Showing results for "TJ" in Small Town & Rural

An ordinary weekday morning in the quiet little town of Lake Haven in upstate New York. Bobbi arrives at work—only to find the parking lot cordoned off with yellow crime-scene tape. She sees her co-worker Harriet's car. Blood splashed across the front seats—a lot of blood. It's Lake Haven's first murder in 18 years. No witnesses. No apparent motive. The tight-knit little community is terrified. And Bobbi is the most scared of all. Because it should have been her working last night's shift. Not Harriet.

He's a dashing millionaire who thinks everything in life is one big joke. He's also my new neighbor, and after a humiliating experience in the cemetery that is my backyard, he becomes my shadow, showing up everywhere just to annoy me. I'm not a fan of happy people. They bother me with their constant grins and rainbows coming out of their ears, and Vander Booth is the king of smiles. Despite my efforts to scare him away with both my profession as an undertaker and my general need for frowning through most of my workday, he sticks around like a bad case of poison ivy.

He's a giant of a man who grunts for words and barks out orders, yet circumstances require I be his fake girlfriend and spend the weekend with him in an isolated cabin. And of course there's only one bed. Just my luck . . .But I need this commission check that only Boston can guarantee me. So I hike up the mountain 'til I can't feel my legs, eat questionable canned beans for sustenance, and vow to simply ignore him for two days. What I didn't count on was a freak blizzard to lock us in the cabin for a bit longer.

I've been in love with my best friend since the day I met her freshman year of high school. She was a halo of sunshine on a rainy day, pulling me out of the shadows and making me feel like life was one big roller-coaster ride of excitement. Until the day we graduated and she left on the back of a Harley with some guy who didn't deserve her, middle fingers in the air. Twelve years later, she's back in Blueball, as if she hadn't broken my heart and never looked back.

It started with him being the bane of my existence. The uptight, infuriatingly handsome lawyer with a permanent scowl and a glare sharp enough to slice glass. He storms over every time my mail ends up in his box—or whenever he feels like reminding me that photography isn't a "real" job. Keats knows exactly how to get under my skin, and honestly? Half the time, I want to strangle him. The other half…I'm trying not to imagine what he looks like shirtless.