Mr. Fix-it (MF)

Professional Reviews

4 ANGELS: "Beverly Miller is down on her luck, down on her money, and down on herself. After getting out of an unemotional and dreadful marriage of twenty-five years, she is determined to never be dependent on a man again. She has enough pride to fill the Grand Canyon and refuses to accept a hand-out, hand-up or charity from anyone. She works hard to take care of herself, 10 dogs, 2 horses and a house that's falling apart all around them all. When the heat goes out, a friend recommends a handyman. When Beverly met Chad, the last thing she was looking for was another man in her life. But she could not deny how he made her body react and her heart race. But could she trust another man with her heart after a wasted marriage. Chad, having lost his wife a few years earlier, was just starting to emerge from his shell. He remembered Beverly from a party their mutual friend had thrown a year ago. She sparked his interest then and in seeing her again, the spark was still there. Now he just have to get pass her pride, show her all men are not lazy and good-for-nothing, keep her house from falling apart, the animals together and save her from her lunatic ex-husband. But he is Mr. Fix-it and he is up for the challenge. It's always a good story when love triumphs. Divorce has become more and more commonplace in our society and many families have experienced it. It is never good and when one partner is not willing to let go, it can be worst. It was good to see a man stand by his woman through the ugliness of a jealous ex-husband most would walk away and not get involved. The hero not only fixed her home, the dogs, the horses, but also the hidden sensuality and confidence she had missed for so long. Make me want to look in my newspaper for a Mr. Fix-it, or at least place an ad, smile." -- Pam S., Fallen Angel Reviews

"Beverly Miller is a forty-three year old divorcee who is struggling to make it on her own and take care of her menagerie of animals. She spent the last 25 years married to a no good no account man who caused her to give up her life’s ambitions and take care of him. She had finally had it and kicked him to the curb. Bev doesn’t make a lot of money working at the library, and she is in need of assistance, but Bev has a lot of pride and won’t ask for a hand out let alone a hand-up. Widower Chad Brewster is the owner and operator of Rent-a-Husband and has been called in to assist the lovely Bev. He remembers her from a party that he had attended and was attracted to her, but at the time, she was still married to a loser. Chad just wants to take care of Bev, and he has to find a way to work past her pride and help her when her psychotic ex continues to hang around with his diabolical plans for his ex-wife! Mr. Fix-It was a novel full of many characters and their down home lifestyles. I couldn’t believe the sickness that came through with the villains of Mr. Fix-It, and I was just glad that Bev had a true hero in Chad. Mr. Fix-It showed that there is life after divorce and beyond the low self-esteem that the heroine had. It also revealed that a person could love their deceased loved one and still find room in their heart for another to love. When my mind wasn’t wandering, I found myself rooting for Chad and Bev’s HEA and the ex’s downfall once his motives and activities were revealed." -- Vanessa, Joyfully Reviewed

Excerpt

Story Excerpt

The glass packs and horn blaring “Dixie” were almost enough to drown the other noise. Almost. Beverly stood with cell phone held out at shoulder height and stared as her ex-husband Joe Miller’s four-wheel drive piece of shit flew past, raising a cloud of dust. It was a dead-end road, for Christ’s sake, not a drag strip.

A loud grinding came from the depths of her heat pump. She yelled into space, “Can you hear that?”

Chunk-ca-chunk…wheeze…groan.

She put the phone to her ear in time to hear Jamie say, “Son of a bitch!”

Bev instantly realized her friend must have heard Joe’s horn as well as the heat pump’s death rattle. The name actually seemed pretty tame. Jamie had called him much worse over the years—especially recently. She didn’t trust him.

Okay, that was more like it. Bev held the phone away from her ear as her friend’s language went south. Joe’s ears must be burning!

Beverly once had dreamed of becoming a veterinarian. Enter handsome bad boy Joe Miller, who talked his way into her pants and any idea of college right out of her head.

Jamie was thrilled when the divorce went so smoothly, but warned Bev repeatedly Joe was up to something. Bev knew better. Her ex was up to nothing, never had been, and never would be.

So—why the drive-by?

Bev got the settlement she wanted, the house, and the car. So far, so good with the car, but the house was falling apart. Joe hadn’t fought her for their home, too much upkeep. No shit! She worked her ass off to keep the house presentable.

Why scope the place out now? He never had any interest in the property before. He didn’t have friends on her dead-end road. Or any friends at all, as far as she knew. She pushed the thought aside to deal with the matter at hand.

While pretty adept with tools and not averse to hard labor, she couldn’t wrap her mind around some things. Heating and air stood at the top of that list right now. A squawking sound reminded her of the phone in her hand.

“…husband,” Jamie said in her ear.

“Hell no! I just got a divorce. I don’t want a husband.”

What good were they anyway? Joe let everything slide. Bev always joked that when she said I do, Joe said, not anymore. He never did the yard work. If anything broke or wore out, Bev was to blame, and he bitched the whole time as he made a half-assed repair. He didn’t even do sex anymore, too lazy or drunk to put forth the effort. After over a decade of forced celibacy, Bev declared herself a born again virgin and enough!

“Beverly Miller! Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

“Sorry. What?”

“I said—you should call Rent-a-Husband. You—”

“I don’t want to rent, buy, borrow, or take out a lease!”

Bev wisely shut the hell up when Jamie growled in her ear.

“Chad does good work…”

* * * *

Chad Brewster hefted the loaded toolbox into the bed of his work truck and adjusted the tie-downs on the twenty-foot extension ladder strapped to the rack. He wouldn’t want to lose the damn thing on the freeway. People barely drove in their own lanes anyway, what with cell phones stuck to their ears and texting instead of paying attention to their driving. On second thought, losing the ladder in the middle of the freeway seemed like an excellent idea. Cull the herd.

He had good reason to appreciate the idea.

Five years ago, long before texting became the rage, an upper-management type had been in a heated discussion with a client on his cell. The big Buick ran smooth over the top of the little red Civic. Chad’s wife, Shelley, died instantly. He ran his hand along the “Rent-A-Husband” sign on the battered truck door. The name had been her idea. He didn’t have the heart to change it.

In all his plans and dreams, he never thought he’d be a widower at thirty-eight.  

Adult Excerpt

Had he taken leave of his senses? No of course not, he always stood naked in broad daylight in the middle of creation with his cock so hard he could break bricks with it. So why wasn’t he jumping the beautiful naked woman in front of him, the one holding his dick like a snake about to strike? He couldn’t tell if she wanted to pet it or kill it. She seemed scared spitless. He tried to wrap his mind around the concept, but his entire focus centered on the other head in danger of blowing off. He silently recited batting averages, taking a deep breath between each statistic.

God, honey, do something. No! No! Not that!

His mind somersaulted and his gut clenched as her fingers stroked over the tip and swirled the moisture she collected down his shaft.

“Chad? Are you okay?”

Deep breath, and lie through your teeth. “Fine, baby. How about you let go a second and I get the blanket from the backseat?”

Air hissed from his lungs as her fingers unwrapped. So far, so good. He turned his back to her for the moment necessary to open the back door and grab the picnic blanket along with his composure. He knew she wanted him as much as he did her. Hunger was written all over her face, from her beautifully bruised lips, to her hard, tight nipples, right down to her glistening thighs. He barely kept his hands off her, but at this point he didn’t dare touch. He was about to embarrass himself like a schoolboy with his first crush.

Stepping away from Bev and the truck, he found a thick patch of spring clover and spread the red and white checked blanket. He sat on the edge and held out his arms. “Come here, darlin’.”

Her steps seemed hesitant. She continuously raised and lowered her hands in an effort to cover herself.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

A smile twitched at the corners of the mouth he wanted to taste again. She dropped her gaze as a blush warmed her skin. So very sweet.

“Let me hold you, touch you. I won’t do anymore unless you ask. Deal?” Crazy fool! Certifiable, that’s what you are. Truth was—he’d do anything to make her frightened expression go away.

Bev sat on the blanket and snuggled into his arms. Slow, they’d take it slow. Chad nuzzled her neck and was rewarded with a shudder as she tilted her head to allow better access. He ran his tongue in lazy circles inside her ear then blew softly and watched as her nipples hardened more. He brushed his fingers over the nubs, and her breath caught. She had passed this point. He drew her down to lie on her back beside him and kissed her tenderly, fighting to hold back the beast waiting to ravage her. Her fingers clutched in his hair and dragged his head to her breast.

He drew the tawny tip into his mouth and twirled his tongue around the areola repeatedly until Bev held his head in place, and then he sucked hard on the tight nipple. She moaned, and her pelvis lifted. Chad threw his leg over hers, letting her feel his weight and the throb of his cock while he trailed a path down the thin scar on her stomach to the apex of her thighs, cupping her damp mound in his hand.

She mewed and raised her hips, pressing into his palm. The scent of her arousal hung in the air like honeysuckle on an August night. His thumb stroked the tender, hidden bit of flesh until her clit stirred to life, and Bev panted and moaned.

Chad wanted to bury himself inside her and rock her until the world crashed around their joined bodies, but he’d made a promise.

Collecting some of the fluid freely weeping from his abused dick, he stroked through the folds to her entrance and dipped a finger inside. Jesus, she was tight! No way would he fit.

His finger thrusts were slow and deliberate. Sheath, circle, withdraw, and repeat, stretching her as best he could as his thumb continued to massage her clit. Sweat beaded on her skin, and he lapped it off, first from between her breasts then from the softness of her stomach. Finally he replaced his thumb with his mouth.

“Oh God!”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured against her flesh before inserting a second digit. She breathed in short pants when she remembered to breathe at all.

“Chad, please… I, I…stop!”

Chad froze, cursing himself for the fool he was. He’d hurt her, scared her—something. He rested his head on her stomach and waited.

“I need you in me.”

Chad raised his head to gaze at her. Her eyes showed resolve, not fear. He crawled up her body, worshiping every inch on his way to her mouth. He kissed her with all the hunger and fury he’d been holding back. Better to frighten her now than later.

She spread her legs under him, wrapping them around his thighs. “Please?”

He brushed the damp hair away from her face. “Are you sure?”

Her answer was to wrap her fingers around his shaft and guide him home. It took all the control he had to ease in inch by precious inch, like trying to put on a glove a size too small. He felt her muscles relax, the tightness lessen. Bev sighed and cupped his butt. Chad bent to kiss her, and she shoved him to the hilt. He devoured her lips, the salt of tears flavoring the sweetness of her mouth. He withdrew partially and then slowly slid back into her depths, trying to give her time to adjust. The battle was lost when Bev bucked under him.

“Move it, cowboy. I don’t intend to take this ride alone.” She smiled through her tears.

“I was planning on more than eight seconds, ma’am.”

“Don’t make me get my spurs. Ah, ah, ahhh…”