Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Rough Patch - Coming Home to the Mountain |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Frankie Love |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | B09QPDLKDZ |
| Book Information: | |
Reuben gets his second chance at love, with his daughter Plum at his side. My wife died in a tragic accident when our daughter was just a year old. After losing her, I never thought I would love again. It’s been four years and my little girl is my whole world now. When I meet Meadow, a musician in a traveling band, my heart grows in ways I didn’t think possible. I can see it all -- a life with this fair-haired beauty who sings songs that sweep me away. I’d forgotten how good life could be. Meadow reminds me that there is more beauty to be seen. More living to be had. But she is just passing through Home, WA. Her family has been on the road together for years and they need her. Walking away from her life for us is more than I can ask. Losing her is more than my heart can bear. I don’t want her to choose -- but damn, I want her to stay. Coming Home to the Mountain is a new filthy-sweet, high heat series by Frankie Love featuring rugged mountain men who fall hard, fast and forever. And with the women they love at their side, they choose to put family first. In this series, Dad shows up, sisters remember to call, big brothers always look out for you, and Mom knows to keep an extra seat at the table for Sunday dinner. Not every family is perfect -- and the Rough family has its own set of problems -- but at the end of the day, they know what matters: Coming Home. | |
| Books by Author: | Frankie Love |
1
REUBEN
The morning got off to a rough start.
Plum's chickens escaped the coop, sending us on a wild goose chase. Eventually we got them all back in their pen, but it got us off to a late start on our Sunday afternoon bike ride. We're trying to make traditions, or at least stick with the ones we have, Taco Tuesday, Sunday bike rides, and Friday movie nights, but it isn't as simple as it sounds. It feels like one of us is always in a mood. Either Plum is tired and cranky or I am.
And half the time it takes all my effort just to do the damn thing. That might sound bad. I love being a dad to my five-year-old daughter Plum, the literal light of my life, but still—being a single parent is hard. That's why I'm surprising Plum with ice cream.
As we finish the loop on Tender Trail, we pass my sister Lemon's house. She lives there now with her husband, Anchor, but I'm wondering if they're going to build something bigger in the mountains. It would be a shame if she sold Grandma's place, but maybe someone else in the family will buy it. It's got to stay in the family. Lemon's not outside though and so we keep pedaling past her place, the clinic, and then we turn in front of the diner.
"What are we doing here, Daddy?" Plum asks as I get off the bike, kicking it to stand before I unbuckle her from the seat behind me.
"I thought maybe we could get milkshakes and burgers."
"Really?" Her face lights up. She has untamed, curly hair, big brown eyes the color of chocolate milk, and freckles all over her face. I set her on the ground, and then I take her hand.
"Yeah, with all that drama with the chickens this morning, I figure we put in some hard work. We just can't eat too much and lose our appetites for Sunday dinner tonight with the family."
She smiles. "Grandma told me she's going to make pasghetti and meatballs."
"Lucky girl," I say. "It's your favorite."
She smiles as I pull open the door to the diner. The bells jingle as we walk inside.
We're quickly ushered to a table, and I see familiar faces everywhere. Some locals give Plum a wave and nod to me. I've lived in this place my whole damn life. Home is truly where the heart is. But to be honest, I'm not sure if that phrase is completely accurate.
Plum is where my heart is.
We slide into a corner booth with a perfect view of the street. Outside on the city sidewalk of Home there are giant planters filled with perennials. Baskets are hanging with overflowing flowers on the lampposts and cars are parked along the street, giving the town an atmosphere of busyness. I suppose everyone's out doing their errands on the weekend or treating themselves to something with the day off, just like Plum and me.
“So,” I say, "what are you having?"
She grins. "Cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry shake."
I chuckle. "Wow. Sounds like you're hungry."
"I worked up an appetite, Daddy."
"Yeah. Hard work, sitting pretty on that bike?"
She smiles. "I can ride a bike though," she insists.
"Oh, I know you can, but it's nice that we can ride together sometimes too."
The waitress takes our order and when the food arrives, we both dig in. “So, do you have anything on tap for the week?" I ask her. I try to talk to her like she's a person, not a kid, but I'm not sure that's what you're supposed to do.
"I have school," she tells me. "And a play date on Tuesday, remember, with Marie?"
"I remember," I say. "And your grandma's going to babysit on Saturday. Your Auntie Fig told me they've got a big plan for you."
"Really?" she says. "What's the plan?"
"I guess you'll have to ask them tonight at dinner."
She beams back at me, dipping her fry in ketchup. "What's that?" she asks, pointing out the window. "Those are RVs," I say.
"RV?" she asks, confused.
"Yeah. They are recreational vehicles." Her face crunches up even further in confusion. "People live in them. It's like a house on wheels," I tell her as two pass through the narrowest streets of the city. "I wonder where they're headed," I say.
On the back of the first one, there is a painted peace sign. On the side of them both, there are words painted, The Wild Family Band. They're both completely covered in murals. I smile at the rainbows painted on them, the clouds, and the birds. "They're so pretty," Plum says. "Maybe we could paint something like that."
"You want to paint my truck with rainbows and hearts?"
She smiles. "Maybe I could use my sidewalk chalk on it," she says.
I chuckle. "I think you can do chalk art on the driveway."