Hoppy Easter in a Small Town: A Year of Love in a Small Town, #4

By Tawdra Kandle

Come back to Burton, and fall in love in a small town all year long . . .

Eleven holiday-themed, stand-alone romances that take place in Burton, Georgia, the small town that's big on romance!

Grace

I learned the hard way never to trust men. The guy I thought I loved turned out to be married to someone else--which I learned only after I found out I was pregnant with his baby. Now, I'm on my own, working as a waitress in a small town . . . and trying not to fall in love with the guy who comes in for breakfast every day. Spencer's not my type at all--he's serious, smart, and kind of shy. But the way he looks at me makes me wish I could be his.

Spencer

When I took a job at a small-town Georgia law firm, I never expected to fall in love with the pregnant waitress at the diner where I eat every morning. But here I am, finding excuses to linger at the table and wishing the baby she's carrying was mine . . .

A Year of Love in a Small Town is a grouping of stand-alone, small-town steamy romances. While the books all take place in Burton, the setting of the Love in a Small Town series, they can be read without having enjoyed the other series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tawdra Kandle Romance
• Release date: Dec 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201540401

Tawdra Kandle

Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books run from YA paranormal romance through NA paranormal and contemporary romance to adult contemporary and paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair.

Book preview

1

Grace

Like the song says, I met him on a Monday . . .

It really was a Monday. The first weekday of my second full week on the job as a waitress at Kenny’s Diner is quaint downtown Burton, Georgia.

Did my heart stand still? No, not really, but it might have skipped a beat or two when I caught sight of the man sitting in the booth—one of my booths, to be exact—studying his laminated menu like he was about to take a final exam on it. He was so different from the other customers I’d met so far. He wasn’t a farmer, that was for sure. He wasn’t wearing jeans or overalls—yes, some of our local farmers really do wear overalls still—and he didn’t have on coveralls streaked with grease like the fellows who wandered over from Boomer’s Auto Repair.

No, this man wore a suit, complete with a crisp white long-sleeved shirt and a dark maroon tie that had some sort of squiggly lines all over it. He’d taken off his suit jacket and hung it on a wooden hanger which he’d hooked on the railing behind his seat.

But it wasn’t the clothes that got me. It was the whole package. His dark hair was carefully combed, but there was a slight wave to it so that one lock fell almost over his eyes. He was clean-shaven, with a square jaw and full lower lip. The kicker, though, was the glasses: black-framed specs sat on his nose, and he pushed them up now and them almost absently.

I stopped in my tracks and gawked a moment because the guy reminded me of someone, I couldn’t think of who. But it was driving me so crazy that I wasn’t sure I could wait on him without making a fool out of myself.

Turned out I was right.

I forced myself to approach his table, whip out my pad and pencil and smile my normal bright greeting.

Good morning, I’m Grace, and I’ll be your—oh, my God. Clark!

My customer turned his head to look up at me, and when he did, the strangest transformation took place. His eyes behind the heavy glasses went wide, his cheeks flushed, and that sexy, kissable mouth dropped open.

Uh, I’m sorry? His voice was deep and even, and I wanted to fall into it.

Clark. That’s who you— I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Okay, I’m sorry. I have this thing about when people remind me of someone else. It drives me nuts. And the minute I stood next to you, I realized who you look like.

Friend of yours named Clark? he guessed, the corners of his mouth curling up.

No, it’s—you look like Clark Kent. You know, Superman? Or his mild-mannered persona, I guess.

His face went even redder. Yes, I’ve heard of him. But I don’t really see the resemblance.

Wow, really? Do you even look in the mirror? I shook my head. Seriously. The next time you shave, take a good, long gander at yourself first. With your glasses on. You’ll be amazed.

He ducked his head, and I realized too late that I was embarrassing him. Also, I was loitering here next to his table during one of the busiest times of day in the diner.

Clearing my throat, I began again. Okay, take two. Good morning, I’m Grace, and I’ll be your waitress this morning. Can I start you off with some coffee?

Yes, please. He finally met my eyes again, and to my relief, I saw humor there. My name is Spencer, and I guess I’ll be your customer.

Tucking my pad away, I chuckled as I flipped over his coffee cup with one hand and poured coffee with the other. Cream and sugar?

Just cream, please. And can I go ahead and order now? I’m kind of in a hurry this morning.

Oh, sure. No problem. I set down the coffee pot and retrieved my order pad once again. Okay, shoot.

Two eggs over hard, please, with wheat toast, no butter. Oh, and a glass of water, please. No ice.

I scrawled down what he’d said. No butter at all? Do you want me to bring some on the side?

No, thanks. His lip curled slightly. I don’t like butter. Can’t stand the taste or smell.

Really? I cocked my head and picked up the coffee pot again. Bad experience? Or just a quirk?

Bad experience. He messed with the perfect knot on his tie. I have two sisters, and when I was a kid, they used me as the taste tester whenever they baked. One time, they misread the recipe and put in too much butter. Way too much butter. The result was horrible. He wrinkled his nose, and I almost would’ve sworn he turned a little green. It put me off butter for the rest of my life.

Ugh, wow. Gotcha. No butter at all. I slipped the pad back into my apron pocket. I guess we can say that butter is your kryptonite, huh?

He grinned at that, and the smile changed his entire face. The seriousness—which I thought was super-cute—vanished and gave way to a man who I realized could melt my Victoria’s Secret lace panties with one flick of his X-ray vision.

That’s my secret weakness. He raised one finger to his lips. Don’t let it get around.

Your secret is safe with me. I nodded gravely. For a long, hot moment, we just stood there, both of us staring at each other until I shook myself out of the trance.

All righty, then, Clark—I mean, Spencer. I winked at him. Your breakfast is coming right up.

I served Spencer’s food lickety-split, knowing he was in a rush. We were so busy, I felt like I was on roller skates the way I scooted from one table to another. But the great thing about this job, I’d discovered, was that so far, even when we were slammed, Kenny and Darlene kept their good humor. They expected all