Saving the Guy Next Door: Guy Next Door, #6

By Kali Hart

Claire

I'm not thrilled to be moving into an apartment.
But things start to look up when I realize my neighbor across the hall is smokin' hot.
And single.
I think there may even be a spark between us.
Then Evan asks me to go with him to sister's wedding.
Not as a date—as a fake girlfriend.
I should say no.
If Evan isn't interested in more, I'm just going to get hurt.
So why do I say yes?

Evan

The last thing I want to do is go to my sister's wedding without a plus one.
Not when my ex will be there too.
She cheated on me, and it's unforgiveable.
But my mom seems dead set on us getting back together.
So I do the only thing I can last minute.
I ask my neighbor to come as my girlfriend so we can put on a show.
Except, my feelings for her are anything but fake.
But with my mom furious and my ex determined to win me back, it might be harder than I bargained to convince Claire that she really is the only one for me.

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: Nov 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9798223251590

Book preview

1

CLAIRE

I never thought I’d move into an apartment again.

But my former landlord is an asshole. Who takes someone out for a birthday lunch and, at the very end, tells said birthday girl that she’s raising the rent by four hundred bucks a month? I thought we were friends, but that event exposed the cold, hard truth.

That’s all of it, the mover says to me outside my apartment door, handing me a clipboard with a receipt to sign.

I leave a generous tip because these guys were not only available last minute, they were more than kind. More than I can say for my landlord. When I was warned my rent would go up next month, I found an apartment I could move into two days later and immediately wondered how I was going to make it happen. But the movers made quick work of everything in a very handle with care kind of way. As the last one retreats, clipboard in hand, it occurs to me they might’ve misread my frequent tears. Oh well.

With a heavy sigh, I step into my apartment, letting the door fall closed behind me. For three comfortable years, I lived in a house I loved with a fenced-in backyard and a garden full of flowers. That covered patio was my happy place. My sanctuary with a sweet-faced golden retriever waiting on the other side of the fence. I wasn’t allowed to have pets, but I doted on the neighbor’s dog daily.

Damn, I’m going to miss Sadie. I tear up again, imagining her waiting for me in her backyard and no treat showing up. Not ever again.

Now I’m shoved into a third floor apartment that has exactly two windows—one of which is a glass sliding door—and not a dog in sight. Boxes are stacked everywhere—no chance in hell this place has enough closet space for my life. I can hear my neighbor below on the phone, and I’m pretty sure the girl down the hall is playing music. At least it’s a new building, I try to console myself. No worries about who’s done what on my bedroom carpet.

I need food, I mumble, swiping the keys off my miniscule kitchen counter. If it weren’t a weeknight, I’d seriously consider getting a bottle of Moscato and erasing this day from memory.

But I have to work tomorrow.

And