Hooked

By Melinda De Ross

A summer vacation, an inherited house, a sexy neighbor. Should be the formula for the perfect summer... Right?

When Marissa Nelson learns that she’s inherited a house from her great aunt in the small coastal town of Florence, Oregon, she’s more exasperated than excited. As a city life lover, she’d never considered living in a small town.
Planning to sell the house, she goes there to spend her vacation and figure out what the house is worth. What she doesn’t anticipate is that the house is half of a duplex, and the neighbor next door is a mouthwatering single dad. If Dylan doesn’t steal her heart, his son, Nate, surely will.
After two weeks spent with them, Marissa doesn’t look forward to returning to her old life, but vacation has to end sometime... or does it?

Lovestruck is a compilation of romantic comedies that can be read in any order as stand-alones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melinda De Ross
• Release date: Jun 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005793890

Melinda De Ross

Melinda De Ross is a USA Today bestselling author of multi-genre fiction novels. A prolific writer, she weaves humorous romance and tension-filled thrillers with the same enthusiasm. While she's a law graduate and professional target shooter, she prefers to spend her days spinning tales for her readers. In her downtime, she'd rather read or watch a classic movie than go to a noisy club. She loves to hear from readers, so if you have a question or want to learn more about her books, visit her website: MelindaDeRoss.com

Book preview

HOOKED

Melinda De Ross

HOOKED

Copyright © 2021 Melinda De Ross

Edited by Susanne Matthews

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Chapter One

I was going to spend my summer in Florence. Not the cosmopolitan city of Florence, Italy, but small town Florence, Oregon. I hadn’t even heard of it until last week, when I received a notice that my great aunt Marnie had died and left me her house. Just like that. I had met her only once in my life when I was three, and here I was, twenty-two years-later, her only heir.

I, Marissa Nelson, an heiress!

I snorted as I drove on Route 101, the July sun glaring through my sunglasses. I had been driving for nine long hours—plus an hour to eat and stretch. My boss had said I was crazy driving there instead of flying, but she didn’t understand I loved driving. Of course, Dr. Kate Klein didn’t understand many things about me, like why I hadn’t taken a vacation in three years and preferred spending time at the hospital taking care of broken-hearted patients. Literally, since I was a cardiology nurse. I suppose I felt no one took better care of people than I did, which was a gross misconception. Nonetheless, Dr. Klein had ordered me to take my well-deserved paid vacation asap. Coincidentally—or not—it was the same day the lawyer called me to inform me of my great aunt’s demise and made the astonishing announcement regarding my sudden inheritance.

Don’t get me wrong, I was pleased by the news. I mean, who wouldn’t want to receive a house out of the blue? But there was no way I could give up my exciting life in San Francisco to move to a small town, even if the house had an ocean view, according to the lawyer. The only thing I could do was sell it. Hopefully, with the money from the sale, I could replace my small rented apartment with an even smaller condo. Owning was better than renting, for sure.

I had a strange impulse to go see the house before I put it on the market. After all, I had no plans for the two weeks Dr. Klein had virtually banned me from the hospital. Why not take advantage and try to have a real holiday for a change? Summer, ocean, an empty house all of my own… It was bound to be fun.

As a general rule I was addicted to city life, to noise, crowds, work pressure, and excitement. But on rare occasions, it all became overwhelming. It was almost impossible to find one moment of perfect silence—no phone ringing, no constant hospital chatter and machine noises, no traffic sounds, even at the latest of hours. This inheritance/vacation thing could be a Godsend.

I smiled and lowered my window as I drove into the city on the heavily-forested road, deeply inhaling the fresh air. It was hot and humid. The sun dipped low in the sky, giving way to dusk and holding the promise of a cool night. Driving my red convertible Mini Cooper along the narrow streets bordered by houses and small shops, I followed the GPS, turning whenever required to. As I approached the destination showing as a dot on the GPS screen, I could taste the refreshing saltiness in the air.

The neighborhoods here were newer, ritzier, and you could see a lot of them were vacation homes, inns, or summer rentals. Beyond them, the ocean played peek-a-boo with the road, making me gasp in delight. I drove on for a bit until the GPS announced I had reached my destination. I slowed and looked at the row of neat, white houses, then frowned and reached for my phone to double-check the address. Yep, this was it. But the lawyer hadn’t mentioned the house was in fact half of a semi-detached home.

So much for my quiet holiday in the secluded beach house I had pictured. I might as well be sharing a house with God knows who. Though there was no one around now, an image flashed through my mind of a herd of screaming kids chasing each other on the well-kept front lawn, unmindful of any rules of privacy or sound barriers. Not that I didn’t like kids, but it was more the kind of admiration one has for animals at the zoo—brief and from a distance.

Or it could be worse: the neighbors could be a couple of elderly people who couldn’t stand if the TV volume were higher than two and would come over every time they saw me outside to nose around and chat.

Frigging great.

Totally deflated, I pulled the Mini into my driveway, then got out of the car to look around. The two-story house was less than ten years old, with a ground-level entry and two bedrooms on the top floor. There was more concrete than grass in front of it, and the advertised ocean-view was nowhere in sight. Perhaps if I climbed on the