I nod. "A few times."

"I’m going there tomorrow. I just got in last night."

"Have you ever been to Alaska before?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "You live here long?"

"About five years," I tell her. "What's your name?"

"Juniper. Juniper Jones."

"That's a nice name. It sounds familiar."

She smiles. "I get that a lot. What's your name?"

"Jacob Whitaker," I tell her. "Hey, do you want to come over for dinner? I happen to have all of this food and I thought I could cook you something."

She laughs. "Let me guess, you live in some cabin all alone in the middle of the woods?"

I run a hand over my beard. "Yeah. Now that you put it like that, I realize how creepy that invitation sounds."

She smiles. "Do you want to meet at a restaurant in town for dinner?" Her voice is playful, and I appreciate it.

"Sorry, I haven't done this in a long time. I haven't done this since ..." I swallow. "Dinner in town sounds fucking great. And I must be really liking you considering I never go into town two times in the same day.”

"Wow. I must be someone special," she says, exaggerating her voice.

"You are," I tell her. Honest. Plain. True. "You are someone special, Juniper Jones. Her cheeks go pink and damn, it's cute. "There are only a few nice places to eat in town. The restaurant inside the Icicle Inn is one of them.”

Juniper’s eyes light up. “Perfect. That’s where I am staying.”

“Do you want to meet at the Icicle Inn at 6:00?" I ask her. "I'd say we could go eat now, but I've really got to get these groceries back home before ..." My words trail off, and she fills in the rest of my sentence.

"Before your four different kinds of ice cream melt?"

I laugh. "Exactly."

She smiles. "That sounds great, actually, Jacob."

"Alright, Juniper,” I say. "I guess I'll see you then?"

"It's a date,” she says. She licks her lips. "So, bye?" She gives me the tiniest wave; her fingers are delicate. She looks so beautifully put together and polished. So lovely.

My eyes are captivated. My heart is too. I walk away from her, hating that I am. But she's moved on.

She's left the store, and I have groceries to purchase and items to pick up from the post office.

And hell. I guess I have a date to get ready for.

A date tonight, with Juniper Jones.

2

JUNIPER

Okay. So, this plot twist was unexpected, like absolutely, entirely not in my wildest dreams.

I did not come up to Polar Bear, Alaska, to meet some wild, feral mountain man. I came up here for research. Research on polar bears for my upcoming fantasy romance novel – the seventh book in my fully developed series which shouldn’t require much research but I hit a brick wall. I needed inspiration.

I was thinking inspiration in the form of polar bears, not in the form of Jacob Whitaker.

Of course, there are wild, untamed men in this romance novel. So, technically, this man I just came upon who looks exactly like the hero I was dreaming about – and by dreaming I mean drooling, fantasizing, making imaginary montages in my mind – when he stopped me in the grocery store and actually started talking to me, I was a bit stunned.

See, I thought I already knew him because I've been having imaginary conversations with this character in my mind for the last year and a half. I've been plotting this book for so long that this hero is basically already lifelike.

And he, this Jacob Whitaker, is that hero in human form, flesh, and bones, and muscles, so. many. muscles. I could practically see them coming out from the seams of his flannel shirt.

His legs are thick, and strong, and sturdy. And that might be a strange way to describe a grown man's legs, but believe me, they are solid. The kind of legs that could pick you up by the waist and hold on tight. The kind of legs that you could wrap yourself around as he swings you around the room, presses you against a wall, and does, well, all the things I write about.

So, when I saw him in that little Podunk grocery store while I was browsing, let's just say I got butterflies in my belly, which is a polite way of saying my panties were ruined because, yes, he got me all hot and bothered. Wet and wasted. He is everything I've been writing about: tall, strong, handsome, a man with an appetite.

I bite my lips as I walk away from the grocery store, wishing I had a reason to go back but not trusting myself to do so. Because if I did, I would basically be following him around as he pushed that cart full of cheese and dairy products like a love-struck fool. He would probably pull back his offer for dinner because he'd think I turned into a stalker in about three minutes flat.


Tags: Frankie Love Romance