Just for Nice

By H.M. Shepherd

Nick Caratelli flees the city in an attempt to escape a broken relationship and a career he never wanted. He plans to set up a bed-and-breakfast in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country—despite the fact he has no experience in renovating the old building. Luckily his handsome neighbor Sam approaches him with a curious proposal: he’ll help with the restoration in exchange for Nick babysitting his niece.

As they work to have the bed-and-breakfast open for business by summer’s end, their lives become interwoven without them even trying. Before he knows it, Nick is recovering from his loss and taking his place in the unconventional family that seems determined to form. But for Nick and Sam to be together in all the ways they desire, they’ll have to realize all the arguments against romance exist only in their heads….

States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Feb 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640801295

Book preview

Table of Contents

Blurb

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

NOVEMBER

About the Author

By H. M. Shepherd

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright

Just for Nice

By H. M. Shepherd

Nick Caratelli flees the city in an attempt to escape a broken relationship and a career he never wanted. He plans to set up a bed-and-breakfast in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country—despite the fact he has no experience in renovating the old building. Luckily his handsome neighbor Sam approaches him with a curious proposal: he’ll help with the restoration in exchange for Nick babysitting his niece.

As they work to have the bed-and-breakfast open for business by summer’s end, their lives become interwoven without them even trying. Before he knows it, Nick is recovering from his loss and taking his place in the unconventional family that seems determined to form. But for Nick and Sam to be together in all the ways they desire, they’ll have to realize all the arguments against romance exist only in their heads….

States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.

JUNE

THE NIGHT Nick’s fiancée took off her ring and pressed it into the palm of his hand with a whispered apology, he climbed into his car and began to drive without taking any particular note of where he was going, aside from the general direction of west. Somehow he had ended up on Route 30 between Lancaster and York counties, and crossed the Susquehanna just as the sun was rising behind him. The serenity and the silence that clung to the farmland around him was intoxicating, and in that instant, he made the decision to move.

The process of doing so had been quite a bit more complicated, and the time he spent selling his rowhome and looking for a farmhouse in the more affordable Berks County had put his mind at ease as to whether or not the choice was made too hastily. But as he glared through the bedroom window of the caretaker’s cottage at the house across the street, he wondered if that tranquil moment over the river had been a trick, something to fool city folk into emptying their bank accounts to buy charming homes and spend half their lives renovating them. If he had known stupid teenagers and their stupid all-night house parties existed here too, maybe he would have changed his mind and stayed put. At least the college students who had lived next door to his rowhome had had the decency to eventually settle into a mostly quiet, pot-induced stupor.

Fesond Run Police, nonemergency line. How can I assist you?

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Yeah, uh, I’d like to make a noise complaint?

This was it. He was officially going to be the old man yelling at the kids to get out of his yard. A pang of guilt stuck him momentarily, but it was immediately erased as the bass dropped on the horrifyingly loud dubstep blaring through the open windows.

It took about twenty minutes for a single police cruiser to arrive, but the instant the blue and red lights started flashing, the music stopped and the sounds of panicked teens racing away began. One of them made it across the street and ran past Nick’s bedroom window, casting a shadow on the wall. Nick barely noticed; by then he had crawled back into bed, with the blanket pulled up to cover his eyes, and was finally, mercifully asleep.

THE NEXT morning (or, truthfully, that same morning), Nick woke up at 7:00 a.m. as usual. It was a habit he found himself unable to break, even though it had been weeks since he’d needed to be anywhere other than his own home. He contemplated staying in bed and willing himself to get at least a couple more hours, but it was futile. In a few minutes, he was up, dressed, and staring ruefully at the growing tumble of untidy black curls on his head while he brushed his teeth at the bathroom mirror. He promised himself for the tenth time that week that he’d find somewhere to get a haircut.

Without bothering to lock the front door, he left the caretaker’s cottage and walked up the broken flagstone path to the big house. Across the street, he saw his neighbor—Sam, if he remembered correctly from their first quick introduction. He was standing at the edge of his own yard, his arms crossed as he spoke to a young girl, who Nick surmised was his daughter. She looked sullen, as though she was being scolded. Next to them was a stack of clear trash bags full of red cups. For all his internal whining about his four hours of sleep, Nick wondered if she had been cleaning since the cops busted up her party and hadn’t slept at all.

He fished the key to the front door out of his pocket, slipped it in, and winced at the creaking hinges. He added WD-40 to the long-running mental list of things he had to buy on his next hardware store run. After a moment’s consideration, he left the door wide open; he was planning to paint that day and couldn’t stand the smell. He set a mug of coffee to brew in the kitchen and went through every empty room, throwing open each window. The smell of sawdust and primer still hung thick in the air and refused to vent, but at least he could pretend he was doing something productive.

He returned to the living room and had just popped off the lid of a paint can with the screwdriver when he heard someone knock at the open front door. He replaced the lid without securing it and walked briskly into the center hall to find Sam and the teenage girl standing at the threshold. Good morning?

’Morning. I came by to apologize for my niece’s behavior last night, Sam said, cutting straight to the point. I’d have her do it herself, but she doesn’t seem to think that any of this is her responsibility.

It’s not! the