Kissing the Guy Next Door: Guy Next Door, #4

By Kali Hart

Jenn

I've worked really hard for what I have.
Which includes the cute fixer-upper I bought myself.
The neighborhood is safe and charming.
My neighbors are friendly—except one.
The first time I meet Aiden, even his sinfully hot looks can't save his crappy first impression.
So why do I keep wanting to kiss him?

Aiden

I gave up on women after the last one duped me.
But when I notice my new neighbor, I can't seem to stay away from the curvy beauty.
I try to help, but all I do is end up sticking my foot in my mouth.
I should just leave well enough alone.
But I can't.
The more she shoots narrowed glares my way, the more I want her.
She's meant to be mine, and I'm not giving up on her.

Sweet & steamy short story insta-love romance with an older blue collar hero and younger curvy woman with an HEA. NO cliffhangers. NO cheating.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jackie M. Wallick
• Release date: Oct 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9798223101871

Book preview

1

JENN

How hard can it be to hang a picture? I mumble to myself, screw in one hand and drill in the other. I can do this. Everybody knows how to do this. Holding the screw against the wall, I line up the drill and push the magic button. The tool comes to life, causing me to squeak.

I know. I’m being ridiculous. Knowing that doesn’t seem to change the facts. I’m totally afraid of my brand-new, bright pink drill.

Cut me some slack. It’s my first time using one. I’m a writer. Not a home renovation expert. That’s why my first priority is to get some cheer up on the wall. Make the task of actually renovating feel less daunting.

Why aren’t you going in? I grunt as the drill moans, spinning the screw away from the tiny X I drew on the wall. What the ever-loving hell is wrong with this thing?

I set the drill down on the steps and reach for my phone. Yes, I’m going to Google how to operate a drill. Google works for any writing related question. It stands to reason that it’ll have the answers I need in real life too.

After several embarrassingly long minutes, I figure out I need to switch the button to unlock the drill and point the twisty deal in the right direction. Who would’ve known a drill could put screws in a wall and take them out?

Feeling accomplished from what I learned, I flip the little button deal I missed on attempt number one and drill the screw right into the wall. There!

The framed quote about chasing dreams was my number one entryway choice. It’s the first thing I want people to see when I open the door. I want them to feel the same hope and joy that I did when I found my tiny fixer-upper. No more fear. No more deadbolts thrown the second I make it inside and flip on a light.

I don’t miss the last couple shoddy apartments. Not at all.

Picture hung—and straight I might add!—I snap a picture and send it to my former roommate Heather. I know she’ll appreciate what this represents. Seconds after I hit send my framed photo crashes to the ground. A knock on the door follows, causing a louder shriek than the drill fiasco.

Hazard of writing murder mysteries, I suppose. Okay, so they’re cozy mysteries, but I’ve dreamed up all kinds of worst-case scenarios.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I remind myself that this is a nice neighborhood. Mrs. Wilson from across the street brought me some kind of dinner casserole, and Mrs. Johnson two houses over brought me an apple pie. It’s probably just another plate of goodies. Maybe brownies?

Hello— Whatever else I was going to say tangles on my tongue before I’m fully turned around. On the other side of the screen door stands a man who looks like he stepped straight out of a men’s fitness magazine. Dark hair, dark eyes, killer smile. And muscles. All those muscles!

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