Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
But when Royal Peterson, a burnt-out corporate finance executive from Manhattan, stumbles into Windeville everything changes. Royal has just left his high-pressure job after a medical scare, unsure what his future holds or what kind of life he even wants. In the tiny town, everything feels painfully slow and too peaceful—two things Royal didn’t even know existed. But there’s something about the place, the history, its friendly people, the vibrant winter holiday decorations, that calls to his soul.
Stone isn’t the kind of man who fawns over the strangers who wander into town, especially not ones who look like Royal. Stone’s too rough around the edges, convinced he’s too old, too grizzled, too broken for someone as young and gorgeous as Royal. But when he sees the same sadness in Royal’s warm brown eyes that’s reflected in his own, Stone’s defenses began to crumble. Something about Royal’s vulnerability tugs at his heart in ways he can’t explain.
As Stone and Royal’s paths continue to cross in unexpected ways, they start to realize healing and loving aren’t always as complicated as they seem. But just as their bond begins to grow, Royal faces a difficult choice: does he stay in Windeville, with its peace and simplicity, or does he return to his fast-paced life, leaving Stone to face the cold, lonely winter nights once again?
Stone knows the sting of loss better than anyone, but can he risk letting love in, only to lose it again?
Cold Winter Nights is a heartfelt hurt-comfort story of second chances, and the unexpected healing that comes from opening your soul to someone who’s just as broken as you are.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Stone
The creaking of log cabin walls and the crackling embers of the fading fire in Stone’s fireplace were his daily alarm clock. He’d gotten used to getting out of bed on cold winter mornings, no matter how icy the floor would feel when his bare feet touched it, he was no longer fazed.
He released a long breath that misted in front of his face like a ghost as an involuntary shiver raced through him as he made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the tap for the hot water and waited for the steam to fill the room. The cold had taken care of the stiffness between his thighs and by the time he finished his shower his sexual needs would again be a distant thought.
After a long shower, Stone dressed in his usual thermals underneath his thick flannel shirt—the plaid pattern a patchwork of hunter green and burgundy. The scent of pine and timber lingered in the fabric no matter how many times he washed it. And lastly, he pulled on a pair of rugged denims with reinforced knees made to withstand the rigors of his day.
The scent of dark roasting beans from his coffee pot filtered down the hall towards his bedroom, and the thought of the hot brew spurred him into motion.
His kitchen took up twenty percent of the open floor plan, which was odd since he didn’t use it. A sturdy butcher-block island he’d made, dominated the center, the top covered with deep groves and indents from the weight of heavy tools rather than pots and pans.
The hulking beast of a stove sat dusty and untouched, the same as the cast iron pots hanging above it.
His husband had been the cook, not him. Dan used to say Stone would burn the place down if he even turned on the stove, and their cabin was made of enough wood to feed it.
He made himself a cup of black coffee and sat at the dining table that doubled as an office. His workplace had the best view in the world he thought as he stared out of the wide windows surrounded by thick wooden frames.
His backyard was a postcard of white with specks of green peeking from beneath the snow-topped branches of miles of pine trees.
He opened his laptop to check his email to see if there were any responses to the help wanted ad he’d run in the local paper last week.
Thankfully, he had eight applicants. The six regular guys he kept on year-round would need the help for the upcoming winter festival.
It was time to start chopping Christmas trees for the Daniels’ Evergreen Cove holiday display. He’d had the contract for years and always looked forward to how busy that job kept him. Not to mention Mrs. Daniel’s venison chili that she regularly dished out after his deliveries.
He responded to each of the applicants and requested they meet him at his woodshop in town at noon. If any of them couldn’t make it, they wouldn’t be hired. Stone was only interested in available, reliable help.
He had two orders for his woodwork business.
Big Chuck wanted him to make a coat tree for his wife as a Christmas gift. Aimee had sent him an image of a coffee table she wanted him to replicate but to also “put his own uniqueness to it” and the last order was a simple footstool for Jojo.
Damn, girl, another one.
Joanne, nicknamed Jojo, worked mornings at the Cedar Pines Bed and Breakfast and was no taller than four-foot-ten and a hundred pounds soaking wet. She needed a footstool for every room in her house and place of employment.
Stone accepted all of them, and replied he’d come by later to get the details and provide a quote.
Before he could close his laptop, a OneDrive popup showed in the right corner of his screen.
A memory from 10 years ago, today.
He choked on his breath as the words pulled him down like a hidden rip current.
The thumbnail image wasn’t just any photo—it was one of their photos.
He could see Dan’s bright smile and his curly light brown hair he could never tame no matter how much product he used. Stone could still remember how comforting it was to run his fingers through it, the way the silken hairs of Dan’s thick beard would tickle his throat when they nestled together to watch television.
The photo had been taken the weekend they’d gone to Dan’s family estate in Williamsburg, Virginia. His folks had been vacationing in Europe, and they’d had the sprawling property all to themselves.
His parents would’ve been disgusted at some of the surfaces they’d made love on.
A lump formed in Stone’s chest so large he thought he was having a panic attack. It’d been eight years, and he still missed him so damn much he worked himself to the bone every day so he’d be too tired to think about it.