Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
THE RIGHT WRONG NUMBER
Texting the Handyman
by
LENA LITTLE
💖✨ Discover a love that sparks from a simple home repair! ✨💖
Meet Harvey Neil, the handyman who never expected to find his soulmate while fixing a washer. But when he meets the captivating Hailey Blake, everything changes. A flirty text reveals her true feelings, igniting a passion that can't be ignored.
I never expected to find the love of my life on a standard call to fit a washer, but the second Hailey Blake opened her front door, I knew she was meant to be mine. At first, I try to be professional, but the sparks between us are undeniable.
All my self-control goes out the window when she accidentally sends me a text meant for her friend, telling me just how attractive she finds me. Immediately, I head back to her place, needing to claim her like I wanted to all day.
There’s just one problem—Hailey’s manager.
Lucas clearly wants more from her than their professional relationship, and he despises my existence.
But nothing, not even an overbearing, jealous manager, will rip Hailey and me apart. Not if I have any say in it.
📱💖 One text can change everything! 💖📱
Texting The Handyman is a short, steamy, insta / OTT romance. Each book in the series can be read as a standalone.
No OM / OW drama and no cliffhangers. No ddlg kink.On-the-job romance. Always a sweet HEA!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
HARVEY
Idrain the last of my coffee as I pull up to the first job of the day, setting the empty takeaway cup back in the cup holder and promising myself I’ll remember to bin it before the end of the day, even though I always forget then curse myself the next morning. I stretch as I get out, my back popping as I inhale the fresh morning air, grabbing my toolbox out the back. This callout should be easy, just fitting a new washer for a new client, and the two other house visits I have booked for the rest of the day are relatively low maintenance, too.
I’m relishing in my excitement of an easy day as I stroll up to the door of a small bungalow that’s as sweetly decorated as the suburbs in a movie scene. The front garden is full of pink and yellow blooms, and there’s a flowery wreath on the front door that matches the pink welcome mat beneath my feet. I can’t help but be impressed at the level of coordination. I don’t think I’ve ever been that organized in my life.
Just as I’m about to raise my hand to knock on the door a second time, it swings open. For a second, all I can do is stare as the world ceases spinning around me. Standing on the other side of the door is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Forest green eyes framed by long black lashes stare back at me, blonde waves framing her stunning face, just begging for me to reach out and wind those strands around my fingers. She’s wearing a yellow flowy dress that has my mind spiraling to places I definitely can’t afford to think about if I have any hope of remaining professional.
Trying desperately to shove down my caveman instincts that have suddenly risen to the surface in this woman’s presence, I blink rapidly, as though she’ll stop being so fucking stunning.
The angel in front of me raises her brow and pouts her pink lips, putting a hand on her hip as she takes me in. “So, are you going to stand on my doorstep all day, or are you going to come in and fit my washer?”
That snaps me out of my haze, and I choke on a laugh. “Of course, apologies,” I say, smirking at her spark. God, this girl is something else. “I’m Harvey—”
“I assumed so, given you’re carrying a toolbox and your van says Handyman on the side of it,” the woman interrupts, her lips twitching in a barely suppressed, amused smirk. “I’m Hailey.”
Two can play at this game, Hailey, I think as I enter, closing the door behind me. “I assumed so, given you’re the one who hired me. I don’t just turn up at random people’s houses and offer to fit their appliances,” I tease back, catching her smirk breaking through fully before she turns away. I hope I’m not imagining the way her eyes roamed over me before she glanced elsewhere, as though she was checking me out just as much as I’ve been doing to her.
The inside of her home is just as vibrant and bright as the exterior implied, but it doesn’t feel overwhelming or cluttered. Instead, it reminds me of a curated art gallery, with all the colors and trinkets working together to create a space that feels undeniably welcoming. I’ve seen hundreds of houses and hundreds of clients, and none of them come close to the way Hailey shines.
When I turn around from inspecting her home, I find Hailey staring directly at me. I can’t help but smirk, the urge to give her the same sass back that she’s been so keen on giving me rising.
“So, you going to show me the washer, or are you just going to stand there checking me out all day?” I tease, relishing the way her cheeks go bright pink, and her green eyes widen comically.
She spins on her heel and marches off, leaving me to follow behind her, which is absolutely no hardship given how good her ass looks in that dress.
The washer is still in its box in the laundry room, likely where the delivery man left it. All her laundry powders and pods are set out on a shelf in glass bottles with handwritten labels, and I can’t help but chuckle at how different from my laundry room hers is.
“What are you, some sort of influencer or something?” I joke, gesturing to the aesthetic organization as I begin to rip the washer out of its packaging to fit it.
Though I can’t see her, I can hear the pure sass in her tone when she snipes back, “Yes, actually.”
“Damn, well, good for you,” I murmur, looking up at her from where I’m kneeling on the floor and desperately trying not to think about being on my knees for her in another context. “I’d be fucking awful at that job.”