Deena can't help but fantasise about the hot handyman she meets next door. She's certain that the gorgeous blond has exactly the tool she needs.
Curvy, quirky Deena Stevens never quite fitted in. She feels especially out of place in the company of "The Botox Brigade"—the kept and polished women populating the upscale homes that border her organic farm.
Regardless of their differences, Deena's neighbours seem to enjoy her company. They sit and chat when they come to buy Deena's free-range eggs and pesticide-free veggies. They even invite her to join their book club—despite the objection of Suzanne, who hosts the club meetings and clearly considers herself the queen of the group.
The book-clubbers peacefully coexist until a house call from sexy handyman, Bill, disrupts the monthly meeting. The women jostle for attention and superficial friendships are tested. Jealousies flare when the hot, handsome blond openly flirts with Deena and ignores the trophy wives. Suzanne has already set her sights on Bill, and when Deena reveals his surprising connection to her past, Suzanne gets territorial.
After their surprise reunion, Bill promises to keep in touch with Deena. Bill shows up at Deena's door and a night of incomparable passion leaves them both craving more. When Suzanne discovers their tryst she begins crafting a plan to destroy the new love affair and steal the sexy handyman for herself.
Will Mr. Fix-It have what it takes to repair the damage?
General Release Date: 23rd July 2012
Deena Stevens stopped brushing her hair in mid-stroke and cocked her head to listen.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The rhythmic banging was coming from the laundry room.
"Shit! Not again!"
Deena tossed her hairbrush into the open vanity drawer then slid it closed with a smooth swing of her ample hip. Her bare feet slapped on the age-worn oak floor as she ran out of the bathroom, down the hall, across the big country kitchen and into the laundry room.
The 1970s avocado-green washing machine was rocking wildly back and forth; thudding at the apex of each shimmy. Deena flipped open the lid and looked inside the ancient appliance. The rotating drum inside was off kilter, spinning in an oval pattern rather than a circle. As she'd done a hundred times before, Deena waited as the interrupted spin cycle slowed and finally stopped with one last thud!
Deena was just south of five-foot-four, and had to stand on tiptoe when she leaned over the edge of the machine to get at the load of whites inside. She rearranged the sopping wet bed sheets and ankle socks until they were as balanced as they'd ever get, then dropped the lid closed.
The machine gradually rumbled back to life, spinning slowly at first, then picking up speed. Deena stood back and squinted at the washer. She crossed her arms under her generous breasts, and bit her lower lip. She didn't take her eyes off the 'Avocado Beast' until the spin cycle was whirring away at full speed and it was clear that the cantankerous old machine wasn't going to go walking out of the laundry room.
Satisfied that the spin cycle was going to be completed without further drama, Deena stepped back into the kitchen. She supposed she should finish getting ready before the phone rang.
Deena had barely finished the thought when a slightly robotic version of Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries' blasted out of her cell phone. She glanced at the phone sitting on its charger on the gleaming granite countertop, then up at the clock over the big stainless steel restaurant-grade range. She registered the time in her mind, then looked back at her ringing phone.
"Shit. Shit. Shit," Deena muttered.
She took a deep breath, pulled her cell from the charger and swept her finger over the touch screen to answer the call. She didn't have to look at the Caller ID, or the photo of the fashion—model—perfect face that popped up on the screen, to know who was calling.
"Hey, Suzanne. I know I'm late. Be there in ten…"
Deena rolled her eyes and held the phone a few inches from her ear as Suzanne Flowers launched into her rant without bothering with 'hellos'.
"Are you always late or are you just operating on special 'Deena time'? No one else seems to have any trouble getting here by eight, and everyone is pretty sick and tired of waiting around for you. I mean, really, how hard is it to—"
Deena put the phone down on the enormous antique farm table that filled the centre of the kitchen. She knew that Suzanne would continue with her tirade, whether or not Deena was actually listening.
Deena had heard the same lecture at least a dozen times over the past four years. That's when Suzanne and a whole gaggle of other 'Barbie wives' had become her neighbours. Six years ago, she'd sold off some of her inherited family farmland for a new high-end housing development. Gigantic homes had begun popping up on the rolling landscape and had been almost instantly snapped up by folks with lots of money and, with a few exceptions, very little depth.
Gabrielle Holly lives in the Midwest United States with her husband and two enormous, world—class—shedding dogs. She has worked as a freelance journalist, newspaper humour columnist, stand-up comic and morning radio show host. She has a short attention span and enjoys reading, cooking, crafting, hunting for antiques, attending live theatre, watching movies, spending time outdoors, and coercing her husband into being her "research assistant."
Gabrielle loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted at: Gabrielle@gabrielleholly.com
Reviewed by Night Owl Romance Reviews
This was a short read, but I really liked Deena for her attitude and honesty when things promised to get messy. A good read.
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Reviewed by Whipped Cream Reviews
This was a very good story, the author portrayed a not so perfect woman among cosmetically perfect ones and still showed how love can look past the surface...Mr. Fix-It is an enjoyable read and if you...
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