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Fireman Dad (Love Inspired) by [Betsy St. Amant]

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Fireman Dad (Love Inspired) Kindle Edition

4.6 out of 5 stars 10 ratings

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About the Author

Betsy St. Amant has a heart for three things - chocolate, new shoes and sharing the amazing news of God's grace through her novels. She resides in Louisiana with her adorable, story-telling young daughter, a collection of Austen novels and an impressive stash of Pickle Pringles. Betsy has a B.A. in Communications, is multi-published in fiction and freelances for her newspaper. When she's not writing, she can usually be found somewhere in the vicinity of a white-chocolate mocha. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

As usual, Marissa Hawthorne was one knight short of a fairy tale.

She stared at the flat rear tire of her well–used SUV, as if her glare might somehow put more air into the rubber. "Great." Swiping a loose strand of blond hair out of her eyes, she let out a sigh. Just when she thought she'd finally adjusted to widowhood over the years—the empty right side of the bed, the leftovers from dinner, the struggles of single parenting—times like this highlighted the fact that she was truly alone.

Marissa tilted her head and studied the tire. She could probably figure out how to put on the spare, but she doubted her ability to jack up the car by herself. Not to mention the late morning Louisiana humidity had already sent a trail of perspiration down her back, despite the lingering remains of spring. At least she had made it to the parking lot of her event planning office, Your Special Day, before the mangled tire bent the rim and added that expense to the incident. She'd dropped Owen off at school and had turned on Spruce Street to head to work, when she felt the telltale thumping of the wheel.

Marissa braced one arm against the door of the hatch and briefly closed her eyes. Nothing to do but give it her best try—calling her dad was out of the question, nor did she want to shell out extra cash she didn't have to spare for a road service crew.

God, You know I don't ask for a lot of favors anymore. But can't I get a break? Just one? She opened the rear door and tugged at the flooring that covered the spare. Here went nothing.

"Need a hand?"

Marissa jerked upright at the deep voice breaking the silence of the parking lot. A tall, dark–haired man wearing jeans and black sunglasses strolled toward her. She'd been so caught up in her own turmoil she hadn't even heard his truck pull into a space across the lot. Marissa forced a smile, a polite no ready to roll off her lips, when the stranger whisked off his sunglasses. Pale blue eyes stared into hers, and her heart stuttered. The stranger's clean–shaven jaw broke into a smile that could have easily thawed winter's chill if the April sun hadn't already long done so. She opened her mouth, but couldn't find her voice.

"I'm Jacob Greene." He held out his hand and she shook it, mentally kicking herself for the distraction. He's only a man, Marissa, not a celebrity. Although he certainly could have been, with those chiseled good looks. In fact, he almost seemed familiar—but she couldn't place how.

She cleared her throat. "Marissa Hawthorne. I own Your Special Day." She released his hand and pointed to the store behind them.

"Then you're the lady I was coming to see." He smiled again, his teeth white and even against his tanned skin. His gaze drifted to her SUV. "And it looks like I was just in time."

You have no idea. Maybe God was still in the business of answering her prayers after all. Marissa smiled back. "I hate to play the damsel in distress, but I have to admit, this one has me stumped. I'd say I was having a Monday, if this wasn't Wednesday."

Jacob laughed. "I know what you mean. We all have those days." He easily removed the tire from the hatch and set it on the ground. "I can have you ready to go in a few minutes."

"I really appreciate it. It's not a big rush, since I'm already at work. I just need to be able to pick up my son later this afternoon from school." She pushed up the sleeves of her thin, peasant–style blouse, trying to force her eyes away from the tight lines of muscle in Jacob's arms as he worked the lug nuts loose on the flat.

Jacob's eyes darted to hers, then back to the tire as he worked. "That shouldn't be an issue. How old is your son?"

"Owen's seven." Marissa tugged absently at the necklace she wore every day—an amethyst symbolizing Owen's February birthday—her stomach churning at the realization of how quickly her baby boy was growing up. Time was flying fast—too fast. Kevin had been dead almost five years now, and she'd been back in her hometown of Orchid Hill, Louisiana, for a little over a year. Sometimes it seemed as if the last few years were nothing but a dream.

Sometimes a nightmare.

"I have a niece who is about to turn seven." Jacob wrestled the jack into place and began to hike up the SUV. He grunted with the effort. "She goes to Orchid Hill Elementary."

"So does Owen."

Jacob grinned. "Small world."

"I'm not sure about that, but it's definitely a small town." Marissa looked away, her fingers zipping over the necklace chain as she pretended to study something over her shoulder. Did he have any idea the effect of those dimples? They were downright dangerous.

She shouldn't notice such things. Dating was not a priority—Owen remained planted at the top of that short list, which meant work lingered a close second in order to provide for her son. Thankfully business had been good. At least the recession didn't seem to stop people from celebrating the milestones in their lives.

A familiar tsunami of regret washed over Marissa, mingling with the wind that teased the loose hairs from her hastily applied clip. Happy as she was with Owen, Marissa couldn't help the melancholy that sometimes took over when she was planning a wedding shower or anniversary party for a client. She and Kevin might not have had the happiest of marriages, and he might have put his firefighting career over his family to a fault— just like her father—but it was still hard to face the fact that she would likely never get to celebrate an anniversary again. As a single mom and a business owner, who had time for anything else?

She tore her gaze away from the navy T–shirt stretching across Jacob's broad shoulders. Nope, no point in noticing his dimples. Or his muscles. Or the way his dark hair curled over his forehead—

Marissa jerked as the wrench clattered to the pavement. Jacob removed the flat tire and began to assemble the spare. "Be sure not to drive on this thing for very long—or very fast. The last thing you want is a blowout."

"No kidding." Marissa shuddered. "Thank you again for your help. I'd have been stuck." If not physically stuck, then financially—or emotionally if she'd been forced to cave and call her dad to bail her out.

Jacob tightened the last of the lug nuts and stood, swiping his hands on the legs of his pants before placing the tools and the flat back into the hatch. "Think nothing of it. I'm glad to help a—what'd you call yourself? Damsel in distress?" He grinned, then shut the rear door and wiped sweat from his forehead with his shirtsleeve.

Marissa's business skills snapped back into effect at his tired gesture, and she motioned toward her office. "Come on inside, let me get you some water. It's the least I can do."

"That sounds good." Jacob fell into step beside her as they crossed the lot to her small, but functional, office space. He opened the door for her. "Ladies first."

Apparently chivalry wasn't dead in Orchid Hill, after all. Marissa thanked him and hurried to grab a bottle of water from the dorm fridge she kept beside her desk. She handed it to him. "Have a seat."

"Nice place." Jacob twisted the lid off the bottle and took a long sip as he looked around the open room, painted yellow with a mural of balloons and children on the far wall, and she couldn't help but warm at the compliment. He paused to touch the top of a bobble–head clown on the bookshelf that held party theme books. "Festive. Olivia would love that."

"Olivia?" His girlfriend, probably. Good thing she decided to put thoughts of his dimples far away. Marissa sat down behind her desk, grateful to be back on her own turf. She might not know anything about changing tires, but she knew party planning. Maybe she could offer Jacob—and Olivia—a discount for his help.

"Olivia is my niece." Jacob took the chair across from her desk and finished his water with a quick swig.

Niece. Not girlfriend. Marissa tried to ignore the relief that seeped into her stomach and nodded for him to go on.

"That's why I came to your store in the first place, actually," Jacob continued.

"So it wasn't because you received my desperate SOS signal?" Marissa grinned, then regretted the way her heart thumped when Jacob smiled back, dimples on high alert.

"I thought I heard something." He laughed. "Seriously, though, I was hoping to hire you to plan my niece's birthday party."

"Sounds good." Marissa flipped open her leather day planner and fanned through the pages. Hopefully he wouldn't choose the weeks coming up that she had blocked off for the upcoming fundraiser. A city budget cut had recently led to a decision to lay off six firemen, and members of Orchid Hill Church asked Marissa to organize a big fundraiser for the affected families. As the daughter of one fireman and the widow of another, Marissa could relate all too easily to the families involved and was glad someone had come up with a way to help.

Even if her father, Fire Chief Lyle Brady, wasn't nearly as thrilled by Marissa's participation.

Marissa tapped her calendar with her pen. "What date did you have in mind?"

Jacob offered a sheepish shrug. "That's where my next question comes in. It's sort of short notice."

Marissa looked up. "How short?"

"Less than three weeks away."

"How much less?" Marissa's eyebrows rose.

Jacob's lips twisted to the side. "Four days?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "The party is supposed to be in two weeks and three days?"

"Hey, you're quick with math." He winked, and her stomach flipped with regret at the thought of di...

--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Product details

  • ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0055PQQBW
  • Publisher ‏ : ‎ Love Inspired; Original edition (August 1, 2011)
  • Publication date ‏ : ‎ August 1, 2011
  • Language ‏ : ‎ English
  • File size ‏ : ‎ 358 KB
  • Text-to-Speech ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Screen Reader ‏ : ‎ Supported
  • Enhanced typesetting ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • X-Ray ‏ : ‎ Not Enabled
  • Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Sticky notes ‏ : ‎ On Kindle Scribe
  • Print length ‏ : ‎ 221 pages
  • Customer Reviews:
    4.6 out of 5 stars 10 ratings

About the author

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Betsy St. Amant Haddox is the author of over twenty romance novels and novellas. She resides in north Louisiana with her hubby, two daughters, an impressive stash of coffee mugs, and one furry Schnauzer-toddler. Betsy has a B.A. in Communications and a deep-rooted passion for seeing women restored to truth. When she’s not composing her next book or trying to prove unicorns are real, Betsy can be found somewhere in the vicinity of an iced coffee. She writes frequently for, a devotional site for women.

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