Forty year old Ginny Chase is a nationally syndicated advice columnist who's finding it hard to take her own advice. Broken-hearted by her husband's unexpected death, she impulsively sells her Boston condo to buy a ramshackle old farmhouse in Maine. Big mistake. The roof leaks, the wiring is ancient and the first repair quote she gets from a contractor leaves her panicked.
But when local carpenter Mike Standish shows up to give her an estimate, Ginny finds herself experiencing an entirely different kind of panic. He's handsome, hard-working, and he's making her think things no self-respecting woman should even consider about a man sixteen years her junior.
Despite his youth, though, Mike has been around the block a time or two when it comes to love. And it doesn't take him long to realize Ginny's broken house isn't the only thing he wants to fix...
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Reviews
A FALLEN ANGEL REVIEWS recommended read!
A TRS 5-Heart Sweetheart!
5 Hearts! "Sierra Dafoe...does a tremendous job with the difference in age between lovers. Empathy, compassion, humor are written about in realistic terms with twists and turns to the relationship. Ms. Dafoe has done it again with a book that is erotic, compassionate and one heck of a good read." -- The Romance Studio
5 Blue Ribbons! "BUILT TO LAST is more than just an erotic novella; it truly is a love story and one that will be sure to find its way onto your keeper's list." -- Romance Junkies
5 Stars! "Ginny's reaction to her feelings for Mike felt so natural to me they make the story seem more than real; more like I knew them and witnessed these events personally. I was blown away reading Built To Last. You've got to read this one!" -- JERR
5 Angels! "Ms. Dafoe has created characters with believable feelings, infusing just the right amount of internal and external conflict in a relatively short tale. In BUILT TO LAST she has again proved herself to be a writer whose stories are both captivating and titillating, making the reader wish for more at the end of each one." -- Fallen Angel Reviews
5 Stars! "Sierra Dafoe is a master when it comes to expressing genuine emotions, and her skill has never been more evident than in BUILT TO LAST." -- eCataRomance
4 Nymphs! "Built to Last is a tender and heartwarming tale of one woman's struggle to overcome a devastating loss, and Ms. Dafoe does it with compassion, understanding, and humor." -- Literary Nymphs
"Sierra Dafoe has written these really wonderful and vulnerable characters. You will enjoy Built to Last and will want to read it over and over again." -- Joyfully Reviewed
Built to Last M/F sensual romance
Publisher: Ellora's Cave
Format: eBook
Length: Novella
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Excerpt
It felt distinctly odd, showing this almost obscenely young man into her bathroom with yesterday's bra dangling from a towel hook and her toothbrush still sitting on the chipped porcelain sink. Mike yanked back the shower curtain surrounding the cramped, shallow bathtub, revealing a snarl of hair curled around the rusty drain. A few gray strands glimmered among the long chestnut ones, and Ginny blushed. Really, she could have taken the time to clean out the tub before he got here.
Mike squinted at the nozzle then followed the piping down to where it disappeared into the floor. He grunted, much as the old contractor had done--and why, Ginny wondered, hadn't his presence made her wish dreadfully she'd grabbed the Comet before his arrival?
"So how bad is it?" she asked.
"Dunno yet. Where's the basement?"
"Under the house, I'd imagine." The words slipped out reflexively, and Ginny froze. Dear God, did I just try to flirt with him? If so, she was woefully out of practice.
But Mike merely chuckled. "Fair enough. Where's the entrance to the basement?"
Cheeks on fire, Ginny trooped back to the stairs, uncomfortably aware of the young man following her down. For all his size he moved very quietly, even in the scuffed tan work boots he wore. When she opened the basement door though, Mike pulled a flashlight out of his hip pocket and went down first, leaving her to follow him...which was, she discovered, infinitely worse.
He really was tall--tall enough that he had to go down two steps before the top of his head was level with hers. His wavy, honey-brown hair brushed the back of his collar. She could see the muscles of his back move beneath the thin, stretched fabric of his shirt...and the way his jeans cupped the hard curves of his ass was positively sinful.
Twenty years ago I would've climbed you like a jungle gym.
The thought, unbidden, sprang to her mind before she could censor it and Ginny bit her lip, feeling a stab of guilt. Karl had been a big man too, but not like this. Not with those flaring shoulders and taut, powerful thighs...
Stop it, Ginny! Stop it right now!
Drawing herself upright, Ginny squared her shoulders and followed Mike down the stairs, refusing to look at anything but the back of his head.
At the bottom, he flicked the light switch and dim circles of light sprang up beneath the naked bulbs dangling here and there. Looking around, Mike whistled long and low.
"What?" Ginny asked, suddenly terrified he was about to inform her the house was on the verge of tumbling down around her ears.
He nodded at the southeast corner, where the huge slabs of native granite had begun caving inward. "Now see, that's what I love about these old foundations. I bet you that wall's been like that for at least fifty years."
"You mean I don't have to fix it?"
"Well, eventually, sure. But not this decade." He grinned at her and moved to examine the damage, his hands running almost affectionately over the rough gray stones.
She stared after him, feeling a relief so huge she could hardly breathe for a moment. That damned old shyster, she thought, mentally subtracting ten thousand dollars from the price the contractor had given her. He knew. He knew good and well, the bastard.
"So what's the price tag?" she asked as Mike ran the beam of his flashlight along the piping overhead.
"Well..." He poked at the water heater then studied the old, braided wiring, tracing it back to the outdated breaker panel. In the shadowy light he looked keen, competent-and older. "Assuming the roof's not too bad and I can find you a decent deal on copper piping, you're looking at a good thirty thousand dollars, maybe thirty-five before all's said and done." Obviously misinterpreting the expression on her face, he added hastily, "Now, you don't have to pay that all at once, Mrs. Chase. It'll be a big chunk up front for materials, but we can work the rest out as we go along..."
"Ginny, please." The relief she felt was so enormous it made her dizzy. "Call me Ginny."
"I take it that's a yes?"
"That is most definitely a yes."
"Great!" Some half-buried tension seemed to ease from his face and he grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. Ginny found his excitement adorable--in another four or five years, she knew, he'd have learned to conceal that automatic response. He paused then and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to talk it over with Mr. Chase first?"
Ginny froze, the relief inside her turning into something leaden and all too familiar. She felt a sudden, completely irrational anger at this handsome young man for reminding her of her grief. "He's dead," she said bluntly. Mike's eyes darkened immediately, the tips of his ears going pink with embarrassment, making him look almost painfully young.
Oh great, Ginny. You gonna take up kicking puppies too?
But his voice, deep and suddenly rough, wasn't boyish at all. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." His jaw knotted and he watched her with a compassion that made her turn away quickly, her heart aching.
"How long will this take?" she asked, trying to regain her composure.
Mike shrugged--relieved, Ginny fancied, to find himself back on solid ground--and glanced around the basement again. "Couple of months at least. I'll be here first thing Monday morning to go over the house more thoroughly, make sure there isn't anything horrible I've missed. And I'll shop around for roofing over the weekend."
He headed back up the basement stairs, framed against the sunlight spilling down from the hallway. Ginny followed him up and opened the front door for him.
"I'll see you Monday, then." He paused, seeming about to add something, then turned abruptly and loped down the front steps. Ginny stood on the wide, sun-flooded porch, smelling the first hint of pollen from the budding trees and watched him stride down the driveway, his shoulders swinging easily and his jeans cupping that gorgeous, muscular ass. He lifted his head as he opened the truck door, saw her standing there and raised his hand in a small wave.
Oh God, she thought nervously, a sudden knot clenching deep in her belly. God, I'm going to have that in my house every day for the next two months?
A FALLEN ANGEL REVIEWS recommended read!
