Cody loves nothing better than introducing newcomers to the great features of his beloved home state, and when the newbie in question is a rumpled professorial type with the saddest blue eyes on the planet? Score! The attraction between the two men deepens as they explore Cody’s favorite spots, but when difficulties arise and Aaron’s insecurities threaten to overwhelm him, will Cody’s love be enough to keep him in Mystic?
States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.
Buy links: Dreamspinner | Amazon US | Amazon UK
Cat gives this one 5 Meows with a 1 Purr heat index...
Aaron is standing in Sea Port, his Condo is selling, he quit his job and is unsure if he will get the job he applied for here.
Cody a young volunteer sees the sexy professor looking like a lost puppy and offers to show him around. They hit it off and go on a few dates in the next few days. Cody is an adventure seeker, footloose and fancy-free, living life as it comes.
These two men couldn't be any different. I loved this story. The characters are all endearing, the setting beautiful, I felt as if I were on tour. I liked the little history lessons and of course, I loved the slow building but sweet romance.
When I got to the sexy professor, and young volunteer I was sold. Oh yes give me May-December any day and I swoon, then toss in the opposites attract, a small dose of cute kid and you have the perfect story to relax on a hot summer day or cold winter night! Grab a drink of your choice, curl up and enjoy!
Excerpt...
THE OCEAN’S on the wrong side.
The sun, tipping toward the west, wasn’t aiming for the sea that lurked out of sight at the mouth of the Mystic River. That, more than anything—more than typing his scathing letter of resignation, more than his brief conversation with an openmouthed real estate agent, more than buying a last-minute, full-price ticket from LAX to Hartford—brought home to Aaron the enormity of what he’d done.
I’m on the other side of the country without a safety net—no friends, no home, no job.
Correction: no job yet. Fingers twitching, panic fizzing in his veins, Aaron fumbled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his calendar app. Tomorrow the entire afternoon was blocked out in comforting green. Interview and presentation at Hillview Academy.
He’d applied for the job of librarian-slash-history teacher on an impulse anyway, his sinuses burning from over an hour in rush-hour traffic on a day with yet another air quality advisory, frustrated with the latest mind-numbing research assignment in the ad agency’s poorly scanned, unindexed archives. When the school had scheduled his first phone interview, he’d assumed it was a fluke, so he hadn’t been nervous. That must have been why it went so well—I had nothing at stake then. The second interview—same thing.
When he got the call for the third interview, he’d been on his lunch hour, just leaving the food court at the mall. He was about to agree to meet with a local alumni committee when he’d spotted his ex in the jewelry store, cooing over wedding rings with his new boyfriend not two months after Wayne had walked out, claiming he wasn’t the marrying kind.
So Aaron blurted, “You needn’t go to the trouble. I’m relocating to Connecticut anyway. Leaving tomorrow, in fact, so I’d be happy to visit the campus and meet with the committee there.”
What the hell was I thinking? I’m never spontaneous. I always plan and plan again. Yet he’d let hurt and humiliation goad him into the first impulsive decision in his entire thirty-seven years, completely imploding his life.
He’d never even been out of Southern California before. Hell, in the sandwich shop where he’d stopped to buy lunch this afternoon, he’d stared at the chip rack for ten minutes, unable to find any recognizable brands. What made him think he could navigate an entirely new state where even the damn potato chips were strangers?
He blotted the perspiration off his upper lip. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a reset. The HR manager at the agency had always been nice to Aaron. Maybe he could talk her into forgetting about that unfortunate resignation letter. Hillview had told Aaron he was one of three final candidates—they’d have no problem filling the post.
That’s what he’d do. Cancel his interview. Text the real estate agent to take his condo off the market. Book yet another full-price ticket. Fly back to Southern California. With his boss away on his annual self-discovery retreat, chances were good that nobody but the HR manager would even know he’d been gone.
He cast a last wistful glance at the charming historic houses surrounding the Mystic Seaport Village green. He’d come this far. Maybe he could delay another few hours to tour the museum before returning to his hotel to pack.
No. He couldn’t put it off. If this put a serious dent in his savings with nothing whatsoever to show for it, that should teach him a lesson that he’d apparently forgotten: security is paramount. “Familiar” might be unexciting, but at least it was safe.
His phone vibrated in his hand, and when he checked the screen, the text from the real estate agent sent his stomach into free fall.
Great news! Three offers on the condo in the first day. All over the asking price, and no contingencies. We’ll be able to close even more quickly than you’d hoped.
No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. He’d set the price ridiculously high, even by Orange County standards, specifically to give himself a seller’s remorse emergency escape option. But if there were no contingencies, and the offers were over the asking price, he couldn’t pull out of the contract without a penalty—which his finances couldn’t support. His savings still hadn’t recovered from the condo down payment, and after further decimating them with two outrageously expensive airline tickets?
He dropped his arm to his side, fingers numb around his phone, alone in the crowd of laughing tourists. Jesus, I’m as reckless and foolhardy as my parents.
What am I going to do?
E.J. Russell—certified geek, mother of three, recovering actor—holds a BA and an MFA in theater, so naturally she’s spent the last three decades as a financial manager, database designer, and business intelligence consultant (as one does). She’s recently abandoned data wrangling, however, and spends her days wrestling words.
E.J. is married to Curmudgeonly Husband, a man who cares even less about sports than she does. Luckily, C.H. loves to cook, or all three of their children (Lovely Daughter and Darling Sons A and B) would have survived on nothing but Cheerios, beef jerky, and satsuma mandarins (the extent of E.J.’s culinary skill set).
E.J. lives in rural Oregon, enjoys visits from her wonderful adult children, and indulges in good books, red wine, and the occasional hyperbole.
Sign up for E.J.’s newsletter at ejrussell.com/newsletter or find her online at ejrussell.com, on Facebook at facebook.com/E.J.Russell.author, on Twitter at twitter.com/ej_russell.
Thank you for the excerpt!
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