely little place, just a girl in desperate need of a place to stow wool. From there she’d started attending, started learning, and started living.

She unlocked the unit door and flipped on the light. Some of the rooms were little more than closets, but she’d rented an old preschool room. She kept larger stock items on huge custom shelves, courtesy of her father. The scents of wool and cotton renewed her excitement for her projects as she headed for the tote section. She checked her accounting board and quickly found mittens. It only took a stepladder and her knitting- and weaving-enhanced upper-body strength to pull out half a dozen sets of tufted mittens.

Pulling out projects always made her nostalgic. She remembered when she’d made these. The blue and white variegated yarn graced her needles just after Christmas the year before. She’d caught a week of Christmas movies on one of the cartoon channels she liked so much. A snowstorm hit, so she closed the shop and went hermit—knitting up a storm, watching movies, and eating junk. She ran her hands over the mittens. Good times.

Myra tucked everything back in place and put the mittens in her side bag. With winter on its way, people in the shop were thinking snow. That meant more hats and mittens. She bent low to make sure the vents were clear. She’d misplaced a box last time and the room’s temperature had skyrocketed with the hot summer sun beating down.

A mitten fell from her bag to the floor. She sighed at the sad picture it presented. A lone mitten, solo on the floor. Sure, it was warm and self-contained. It didn’t need the other mitten to increase its mitten-ness. Yet, when presented with the other, it served so many more functions.

She tucked it back into her bag. Living the life of a lone mitten after breaking away from her super close family had been a challenge, but she was glad she’d done it and enjoyed the fruits of her labors. Still, she wanted to find the leftie to her righty. She’d always felt she had all the time in the world to find someone special, but the prospect of facing another winter barricaded into her apartment with knitting, accompanied only by fictitious love stories…she was ready for more.

Maybe she’d ask her friend Brenda to arrange a date. In addition to being a great friend, Brenda also ran the church’s small office and knew everyone in Carson City. She’d have to have a few ideas of young men who might be interested in a slightly introverted, socially awkward fiber shop owner who liked princess movies and baked really good cookies.

Myra, I’m so glad you’re still here. Pastor Jacobs flagged her down from the office doors. I have a guy here who I promised I’d introduce to you. Do you have a minute?

She’d planned on going home and eating lunch, maybe reading a book, but she didn’t mind stopping for Pastor Jacobs. He’d been most kind and sensitive, especially after she’d explained her upbringing as being…different.

Sure, what can I help you with? she asked.

This is Oakes Willowbee. Oakes, this is the Myra I told you about. If you’re looking for a true fiber artist—and I am heavy on the artist there—she’s the one you want to work with. Myra, this is one of my friends. He’s new to the area, but we’ve been in contact for the last year. He’s former military and is looking for linen and a few other things. Oakes, if you can’t get it from her shop, you don’t need it.

His kind words fell on deaf ears. The guy standing beside her short, scholarly pastor looked straight from the gym, or somewhere else equally equipped to help maintain muscle mass. He embodied his name—the big oaks on her parents’ land had nothing on the man who smiled at her.

Hi. She set the bag aside and held out her hand, glad it didn’t tremble. I’m Myra. What can I help you with?

Pastor Jacobs hurried away when called, nodding briefly before leaving her all alone with the rather studmuffinly fellow. Not really alone. A few people milled about, but still, he had her full attention.

I’m, ah, now I feel bad for catching you here. I bet it’s your day off, he said, a red flush rising from his neck to his cheeks.

Really, in my field I don’t take days off. Even days the store is closed I’m still working. She didn’t want to make him feel bad or embarrassed. Plans changed. She could handle that.

Could I make an appointment? he asked, shifting from foot to foot in a way that didn’t suit him or the way he held himself.

Of course, but since you’re here, you might as well let me know what you’re looking for. Come on into the Fellowship Hall and we can chat over coffee. I told Brenda I’d tidy up for her, and Pastor Jacobs always stays late, so I don’t think he’ll mind if we stay.

Coffee sounds great.

Oakes couldn’t believe he was tripping over himself like an immature kid. However, when Anthony Jacobs mentioned knowing someone with fibers experience, he’d pictured some little old lady or a mercenary guy with contacts, like the rest of the people that ran in their prepper group. An adorable young woman with dimples and a head full of shiny brown ringlets never entered his mind, but when she’d smiled at him, his thoughts scattered to make room for her.

Myra.

Old-lady name, but as he followed her, he couldn’t help but notice her perky backside. The last six months had been heavy with paperwork and planning. Doing things, even minor, busy work felt damn good. He would have preferred to do these tasks from the comfort of the homestead he’d purchased in northern Nevada, but the town seemed nice enough so far. Myra was sure as hell a nice surprise.

Are you new to the area? she asked, helping herself to coffee.

She offered him a cup. He’d cut prepared coffee from his diet, but his mom and the military had trained any thoughts of being rude out of him. He took the cup and a pastry and sat at one of the open tables.

The congregation had already thinned, probably either on their way home or to lunch. Growing up, he’d attended a church much like this one but hadn’t visited in years. He took a sip of the strong, hot brew. Maybe he’d have to visit again for the coffee.

So, new here? Myra asked and he realized he’d blown off her earlier question.

Sorry, yes. I am. I’m originally from Maine. I spent some time in the military, and now I’m here.

And prepping?

He tried for