My fixer-upper came with a six-foot grump who fills a doorframe.
And a key to my front door he has zero plans to explain.
One look at those arms and I nearly fell through the floor.
He actually caught me when I did.
Chest to chest.
His hands at my waist.
The man smells like sawdust and bad decisions.
He told me to stop filming him.
I told him it was my house.
But wait.
We're sharing walls in this unfinished Victorian.
In a mountain town with nowhere else to be.
He doesn't flirt.
He doesn't talk.
He just fixes broken things with those rough hands like he's deciding whether they're worth saving.
The way he pinned me with those dark eyes across a dusty room and said, “You’re going to be trouble.”
He wasn't wrong.
This silent, grumpy man is tearing down walls I didn't know I'd built.
He says he’s a closed door.
He’s never met a woman with this many tools.
The Grumpy Carpenter’s Sunshine is a steamy standalone small-town romance with forced proximity, a near-silent hero who falls hard, slow burn, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after. No cheating. No cliffhangers.
