Independence Dave: Loving the Holidays, #3

By Rose Bak

They both believe it's too late for love, but is it?

 

Now that she's in her fifties, Stacy Roberts has given up on love.  She's been divorced for ten years, her kids are all grown up, and dating seems like too much work.  She's ready to just enjoy her life and do precisely what she wants, as soon as she gets through her daughter's wedding…

 

Dave Harkin has just retired from the military.  After years of being separated from his kids, he's looking forward to reconnecting with them and transitioning into a quiet civilian life, starting with attending his son's wedding. Thirty years in the military has made him accustomed to order and discipline, so when the mother of the bride comes crashing into him, he doesn't know what hit him.

 

Stacy thrives on chaos and Dave loves structure. On paper, they shouldn't work. But with an attraction this strong can they meet in the middle to find love?   

 

"Independence Dave" is book three in the "Loving the Holidays" series, contemporary romantic comedies featuring couples in their forties and fifties. Expect strong men, independent women who know their own minds,  meddling friends and families intent on matchmaking, and lots of steam.  Each book in the series is a standalone with a happily ever after.  Buy yours today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Bak
• Release date: Sep 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201402303

Rose Bak

Rose Bak has been obsessed with books since she got her first library card at age five. She is a passionate reader with an e-reader bursting with thousands of beloved books.  Rose's contemporary romance books focus on strong female characters over age 35 and the alpha males who love them. Expect a lot of steam, a little bit of snark, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Book preview

About This Book

They both believe it’s too late for love, but is it?

Now that she’s in her fifties, Stacy Roberts has given up on love.  She’s been divorced for ten years, her kids are all grown up, and dating seems like too much work.  She’s ready to just enjoy her life and do precisely what she wants, as soon as she gets through her daughter’s wedding...

Dave Harkin has just retired from the military.  After years of being separated from his kids, he’s looking forward to reconnecting with them and transitioning into a quiet civilian life, starting with attending his son’s wedding. Thirty years in the military has made him accustomed to order and discipline, so when the mother of the bride comes crashing into him, he doesn’t know what hit him.

Stacy thrives on chaos and Dave loves structure. On paper, they shouldn’t work. But with an attraction this strong can they meet in the middle to find love?   

Independence Dave is book three in the Loving the Holidays series, contemporary romantic comedies featuring couples in their forties and fifties. Expect strong men, independent women who know their own minds,  meddling friends, and families intent on matchmaking, and lots of steam.  Each book in the series is a standalone with a happily ever after.  Buy yours today!

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This book includes a special except from Until You Came Along,  book one of the Oliver Boys Band series, available now from all major online retailers.

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Dedication

For every woman over forty who thinks looking for love just isn’t worth the trouble.

Stacy

Mom!  I forgot the check for the minister!

I looked up at my daughter’s frantic face and tried not to roll my eyes.  What was it about a wedding that made even the calmest young woman turn into bridezilla?  My daughter hadn’t been this histrionic and annoying since she was fourteen.

Susie waved a hotel key card at me.  Can you grab it from our room please Mom?  The minister wants to talk to me and Kurt before he starts the rehearsal and he’s on a tight schedule.

Can’t you go? I asked, having no desire to rifle through her things and potentially coming back empty-handed.

We’re starting the meeting part now.  Please Mom! I need your help, I’m busy here.

I sighed. Do you know where it is in your room?

It’s a cashier’s check in a white envelope.  I think it’s on the desk.  Or maybe in my suitcase.  Or possibly in my blue laptop bag.  Definitely one of those places.

This time I did roll my eyes, but Susie had already flounced off to confer with her fiancé and the minister at the other side of the ballroom.  She assumed I would take care of it, and I was going to confirm that assumption I guess.

I reminded myself for the thousandth time that once this damn wedding was over, I was going to start focusing on myself for once.  I had one super needy kid and soon she was going to be her husband’s problem.  It was time to cut the apron strings, just like my best friend had been telling me for several years now.

The wedding was taking place in a beautiful lodge in central Oregon, and the décor here was the perfect mix of rustic log cabin and simple luxury.  Taking off at a fast clip,  I exited the ballroom and headed around the corner towards the lobby where I could access the elevators for the hotel rooms.

There wasn’t a rush since they didn’t really need me for the rehearsal anyway – as mother of the bride I just had to sit there and smile— but I really only had two speeds:  fast and stop.  After over twenty-five years of working in the Emergency Room at Portland’s busiest trauma hospital,  I didn’t really know how to walk slow.  There was always another patient, always another code, always another crying child waiting.  When you were in a business where seconds could mean the difference between life and death, you quickly learned not to lollygag.

The good news was that my fast walking pace and tendency to always be rushing about helped keep my metabolism high and my weight under control even while most women my age had long ago succumbed to the middle age spread.  I often registered ten miles in steps on my fitness tracking watch after a busy shift.  My love of junk food kept me curvy but my job kept me fit, and I was OK with that.

I took the corner towards the lobby too tight and crashed into someone coming from the other direction. Someone big and solid who was also moving quickly.  We hit each other with a loud thump,  and I felt myself go flying backwards with a squeak.  I shifted my weight and windmilled my arms, but it wasn’t enough to stop my backwards trajectory. 

I landed on my ass with a gasp.  At least you hit the most cushioned part of your body, I thought wryly.  And the floor was carpeted, that was nice.  A tile floor would have really hurt.

What the hell are you doing, lady?

I looked up to see what I had hit.  Or who I had hit, rather.  My eyes took in the obviously annoyed man on the floor across from me.  He looked like he was in his early to mid-50s.  He had dark brown hair shot through with streaks of silver, and patches of almost all silver over his temples, all cut military short.  He was clean shaven, with just a hint of stubble, and there were fine wrinkles at the corners of his startlingly blue eyes.

With a nurse’s eye I categorized thick biceps and a broad chest that hinted at a high fitness level even through his light blue button-down shirt.  Honestly he was built like a brick wall.  And I’d loved guys built like brick walls, ever since I dated a linebacker in high school.

I couldn’t believe I’d hit hard enough to knock him down, but then again we had both the element of surprise and some good momentum going.

The guy would be handsome if he wasn’t glaring at me.  My best friend Ellie would definitely call this one a silver fox.  But then again, she read romance books and I read medical journals, so I was a bit more practical than she was.

I scrambled to my feet quickly, but the brick wall guy stayed on the floor, watching me with a look that screamed irritation. 

You need to watch where you’re going! he grumbled as he slowly came to standing with a grace that belied his bulky frame.  There was a large pea-green military-style duffle on the floor at his feet.

I could say the same to you, buddy.

You ran into me, he barked in annoyance.  And knocked me over!

The nerve of this guy, getting so upset about a stupid accident and making it sound like he wasn’t also racing around the corner without looking where he was going, the same as me.  Why were the handsome guys always the jerks?

No,  YOU ran into me and knocked ME over.  And we’re both fine, so lose the attitude. It’s not like you broke a hip there, grandpa.

His eyes flared with surprise and annoyance.  Somehow I had a feeling that he wasn’t used to people standing up to him.  I would have loved seeing what else I could do to surprise him, but I didn’t have time to spend talking to some jerk I would never see again.  I had a wedding to save.  Again. 

I had a feeling that it was going to be a long weekend. I wondered if Susie had any alcohol stashed in her room.  I could use a shot of something strong after dealing with my daughter’s mood swings all week.

As I walked away I could swear I felt the guy’s gaze on me.  I resisted the temptation to look over my shoulder to check to see if he was really checking me out.  My ego couldn’t take any more judgmental males today.  I was already feeling old with my only daughter getting married.

I guess by some people’s standards I was old.  I’d passed fifty a couple of years ago and resigned myself to being alone.  My friend Steve had really been pushing me to think about dating again and I wasn’t opposed to it, but honestly at my age it felt like too much work.  The fifty-year-old guys were dating the thirty-year-old girls and I wasn’t about to hook up with some seventy-year-old looking for a nurse maid.  I already nursed people in my day job, I didn’t need to do it at home too.

I had one goal: get through this wedding without killing my daughter, and then enjoy my solitary drama-free life where I got to do whatever I wanted.  Once my kid was married, it was Stacy time.

Dave

I watched the woman race off like she had the lead position in a power walking competition.  I couldn’t remember the last time I saw a woman walking with so much purpose, at least outside of the eager young recruits I’d been training in the Army for the last few years. But for the most part, those women were in their twenties.

This woman was different.  It was hard to tell but I guessed she was close to my own age of fifty-three.  I was used to older women strolling along like every step was an effort.

Not that I usually came into contact with a lot of older women.  More and more women were joining the military the last twenty years, but it was pretty rare for them to say into middle age. Now that I was retired from the  military and re-entering civilian life for the first time in thirty years, I supposed I would naturally come into contact with a wider variety of people, especially women.

Maybe I’ll find someone to spend my life with.   The thought came unbidden.  The desire to have a normal life was a new one to me, brought on by my recent health scare, but it didn’t make me as nervous as it used to.  But before I thought about any of that, I needed to complete my