Can the grump get the girl to turn her sunshine his way?

Bragg’s Love is live. SQUEAL! Finally! I’ve been dying to share Miller and Eden’s love story with you. Especially since I’ve been teasing their story for a few books. Mwa ha ha!  

The Bragg Brothers are in Winter Falls to stay. No matter how much Eden may wish otherwise. And, oh boy, does she wish otherwise!!! Especially Miller Bragg – the king of grumps. 

Miller isn’t too happy with Eden now either. He may secretly dream of tasting her lips but those dreams won’t be coming true. 

Ah, isn’t the grump cute? He thinks he has a choice in his destiny. Not if I have something to say about it. 

Grab your copy if you like:

✔️ Grumpy sunshine romances

✔️ Enemies to lover stories

✔️ A grumpy hero who falls first

✔️ A hippie heroine who will do just about anything to resist love

✔️ Unputdownable fun

✔️A gang of elderly matchmakers who are too sneaky for their own good

✔️Witty banty that will have you laughing out loud

✔️ Quirky small-town romance

Chapter 1

Eden – a peace-loving hippie who’s having a really hard time remembering why violence is wrong

“Welcome to Eden’s Garden.” I smile at the tourists as they enter my store in Winter Falls.

“Eden’s Garden,” the man snickers.

I keep my smile firmly affixed to my face. I’m used to tourists making fun of my name and the name of my store. Yes, my name is Eden. And, yes, I own a plant store named after the biblical paradise.

But I won’t be kicking anyone out of my store for laughing at my name or the store’s name. I can’t. I need the business the tourists bring to keep my store afloat. Although, I’m barely afloat. More like bobbing up and down in the waves of the ocean hoping someone will throw me a lifeline.

“Can I help you?”

“I want to buy my girlfriend a bouquet of flowers,” the man says.

I don’t sell bouquets of flowers. I don’t sell cut flowers at all. Cut flowers are not sustainable and are therefore not welcome in town. As the first carbon neutral town in the world, Winter Falls takes sustainability very seriously.  

I don’t explain all of this to the tourists, though. They’re not interested in the traditions in Winter Falls despite being here to celebrate the festival of Imbolc. They’re here for fun, nothing more.

“Can I interest you in a potted plant?” I motion to the display at the window. “I have some lovely daffodils that will flower soon.”

The woman’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t want a plant. I don’t have a green thumb.”

The whole green thumb thing is a total misconception. There aren’t some people who are born better able to care for plants while others kill plants by merely looking at them.

Plant care isn’t magic. Magic doesn’t exist. If it did, I’d spell myself up some cold, hard cash.  

“There are care instructions included with each plant purchase. And you can always phone me with questions.”  

The woman grabs the man’s hand and leads him toward the door. “Let’s stroll around the town. Maybe there’s another better gift you can buy me.”

“Have a blessed Imbolc.”

My friend Soleil enters as they exit. “Hey, Eden,” she greets. “You ready to go to the diner?”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

All ready. No need to lock up and worry about whatever money’s in the cash register since there’s none in there. I haven’t made one sale yet today. The couple wasn’t the first tourists not interested in my potted plants this morning.

“What’s wrong?” Soleil asks.

I force a smile on my face. “Nothing. Why?”

“You look constipated.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Come on.” She bumps my shoulder. “Tell Soleil what’s wrong.”

“I haven’t made any sales this morning,” I confess before I can stop myself.  

Her brow wrinkles. “You haven’t? But you’re using my pots.”

I roll my eyes. “The plant is supposed to be the attraction, not the pot.”

Although her pots are gorgeous, since Soleil is an artist. She dabbles in many things – including knitting vibrator covers – but her pottery is her biggest success.

“I don’t understand how my pots without plants sell better than yours with the plants. My pots are literally made for your plants.”

She’s not exaggerating. We work together on the colors and shapes of the pots best suited to whatever plants are in season and then she makes the pots. It’s a great working relationship – assuming I could actually manage to sell some plants.

“Maybe you should sell the pots without the plants,” Soleil suggests.

I shake my head. “I’m not taking a cut of your profit.”

She checks her watch. “This is an argument for another day. I don’t have much time to congratulate Moon on the opening of her diner today. I have a pottery class kicking off in less than an hour. Let’s go.”

Despite my excitement for our friend Moon and her new restaurant, I’m not ready to give up on the argument. “But…”

The words die on my lips as I catch Miller Bragg marching by on the sidewalk. I don’t think so. Without realizing my feet are moving, I follow. This is all his fault. Him and the stupid brewery expansion. He couldn’t let it go?

Between the restaurant and the beer, Naked Falls Brewing earns plenty of money as it is. Why do they need more when some people are barely scraping by? I think of the empty cash register. Scraping by would be an improvement at this point.

“Hey!” I holler after him but with the crowds of the festival, he doesn’t hear me. There’s also a possibility he’s ignoring me. I wouldn’t put it past him. The man hates me.

I rush after him.

“Is this a race?” Soleil asks as she chases after me.

I’m too busy seething to respond to her. All of my problems – every single one of them – are Miller’s fault. My business is failing because of him. I’m done with him denying it. Today is the day he admits he’s a business killing asshole.

I follow him into the diner where he’s greeting Harmony with a hug. My friend giggles as he awkwardly pats her on the back. A ball of something ugly forms in my stomach. And, no, it’s not jealousy. I am not jealous of my friend.

What’s there to be jealous of anyway? I don’t want Miller. I don’t care how gorgeous he is with his thick, brown hair, warm whiskey-colored eyes, and those delicious muscles of his. He’s a grumpy jerk who’s ruining my life. He could be the model on the front of Brewer’s Weekly and I’d still want to kick him in the nuts. Hard.

I stomp toward them. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Uh-oh,” Harmony mumbles before stepping away from Miller and moving to stand next to Soleil. 

Miller frowns down at me. Considering our height difference, he has to look way down. Which only serves to piss me off more. I hate being the short one.

“You’re ruining my life,” I snarl at him.  

“You’re doing a damn good job of ruining your life on your own, flower girl.”

“Don’t call me flower girl.”

“What do you want me to call you? Flower child?”

“You asshole!”

“I’m not an asshole!”

“An asshole is an irritating person. You are irritating. And rumor has it you’re a person. Therefore, you are an asshole.” I poke his chest. Ow! It’s hard as granite.

“I’m tired of you blaming me for all of your problems. It’s not my fault the town agreed to the expansion of the brewery.”

I throw my arms in the air. “Of course, it’s your fault. There wouldn’t be an expansion of the brewery if you hadn’t applied for one.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and my eyes do not drop to follow how his biceps flex with the movement. And I certainly don’t lick my lips imagining how those muscles would feel in my hands.

“What is your problem with the expansion? It doesn’t encroach on your land.”

Thoughts of touching his muscles fly out of my head at his words. Does he never listen? Time to straighten him out.

“I’ve explained this to you a dozen times already. Do you have memory problems?”

Brody pops up behind him. I didn’t even notice his brother standing there. “He was dropped on his head as a child.”

A woman lets out a long-suffering sigh. “No son of mine was dropped on his head.”

Crap. Is this the mother of the Bragg brothers? Poor woman. Raising five hellions must not have been easy. Do I introduce myself? Probably not the best time considering I’m yelling at her son, but it’s not my fault her son is an asshole.

“We came here for Project Do Over, but the way things are going we need to switch to Project Enemy,” Sage comments.

How in the world did I miss Sage, the self-appointed leader of the town’s gossip gal gang, sitting there? In addition to being a nosy Nelly, she thinks she’s the best matchmaker this side of the Mississippi. No thanks. I have no interest in being matched with Miller.

Liar, my inner hussy calls. You want him to pick you up and push you against the nearest surface. Shut up, I tell her. You’re not the boss of me.  

I point at Sage. “There will be no matchmaking. Do you understand? I will not be a pawn in your game.”

“But will you be a pawn in Miller’s game?” Feather – another member of the gossip gals – asks.

I ignore her. I can’t with the gossip gals today. I just can’t. They’re crazy and annoying and interfering on the best of days. And today is not the best of days.

I return my attention to Miller. “The expansion will create a shadow over my garden.”

He scratches his neck as he considers his answer. “Not all plants need sun. Maybe you can re-arrange the plants in your garden.”

“Re-arrange my plants? Have you lost what’s left of your mind?”

He shrugs. “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“You wouldn’t,” I grumble.

“Um, Eden.” Moon – who I’m supposed to be congratulating on her new diner – approaches. “While I appreciate the show you’re giving my customers, I think it might be time to take this conversation elsewhere.” She thumbs her finger toward the gossip gals. “Somewhere private.”

“No need. There’s no talking with this neanderthal,” I say and stomp to the door. I stop with my hand on the doorknob.

“Congrats on your opening,” I tell her because I may be spitting mad but I’m not a bitch who fails to acknowledge her friend achieving all of her dreams.

Her boyfriend, Riley, wraps his arms around Moon’s waist and props his chin on her shoulder. My eyes shift to Riley’s brother, Miller. Knock it off, eyes. I don’t long for him.

“Thank you.” Moon smiles and waves me off.

I scowl at the grumpy brewer one more time before opening the door and marching away.