Sierra: Love In Somerset, #3.5

By Shelly Ferguson

What happens when a small-town hairdresser and a secretive hottie are trapped in a cabin?

When I agreed to deliver food every night the week before Christmas to a stranger I wasn't prepared for a driveway I couldn't drive on, a run-down shack, or a pair of gold eyes that watched my every move. I really wasn't ready to be trapped at the said shack on Christmas Eve in the middle of a snowstorm, rescue a hurt raccoon, or be carried off by a half-dressed madman.

If you are in the mood for a chick who likes to help a friend out, a secretive guy living in a shack in the woods, and a raccoon that refuses to return to the wild this is the novella for you.

 

This is a forced proximity / Christmas paranormal romance in the completed Love in Somerset Series by Shelly Ferguson. If you love reading about a quirky hairdresser and the secretive shifter that claimed her, then this is the book for you.

Written in Single POV, No Cheating, and a Happily Ever After.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shelly Ferguson
• Release date: Feb 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223686170

Shelly Ferguson

Shelly Ferguson is best described as a horrible housewife, an awesome mother, an introverted nerd and a hopeless romantic. She lives in the South with her loving hubby, a mermaid for a daughter, two hell hounds, and two miniature divine beings. (Cats – they are cats.) She loves to write stories where the women save themselves, find the man of their dreams, and have a little fun along the way.

Book preview

Three Days Until Christmas

Istared at the turnoff in disbelief. My GPS wanted me to turn onto a one-lane dirt road I’d never noticed before. I probably never noticed it because it was more animal trail than a road.  There was no way I could make it through there without scratching every inch of my paint job.

I parked on the side of the road and called Hannah.

Hey, you find it?

Uh. No. I found a tiny dirt trail the GPS thinks I need to turn onto.

Yeah, you found it.

There is no way I'm gonna drive my car through that mess. How in the world did you get your van through there?

I put my foot on the gas pedal?

Not funny, Hannah. You didn't tell me the house was missing a driveway when you begged me to deliver dinner to this guy for you all week.

Sierra, I promise it’s fine. I know because I do it all the time. The house is only a hundred feet off the road. If you don't want to risk it, just walk.

I chewed on the side of my lip as I considered the amount of damage the trees could do to my new baby in a hundred feet.

Please, Sierra. I had to cancel all my other clients because I broke my leg. This guy only comes to town a couple of times a year, but he is a quarter of my income. All you have to do is get the box to the front porch, ring the bell, and walk away. I promise to make you dinner every night for a month.

I ignored the bribe. Hannah was my best friend. We both knew she would make me dinner if I helped her or not.

It was clear she wouldn't be able to go about her regular routine as I wheeled her out of the emergency room to my car. First, she couldn't make it up the flight of stairs to her second-floor apartment, so I insisted she needed to stay with me. Then I became her defacto delivery girl when she couldn't cancel the standing dinner order for the hermit.

Secretly I was happy to help her in any way I could. Maybe taking care of her would keep me too busy to focus on the fact it was my first Christmas without my mother.

If he comes to town several times a year, why haven't I seen him in town before?

I haven't even seen him. Do you question it when Tabitha comes in for a full blowout every three days, or do you just take her money?

Guilt flared in me when I heard the desperation in her voice. I'm sorry, honey, you're right. I’m gonna walk the box up to the porch. See you when I get home.

I turned off the engine and tucked the phone in my pocket. Thank heavens I changed after work into jeans and sneakers. There was no way I could make it through the woods in the skirt and boots I usually wore to work. I patted my pockets to make sure I had everything before I clicked the lock on the car. Phone - check. Keys - check. A box of food big enough to feed a family of five - check.

I didn't see a house after I rounded the curve in the driveway. Instead, I saw an enormous black motorcycle inside a shiny metal shed. I muttered to myself as I picked my way around clumps of weeds about why a motorcycle driving neanderthal would pay to have a gourmet dinner delivered every night when he could probably shift into a beast to catch his own dinner.

I shifted the box to my other hip when I first saw the 'house.' It looked like a one-room shack made of logs straight out of a hillbilly movie. The only thing it needed was a broken-down car with weeds growing through the hood and the shell of a washing