Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I set her down, reluctantly releasing my hold on her hips. She murmurs her thanks, her face down. She’s obviously feeling this attraction between us, but she’s not ready to acknowledge it yet. That’s okay. Before this snowstorm ends, I’m going to win her heart.
I reach for Killer and pass him to her, careful to keep from touching her. If I do, I might just go up in flames.
“Come on. I’ll show you around,” I tell her.
I open the front door, then step back, gesturing for her to go in front of me. It’s not that I’m a gentleman. It’s just that I love the way her dress flips up in the back, framing her perfect ass.
“Oh, it’s so warm and cheerful,” she says as she steps in.
I try to imagine my living room through her eyes. The first sight to greet her is the massive wall of bookshelves where I keep thousands of books.
I’m not just a writer. I’m obsessed with reading too. Growing up, books were my escape from darkness and pain. Now they’re my escape from the loneliness that’s clawed at me for the past few years.
My laptop and a blanket are thrown casually on the couch because I added some notes to my manuscript before I went to see Emma May. The coffee table is covered in sticky notes and doodles that I make when I can’t think of the next word or sentence that I want to type.
But my favorite feature of the living room is the wall of windows that overlooks the mountains of Courage County. It’s a peaceful view that never fails to fill me with calm and soothe me when the cabin seems too big for just one person.
Holly moves to the windows, watching the snow flurries for a few long moments. She shivers. “I’m so glad to be inside.”
I don’t say anything. I let her look over my living room, exploring everything with her gaze. I spend most of my time here, but I don’t tell her that. It’s pretty obvious. She goes to my bookshelves, runs her fingertips along the spines of my books.
She doesn’t know my pen name. But I nearly sigh when she runs her fingertips along the spine of my favorite series. I’m thinking about what it would feel like to have her fingers tracing my body the same way.
Finally, she pauses and pulls a non-fiction research book from the stack. It’s about small weaponry and simple methods of torture. Not exactly first date material. She looks at me with one eyebrow raised and says, “What is it you do again?”
Chapter 4
Holly
“What is it you do again?” I ask as I pull a book off of his bookshelf that’s about medieval torture. He has so many books. It appears that it’s a heavy mix of research and romance books along with thrillers.
I’m not sure what to make of Hunter. I haven’t been since the moment he picked me up. He’s a confusing contradiction. A gruff mountain man who appears to have a serious addiction to romance books and also a love for books on weapons, torture, and various poisons.
With any other guy, I’d be a little bit scared. But there’s something about being with Hunter. He makes me feel safe. I know I’ve only known him for an hour, but the way he looks at me takes my breath away.
He crosses the room and hands me a romance book from his shelf.
I glance at the cover. It’s a romantic suspense book, judging from the couple embracing on the front along with the stylized weapon. “So, you design covers then?”
He shakes his head. “No, I write books about men with big…guns.”
I look back at the heaving woman with the huge breasts. I can’t resist teasing him. “That’s not the only thing that’s big in your books.”
His eyes sparkle. I think he likes it when I tease him. “Now you know what I do, but I don’t know what your profession is.”
I think of the endless string of holiday movies I’ve been starring in since I was five years old. When I was ten, I complained to my mom that I didn’t want to do it anymore. I was sick of acting. She told me we coordinate happiness for others at the holidays. It seems like a good way to avoid his question and not explain my real identity. “I’m a happiness coordinator.”
His gaze rakes down my figure, heating me up just as much as he did when he grabbed my hips. “I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
I roll my eyes even though secretly I’m enjoying his flirting.
I’ve never had someone that makes my heart flutter the way he does. I always thought that was just a sappy expression we used in movies. But now I’m wondering if it’s real. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”