This is a great price for 5 adorable stories. When you only have time for a quick bon bon of a story, these are the perfect book snack.
“Lucky Break” by Aria Kane from One Lucky Night
the alley. The Brazen Head had been busy, but not unmanageable – a steady stream of orders came
through the kitchen. The dishes were starting to pile up in the sink. He glanced up at the clock on the
wall. Seven o'clock on the dot. Just what he needed. Some cranky butt-crack-bearing plumber getting
in his way and dirtying up his kitchen.
"Andy the handyman," he muttered to himself before pulling the heavy door open.
A biting wind blasted him in the face, but it was the face greeting him that knocked him back a step.
It was a face he knew very well, but had never planned on seeing again. Andrea Rivera stood in the
glow of the security lights, looking all grown up. She wore jeans, work boots, and a black leather
jacket. Her long black hair swept back into a tight ponytail. But damn if she still didn’t look as pretty
as she'd ever looked in her sundresses and strappy sandals. Her lips parted in surprise and he found
his eyes drawn to their full shape. No, he thought, pretty wasn't the right word anymore. She was
pretty when she was a teenager. Now, she was gorgeous and sexy as hell.
"Derek?" she asked, shaking him from his thoughts. Her voice cracked on his name. Must have been
the cold February air. She met his eyes for the briefest moment before glancing away. Her eyes were
the same honey brown he remembered from that day four years ago.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice harsher than he'd intended. You can't be here, he
Andrea's pink lips turned down and her brow creased. She stared at him like that for a few long
seconds, somehow avoiding his eyes the entire time.
"I should ask you the same," she murmured, then sighed. "I'm here to fix a dishwasher."
It was only then he noticed the large red toolbox hanging from her mitten-covered hand. Across the
top in permanent marker, she had written "Andy" in scrolling cursive permanent marker.
"Andy’s coming to fix the dishwasher. You're Andrea," he said, as if establishing her true identity
would make her disappear. He stared dumbly at the toolbox. This had to be some weird mistake. He
found himself wishing for the burly handyman he'd been dreading only seconds before.
She raised an eyebrow at him and waved at the dark alley with her free hand. White flurries whipped
in and out of the dim streams of light. "Are you really going to let me freeze out here because I now
go by a nickname?"