Handy Man (Curvy Mountain Inn #1) Read Online Flora Madison

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Curvy Mountain Inn Series by Flora Madison
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Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 9533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 48(@200wpm)___ 38(@250wpm)___ 32(@300wpm)
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Brigid:
When I learned I’d be inheriting my Aunt’s Inn, I was ecstatic.
I spent some amazing summers in the small mountain town of Rose River Point as a kid.
Being back here feels natural, and I’m ready for the challenge!
Enter: tall, dark, and insanely buff Abe Barret.
He’s been taking care of the place in my Aunt’s absence.
Not only is he good with his hands, but he’s easy on the eyes.
But is he only sticking around because he promised my Aunt?
Or, is there something more between us tingling beneath the surface?

Abe:
I knew Eloise’s niece was taking over the Inn, and I promised to help.
What I didn’t expect was for her to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Not only is Brigid built like a goddess, with curves to blow any pin-up out of the water,
But she’s smart, kind, and hilarious, too.
Coming from the city, I’m sure she’s used to a specific kind of man.
Something tells me a handy man is exactly her type.
I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove to her that I’m the man for her.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

Chapter One

Brigid

After all these years, I can’t believe I’m standing in front of the Rose Mountain Inn. I take in a long breath of fresh air and lift the hem of my skirt before ascending the steps. Everything looks exactly the same as Aunt Eloise left it, albeit worn with age. She’d purchased the Inn when she was twenty-seven and kept it running until last year when she died and left it to me in her will.

The set of keys Mr. Aldrich, the estate attorney, handed over not twenty minutes ago, jingle in my palm as I lean in and peer through the glass etched front door. How many times did I get yelled at for slamming it after swimming in the creek on a hot August day? A smile plays on my lips, but I can’t tell if it’s from happiness or bittersweet nostalgia. Maybe it’s a little of both.

“Here goes nothing,” I whisper and wiggle the key into the lock. To my surprise, the door swings open on its own. I automatically step back, wondering why the hell it wasn’t locked like Mr. Aldrich said. My heart rate kicks up. I press my hand against my chest, willing myself to breathe.

Should I wait to go inside? Call the cops? What if someone’s been in here—a squatter or something worse?

“It’s probably just an old lock,” I tell myself, and gaging from the condition of the rest of the house, the statement’s probably closer to the truth than I’d like to admit. This place is going to take some work, but I’m finally going to fulfill my dream of owning my very own Mountain Resort.

The door creaks as I push it all the way open and step inside. It’s a bit mildewy in here, but in a strange way, I don’t mind the scent. At least the place seems to be kept clean. I smile, thinking of Aunt Eloise’s near OCD cleaning habits. Thank God she didn’t make me clean when I would visit her in the summers. Secretly, I was always ecstatic when she’d refuse my offer to help her out. Go out and have yourself a hootenanny of a summer, she’d say. You’re only young once.

My sandals scuff against the hardwood floor—still in fantastic condition, I’m happy to say—as I make my way past the long, twisting staircase and to the front desk. The framed photos are all the same–historic photos of the Inn, along with the town of Rose River Point. The place could use a good overhaul, and I promise to hire a designer as soon as I get it up and running again.

Thud!

I jerk at the sudden movement overhead. My gaze falls on the stairs. I’m frozen to the spot, listening for another sound, as though I need another sign that someone else is in the Inn. The sound comes in the form of footsteps.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself. My body’s a half beat behind my brain, screaming at me to get out and call someone—the police, Mr. Aldrich, anyone—but there isn’t time. The top step creaks. I clutch my purse and head back out the front door, but I’m not fast enough, the second I find myself in front of the staircase, I’m eye to bare naked chest with a sweaty man.

“Oh Jesus,” he says, and wipes his brow with the back of his wrist. “I didn’t know you were coming today. You must be Brigid.”

My mouth works hard to form words, but all I can think is: chest, abs, shoulders, treasure trail…fuck this guy’s hot!

“And you are?” I swallow, barely able to speak.

“Abe.” He extends his hand and I take it. His palm engulfs mine, and something deep inside of me ignites. It starts in my stomach and doesn’t stop until it reaches my center, causing my panties to dampen instantly. “Abe Barrett.” He pulls his hand away and I immediately miss the warmth in his touch.


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