The Fudge Ripple Effect

By Nicki Greenwood

Jax Thatcher loves creating stained glass, but love can't pay the bills. After a disastrous relationship, love lands her back in Narragansett with her overbearing parents and a mountain of I-told-you-so's. Broke and brokenhearted, she's forced to abandon her romantic and artistic dreams. Fortunately for Jax, fate is making waves on her behalf.

Sawyer Hennessey, the handsome owner of a generations-old soda fountain, has been burned in love himself. When an accident shatters the stained-glass transom of his shop's front window, Jax splashes into his quiet life.

Suspicious of their growing feelings, Jax and Sawyer can't resist testing the waters. They have a lot to learn about the ripples people make in each other's lives, and how one little drop might lead to an outpouring of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jun 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509231706

Nicki Greenwood

Nicki Greenwood graduated SUNY Morrisville with a degree in Natural Resources, which of course has nothing to do with writing novels. She has also worked in a bakery, an insurance agency, a flower shop, and a doctor's office, which have nothing to do with writing, either. She did spend an awesome two years as an assistant editor for a publisher, and now does freelance editing on the side. Nicki still holds down a day job, which manages to get her out of the house once in a while. She's been writing since 2010 and loving it.Nicki lives in upstate New York with her husband, son, and assorted pets. If you can't find her at her computer, you can always try the local Renaissance Faire.

Book preview

Inc.

Jax held her breath, and not just because Sawyer Hennessey might be the beginning of her future.

He smelled incredible. She couldn’t place it. Cinnamon? Cedar? Vanilla? Did they make a cologne that combined those things in perfect amounts?

He studied her mishmash of hastily prepared photos, his dark hair flashing the barest hints of red under the mellow antique-style shop lights. He could have been an action hero, all big shoulders and broad chest. And his eyes. The color of honey. Suddenly, she understood why bees were crazy about the stuff.

This man worked at an old-fashioned soda fountain that had been part of Narragansett almost since its founding? She’d expected a grizzled old codger, not this…this…

Trouble, Jax. The word you’re looking for is trouble.

Other Books by Nicki Greenwood

EARTH

WATER

AIR

FIRE

THE SERPENT IN THE STONE

FLASHPOINT

HEAVY NETTING

FINDING HOME

The Fudge Ripple Effect

by

Nicki Greenwood

One Scoop or Two

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

The Fudge Ripple Effect

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Nicki Greenwood

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2020

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3170-6

One Scoop or Two

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To Michael,

who knows a thing or two about ice cream

Acknowledgment

Special thanks to Gillian Thompson of Gillian Thompson Glass for her explanation of the artistry that goes into stained glass restoration. Her attention to detail is as impressive as her work, and any errors in this book are entirely my own.

Chapter One

Jacklyn Thatcher blamed it all on the Chihuahua bobbleheads.

They nodded from the dashboard of the taxi with each bump in the road, five ridiculous, decidedly not Chihuahua-colored plastic novelty decorations. The white one in the middle jiggled its red-polka-dotted nose as if it were laughing. They’d made her laugh, the first laugh she’d had since the long flight from Arizona. They’d made her laugh just as she had almost decided to get back on a plane to anywhere else, so she’d changed her mind and stayed in the cab.

Now, as the taxi reached her destination, she realized the joke was on her.

The taxi came to a stop on the circular brick driveway of her family’s stately home, and she exhaled with grim resignation before stepping out. They’d go into fits if they could see her now, mostly because they’d have to see her. That sort of happened when the family disappointment slunk home.

She counted off her sins. One: the first in her family to flout tradition and leave Rhode Island for the great unknown. Lots of backlash for that one. Two: the first to get a primary education in something besides business consulting, the very bread and butter of Thatcher, Inc. No fanfare for that. They didn’t even know, and wouldn’t approve of her creative choice in any case. Three: definitely the first to return, tail between her legs, to an I-told-you-so five years coming.

The taxi driver pulled her two bags from the trunk of the cab then set them by her feet. Will that be all, miss?

Oh, yeah. That’s definitely all, she said, casting a grimace at the white-pillared portico guarding the front door. It had never looked so much like an open mouth waiting to swallow her.

Her parents’ home was stunning. She’d once thought that in owning such a gorgeous house, they’d have an appreciation for beauty, but it seemed to them just another showpiece with which to stage business arrangements.

The driver divided a puzzled look between the elegant façade and her wildly colorful skirt and blouse. She suspected he meant to be subtle, but his brows inched skyward. She didn’t blame him. Against the cool gray siding, white trim, and ferociously manicured lawn, she stood out like a pink flamingo.

She paid the driver with the last of her cash, then he left. She sucked in a breath of the heavy air, with just a whiff of salty ocean breeze, coming off Block Island Sound. It would be a hot, humid, and very judgy summer.

The dark blue door swung open. In the entry stood her brother, wearing khakis, a button-down shirt, and a thunderstruck expression. He was maybe a little taller than she remembered, but with the same neatly-tamed black hair and dark eyes, an older, masculine assembly of her own Thatcher genes. Jax,