Hard to Get Over

by Jenny Gardiner

  Table of Contents

  What people are saying about Jenny Gardiner's books:

  Hard to Get Over

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thank you!

  Hard to Get By | Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  About Jenny

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  Also By Jenny Gardiner

  What people are saying about Jenny Gardiner's books:

  RED HOT ROMEO

  “Awesome". So enjoyed the romantic chemistry between the two characters. Read it non stop into the wee hours. Highly recommend this book

  —Mrs. K

  Blue-Blooded Romeo

  "Another brilliant, fun read from Jenny Gardiner. The book is fun to read and I thoroughly enjoyed every word. Jenny Gardiner has put the fun back into romance books and I look forward to each book in this delightful series.”

  —Anne Blyth

  “I had planned on only reading a few chapters at first but couldn't put it down. A terrific storyline, well-developed and extremely relatable characters, what's not to love?? Great read!”

  —Samantha Reeves

  Big O Romeo

  “I could not put this book down. Warning don't start this book late at night as you will not want to stop reading.

  —Di

  Sleeping with Ward Cleaver

  "A fun, sassy read! A cross between Erma Bombeck and Candace Bushnell, reading Jenny Gardiner is like sinking your teeth into a chocolate cupcake...you just want more."

  —Meg Cabot, NY Times bestselling author of Princess Diaries, Queen of Babble and more

  Slim to None

  "Jenny Gardiner has done it again—this fun, fast-paced book is a great summer read."

  —Sarah Pekkanen, NY Times bestselling author of The Opposite of Me

  Hard to Get Over

  (Book Three of the Hard to Get Series)

  by Jenny Gardiner

  COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY Jenny Gardiner

  Cover art by Kim Killion, The Killion Group, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  http://jennygardiner.net/

  Chapter One

  THERE’S NO SUCH THING as a good funeral, but if there were, Daphne Sweeney would give herself a tiny pat on the back for having executed it. After spending years as a daily lifeline to her elderly neighbor Violet Nicholson, it fell to Daphne to organize the final memorial for Violet, who apparently left behind no living relatives and a smattering of friends. Violet had passed in her sleep at the age of ninety-two, and Daphne took no pleasure in being the one to find her that morning. Still, she was relieved that Violet likely hadn’t suffered. It was her first encounter with a dead person and a little unsettling for sure. But she immediately took control of the situation, had the appropriate authorities declare Violet officially expired, and planned the service, which was only attended by a few neighbors who knew her from when she’d sit on the porch stoop and wave to passersby, before she got too old and weak and the task became too onerous.

  It was a sobering lesson for Daphne, who’d become a bit too much of a homebody over the past couple of years, working at home as a graphic designer since all of her customers were online. Not having to go to an office sounded perfect, but in reality, she’d lost touch with too many people. Instead of taking time off at the end of the workday, she discovered herself working more waking hours than she should. Her personal life—which, let’s be honest, was nonexistent anyhow—and her work life had blurred into one. Seeing how Violet died alone was eye-opening: did Daphne want to stumble along into old age, becoming a shut-in, friendless and loveless, void of any romantic relationship, married to her job rather than a man who cared about her? Violet had never been married and had relied on her sister for companionship until she’d passed away a decade earlier. Was that what Daphne had to look forward to—a gaping maw of loneliness?

  Not that Violet had always been lonely—Daphne knew that before she’d become too infirm, Violet had played canasta with a local group on a regular basis. She took daily walks through the neighborhood, waving at all the neighbors. Sometimes she’d hire a taxi to attend concerts at the Kennedy Center or visit the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery when she really got wild.

  Over the years, Daphne grew to love Violet like the mother she’d lost as a teenager. And she cared for her as she would have her own. She brought meals to her most days and sat with her over coffee as they lamented the state of the world today, and Violet reassured her that things were always bad on some level and not to fret about it too much. They’d watch movies or Netflix or play Scrabble, which Violet always won, and it would be almost like a date, minus the making out and heavy petting. Heavy petting. Daphne rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten what that even was. Except when it came to her white Labrador, Tortellini, who was the love of her life and deserved lots of petting. She’d heavy-pet Tortellini to the moon and back.

  Heaving a heavy sigh, Daphne resolved to do something about the fact that she did nothing and her life was an empty void.

  Well, maybe tomorrow.

  IT WASN’T A BUT A WEEK or so after the memorial service that Daphne got the letter in the mail.

  My dearest Daphne,

  I hope you realize that you have been like a daughter to me for many years, and I have been forever grateful for your willingness to amuse this old gal and treat me like family. For all intents and purposes, you have been my only family, but for a second nephew twice removed or some such nonsense. I never could get those things right. Maybe he’s a grandnephew? One of those things. I was prepared to leave quite literally everything to you, however I made a promise long ago to my sister that I would include him as a beneficiary of my estate upon my death. She said he’s a wanderer and she worried he was too broke to settle down.

  My largest asset is this duplex that you’ve been renting from me for the past however many years. I know you’ve worked hard to sock away money to eventually buy a place, but I’d like you to stop worrying about that. So, I am leaving the entire contents of my life to you, and the actual home to both you and my grandnephew, or whatever he is to me. I’ve hardly seen him for years, so I’m sure he will be happy to do whatever you’d like as far as the property is concerned. I’m only including him to appease my beloved sister. Plus, I’ve heard he’s grown into a handsome young man. You know you could use a handsome young man in your life.

  Daphne laughed. It was so like Violet to try to matchmake even beyond the grave. Try as she might over the years, never once did any of her many fix-ups stick. Always some friend’s grandson or nephew, or so-and-so said someone at canasta knew a handsome young man and did anyone know of a girl who might want to date him? Daphne humored Violet by going along on the mostly awful set-up dates. Gave her a chance to try a new drink at a bar or a restaurant she’d been meaning to check out. But usually, the guys were duds. As this one would be, no doubt.

  I have left instructions with my
attorney to reach out to you both. He’ll help you do what’s needed so you no longer have to rent and can finally become a homeowner. Always remember, I love you, Daphne. You’re the daughter I never had.

  Much love,

  Violet

  Daphne gasped. Violet had left the bulk of the estate to her? That was far too generous. How could she accept it? But with Violet gone, how could she not? She looked around her place. All these years it felt like a place where she was parking her things, not a home in which to grow roots. But now she could own it outright, and it would be her real forever home. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. It was starting to look like tomorrow was finally here: she could get her act together and start living her best life.

  Chapter Two

  BRADY MCGOVERN WAS giving some real thought to settling down. Sometime soon. And why not now? He’d been wandering for a long time. Traveling, picking up odd jobs, traveling some more. Returning home to Seattle every now and then to see some friends, but never feeling a strong enough pull to stay there. With his parents gone and no siblings, it wasn’t quite the same.

  Frankly, the itinerant life wasn’t abnormal to Brady. Having grown up in a military family, he never did feel particularly planted anywhere. With one year here, two years there, he got to enjoy living abroad, which was cool, but he also never experienced continuity, which was tough as a kid. The longest time he stayed in one place was during college in North Carolina. Four years in Chapel Hill was great but more than enough time in one town.

  He’d taken off the day after graduation. His only regret was flaking out on a girl he’d recently started dating. Never even told her goodbye, just left. He figured it was easier that way. It wasn’t like they’d been serious or anything, anyhow. He needed the freedom of the open road, no ties holding him back. At first, he wandered around the States, camping and hiking in national parks. He even set about to hike the tallest mountain in each state. It took him two years, but he did it. Just in time to learn that his parents had died in a small plane crash. He’d never had a chance to say goodbye.

  That hit him hard. Afterward he took off for parts unknown. Bought a plane ticket to India and went from there to a number of continents over the next several years. Sure, insurance money from his folks’ estate gave him the luxury of wandering aimlessly. And for a while it helped him to seek out the rest of the world, to try to make sense of it all having gone sideways for him.

  He was in line waiting to board a flight to London when he glanced down at his phone and noticed an email from some law firm, which was weird, because it wasn’t like he dealt with attorneys for anything.

  He opened the email and scanned it quickly before boarding the plane, where he’d lose the Wi-Fi. His eyes scanned the words. Great-Aunt Violet. Property in Washington, DC area. She was leaving it to him and some woman who rented half of the place from her to divvy up however they saw fit. Huh. Weird. He vaguely remembered meeting her. Was she like his mother’s aunt’s sister or something like that? Hell, he had no idea. Growing up, he and his folks were never around enough to spend time with family.

  The gate person announced the final boarding call and Brady stuck his phone in his pocket. He’d deal with that later.

  TWO WEEKS LATER, IT was wheels down at Washington Dulles airport. He intended to check out this windfall he hadn’t expected. The attorney had sent him the key and the address and he was now in an Uber on his way to the house. He figured he’d spend a couple of days meeting with folks about unloading the place—properties in the DC area were selling like gangbusters—and get on the road as soon as it was all under control.

  By the time he arrived at the house, the sky was darkening. A light drizzle came down as he exited the Uber. Approaching the house, he stumbled on some broken piece of concrete on the walkway. He squinted and gave the place a long look. Huh. It was like two identical houses in one. One side was pitch black; the other had lights on. He turned on the light on his phone to avoid any more tripping hazards and arrived at the door, dropping his heavy backpack on the ground with a thud. Grabbing the key from his pocket, he fumbled around to fit it into the deadbolt keyhole.

  When at last he got the key in and turned the lock, the porch light of the adjacent home came on and a dog barked.

  “Who are you?” came a stern, accusatory female voice behind him.

  He jiggled the key out as he opened the door.

  “Oh hey, I’m Violet’s, well, Violet was my, well, some sort of aunt,” he said, turning around and reaching out his hand. “Brady. Brady McGovern. And you are?”

  The woman did a double-take and then for a long, awkward beat stared at him, wide-eyed, decidedly not extending her hand. The cute dog happily licked it, however, until she pulled the animal away.

  “Brady McGovern?” She squinted, then snarled her lip. If she were an apex predator, he’d be worried she was going to pounce. And not in a good way. “As in Brady-the-dirty-ratfink-who-evaporated-into-thin-air-the-day-after-graduation-McGovern?”

  He lifted a brow. Huh. That didn’t sound so good. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, not even noticing until then that he’d still had them on. No wonder it was so damned dark. And then he finally saw who was standing in front of him.

  “Uh, Daphne?” He frowned. Daphne was her name, wasn’t it? Right—Daphne Sweeney. What were the chances the woman he’d dumped when he left to check out of the real world would be the person he apparently had to sell this place with? Smiling, he went in for a hug, arms outstretched. “Hey! Daphne! Great to see you!”

  She stood stock-still, her arms tightly pressed to her sides. Clearly no hug was imminent.

  “Great to see you? Are you freaking kidding me? I can’t think of anyone I’d rather not see at this very minute. Or any other time, for that matter.”

  The cute dog came and jumped up against his chest, licking his face. At least somebody was glad to see him. He’d take advantage of a warm reception from any creature with a pulse and scratched the dog’s head and ears.

  “Look, Daph—”

  “Don’t ‘Daph’ me.”

  “I’m sorry, Daphne.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s late. I’m tired. I’m on Greenwich Mean Time or something like that. Looks like we’ve got some figuring out to do. What say we meet over coffee in the morning to come up with a game plan?”

  She glared at him. “Yeah, right. Last time I had plans to meet with you the next day, I never saw you again.”

  He shook his head. Damn, even angry, she was a sight for sore eyes. From where he stood, she looked even hotter than she did in college. Tall, with an athletic build, gorgeous set of tits, and a tight little butt, she was stunning even in shorts and a thin tee. Despite being filled with fury at the moment, her blue eyes were still mesmerizing, kind of sexier when pissed off. And that curly, long black hair of hers—he remembered how it felt as his fingers twined through her hair when she went down on him. Well, shit. Maybe that was the wrong thought because now his cock swelled in his pants. Not quite the greeting she was looking for, no doubt. Hmmm... in hindsight, maybe having ditched her like that was a mistake.

  “Can we talk about this later? I’m beat and need some shut-eye. We can figure out selling this thing in the morning. I’m thinking we can have it on the market in a couple of days. I did a little research. The market’s superhot here right now. We’ll be good to go and then I can get out of your hair.” Even though the idea of tangling his fingers in that hair again sure sounded like a great diversion.

  She crossed her arms across her chest. Her shapely chest that he was struggling not to stare at. “Excuse me? On the market?”

  “Well, yeah. We have to sell this thing. No point in keeping it.”

  She gave him one of those “are you a fucking idiot?” looks, her eyes squinted, her brow knit tight. “I beg to differ. This is my home, little runaway. You might not understand the value of home, but I certainly do, and this is where I am planting my roots.”

 
Brady scratched at the two-day-old scruff on his face. He needed a bite to eat, a stiff drink, and a bed. The last thing he needed was some pissed-off ex flipping her shit on him right now.

  “Okay, well. Huh. Yeah. Um. So. Well. I’m gonna go to bed now and we’ll talk tomorrow.” He grabbed his backpack and pushed it into the foyer. “Good night, Daph.”

  As he turned to go inside, he saw her stick her middle finger right up in his line of vision.

  Well, crap. This wasn’t going to be the cakewalk he’d presumed after all.

  Chapter Three

  “GET OVER HERE, TORTELLINI, you Benedict Arnold.” Daphne tugged on the dog’s hot pink martini glass collar she so loved, pulling her pup back inside and away from the bad, bad man. She always made sure the dog was wearing that collar when she poured herself a happy hour cocktail. After all, it was better not to drink alone, and that way her dog had a glass too. How’s that—her own dog betraying her by welcoming that awful man? She could hardly believe her disloyal dog dared even lick the hand of that rat bastard. Frankly she should’ve bitten it in defense of her owner.

  We’ll talk tomorrow. He had some nerve. Talk tomorrow. As if he didn’t blow out of town like an Alberta clipper that dumped a pile of snow and was gone in an hour. Only at least those weather systems left behind something useful, so maybe you could make a snowman or go sledding. Whereas all he left behind was an embittered young woman who’d felt used and discarded and never understood what she’d done to deserve it. How on earth could that man be related to sweet, lovable Violet? It seemed impossible. And what did this mean? Would she have to deal with this traitorous jerk now? What if they had conflicting ideas about the property? He’d said something about the market being hot and selling it. But he’d better get used to the idea that she was keeping it. End of story. Violet’s letter said whoever this nephew guy was would do whatever she wanted. She hadn’t considered that the biggest asshole around would show up on her doorstep wanting to unload the place. Her home. Her home. She could not let Brady McGovern get the upper hand and sell the place out from under her, leaving her homeless. In a hot market, she’d not even be able to buy something else with whatever proceeds she ended up with. And then where would she be?