Somebody Like You (Darling, VT #1) by Donna Alward *Review*
kiss to last a lifetime
Aiden
Gallagher was only five years old when he appeared in a photograph on
the Kissing Bridge. The town of Darling, Vermont, has used Aiden’s
image on the famed bridge—local legend has it that a kiss there
results in everlasting love—as part of its tourism campaign. Now,
twenty years later, Aiden is asked to recreate the moment with the
woman he once kissed: Laurel Stone.
Recently
divorced, there’s nothing Laurel wants less than to pretend
happily-ever-after with Aiden. As teenagers, their romance was no
fairy tale—and Laurel has never quite forgiven Aiden for breaking
her heart. But now that she is back in her hometown, and keeps
bumping into police officer Aiden, Laurel can’t deny that there’s
still a strong flicker between her and her old flame. Could it be
that the Kissing Bridge is working its magic on Laurel and Aiden—and
that all true love ever needed was a second chance?
MY REVIEW
This is the first book by Donna Alward I have ever read but I will be looking into buying more of her books and I will be continuing into this series because I have to say that I very much enjoyed Somebody Like You.
The story is different from any other romance books I have read so far. The characters were realistic and I really did like Aiden and Laurel.
This is one that I will be keeping and most likely reading again in the future.
I give this book 4 out of 5
Excerpt:
By the time they were through, it was
nine o’clock and time to open. Being a Saturday, business was
brisk. Her dad dropped off the supplies and offered to stay to help
cover the tagging, but with the heavy shopping traffic, Laurel
decided to wait until things died down. For now the tarps covered the
tags, and she’d focus on her customers. Otherwise her anger would
get the best of her and that was bad for business. By six p.m.,
things had slowed considerably.
Laurel had been going flat out for ten
hours, stopping for only fifteen minutes to run to The Purple Pig for
a sandwich. Her stomach growled, her feet hurt, there was dirt
beneath her nails and she really, really wanted a shower and a glass
of wine—in that order. Laurel had just dragged out the hose to
water the fruit trees when a half- ton truck drove into the lot and
parked in an empty space.
The driver hopped
out, and her heart slammed against her ribs as she immediately
realized how she must look. Dirty jeans, mannish golf shirt that did
nothing for her figure,
scrubby ponytail through a Ladybug
Garden Center ball cap, and prob ably smudges of dirt on her face and
arms. Not that she was trying to look nice for Aiden or anything, but
it was him getting out of the truck, looking sexy as hell in faded
jeans and a T- shirt that stretched across
his chest and shoulders.
She could pretend
she hadn’t seen him. Resolutely she turned on the hose and started
watering the apple trees.
“Hey, Laurel,”
he called out, and that erased any hope of avoiding him.
She turned off the
hose and faced him. “Aiden. What brings you by? Looking for a shrub
or tree or something?”
Keep it
businesslike, she reminded herself. The last thing she needed was for
him to know that he had the ability to fluster her.
“I heard about
what happened.”
Of course he had.
“Don’t even.
I’m still pissed.”
“I know it’s
not what you needed. Did Crystal tell you that you weren’t the only
one hit?”
Crystal must be
the offi cer from this morning. “She did.”
“Well, that must
make you feel better.”
She stared at him.
“Better? Seriously? Since I opened a month ago, I’ve had to have
the driveway re- graded, I’ve had to replace shrubs that were
stolen from out front, deal
with a break-in and vandalism, and now
tagging. Trust me, Aiden, the only thing that would feel better is if
you actually did your job and found out who was doing this.”
She turned the
hose back on.
He waited. He
waited a long time. Several seconds, maybe thirty. Which was really
not that long at all but definitely felt that way. She was watering
the third tree when he sighed. “ You’re upset.”
“No shit,
Sherlock.”
He met her gaze,
and his eyes were soft, even though she’d basically just accused
him of not doing his job. The understanding she saw there made her
stomach churn. She didn’t want to lash out, but that was what she
did when she was hurt. Angry.
Stopping by was
kind and thoughtful. She kept trying to make him out to be a bad guy,
and he kept being nice. It definitely made it difficult for her to
hate him. Particularly since her biochemistry betrayed her at every
turn. Even now, when she was utterly preoccupied with the day’s
events, she seemed to notice everything. His hair, his eyes, the
breadth of his chest, the armband tattoo that looked like some sort
of Celtic braid, peeking just below the hem of his T- shirt sleeve.
The shape of his lips . . .
He muttered
something that was as creative a curse as she’d ever heard, and
sounded suspiciously Irish. She couldn’t help but laugh, and tried
to clamp her lips shut again. But not before he saw and heard, and
his eyes took on an impish gleam.
“ You’re not
fine. You’re tired and upset and rightfully so. You’re also just
as stubborn as you always were.” He put his hands on his hips. “I
take it you’re not adverse to help, just help from me in
particular.”
Her face heated.
Dammit.
“Maybe this
could be my penance,” he suggested, giving her a quick grin. And
she wished she could take him seriously, but he always seemed to be
teasing. It was one of the things she’d really liked about him and
hated at the same time. Particularly now, when she wanted to be, if
not mad, completely unaffected. And she wasn’t. He was trying to
cajole her out of her mood and it was working.
“It’s Saturday
night. Don’t you have a hot date or something?” She turned on the
hose again. Focused on the large plastic pot holding a cherry tree.
“Nope. Free as a
bird.”
Dammit again.
“Come on,
Laurel. Peace offering. Manual labor for you to stop hating me.”
She glanced over
at him. “Why do you care so much?”
He was quiet for a
moment, and to her surprise the teasing expression left his face.
After a while he answered, his voice a little lower. “I don’t
know why I care what people think so much. I always have. I don’t
like anyone to be mad at me. Maybe it has something with being one of
the younger siblings in the family. I don’t know. I just know that
I don’t like it that you’re still so angry.” His intense blue
gaze locked with hers. “It’s starting to become a personal
mission to win you over. To atone for past sins.”
“Good luck,”
she said dryly, more touched than she wanted to admit.
His boyish grin
was back. “Come on, Laurel. You know you can’t hold out forever.
You think I’m hot.” He had the audacity to wink at her.
She rolled her
eyes.
“You do. You
have a thing for gingers. And you have to admit, I grew up kinda
good.” His hands were still on his hips and he tensed his muscles
so that his shoulders and chest tightened beneath the thin T- shirt.
“I think you’re
a bit taken with yourself, to be honest,” she replied. And tried
not to smile. She didn’t want to be charmed, but he was
incorrigible.
“Laurel.”
Damn, his voice
was all silky- smooth now. “Yes, Mr. Narcissist?”
“You know damn
well you want to hate me and you can’t. Besides, I saw your face
just now. Maybe if I took off my shirt . . .”
“Would you like
to go somewhere private to be with yourself?” she asked, biting the
inside of her lip. She shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. And she
wouldn’t be, if she thought he was serious. But he was teasing her.
Like he used to do
when they were friends. And today . . . she swallowed against a ball
of emotion. Today she needed a friend, and all she’d had were well-
meaning customers.
She looked over at
him. “Jeez, Aiden. You’re looking a little flushed. I think you
could stand to cool off.” And before he could reply, she flicked
her wrist and aimed the spray of the hose right at the center of his
chest.
The abrupt shock
on his face was gratifi cation enough, but then he grinned and
reached to take away the hose. She danced away, still spraying him,
admiring how the shirt now clung to his skin and the little droplets
lit up his face and hair. A laugh bubbled up through her chest and
out her mouth as she darted around the trees, dragging the hose with
her. But there were too many pots and not enough room to maneuver and
within seconds he caught her, wrapped one strong arm around her and
wrenched the hose away with the other, spraying her in the process.
Cold water dripped
from her nose, down her neck, over her bare arms. Aiden held her
close against his body, close enough she could feel the hardness of
his muscles, and thrilled at it. Their breaths came fast, their
chests rising and falling with both laughter and the exertion of the
struggle over the hose. But it was the way he was looking down at her
right now that made her feel as if the lack of air was strangling her
lungs. All it would take was the tiniest move and he’d be kissing
her. Her gaze dropped to his lips— he’d always had fine lips—
and she swallowed, nervous and scared at her reaction and turned on
as hell.
She looked up,
which was a mistake. Because he was staring at her lips. And his arm
tightened just a little bit at the hollow of her back. Oh God . . .
A car horn honked
and Laurel jumped back. He let her go, but the gravity of the moment
remained.
Copyright
© 2017
by Donna Alward and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s
Paperbacks.
DONNA
ALWARD BIO:
While bestselling author Donna Alward was busy studying Austen, Eliot
and Shakespeare, she was also losing herself in the breathtaking
stories created by romance novelists like LaVyrle Spencer, Judith
McNaught, and Nora Roberts. Several years after completing her degree
she decided to write a romance of her own and it was true love! Five
years and ten manuscripts later she sold her first book and launched
a new career. While her heartwarming stories of love, hope, and
homecoming have been translated into several languages, hit
bestseller lists and won awards, her very favorite thing is when she
hears from happy readers!
Donna
lives on Canada’s east coast with her family which includes a
husband, a couple of kids, a senior dog and two crazy cats. When
she’s not writing she enjoys reading (of course!), knitting,
gardening, cooking…and is a Masterpiece Theater addict.
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