When aid workers Will, Melanie, and Jon find themselves tangled in an incident with devastating consequences, throwing them into a world of chaos and despair. Can their loved ones help them find their way back to life?
Rescue is the final book in this series of interconnected novellas.
Jonathan
I’m doing everything to move on from what has happened. Taking a break, tick. Therapy, tick. But the nightmares just won’t go away. Trying to survive on barely any sleep, no wonder I have turned into a grumpy recluse.
The last thing I need is the chipper Bed & Breakfast owner who thinks her muffins (not a euphemism) can make every day a glorious one. I try to avoid her as best as I can, but she is convinced that fresh air and laughter are just what will rescue me.
These novellas are interconnected but can be read standalone.
The book is written in British English and includes adult content. Please read the trigger warnings.
To every lonely heart: Never forget, sometimes fate sends you a farting dog to lead you to love
We meet Nancy, although this isn’t my first encounter with her. If you have read Dani’s books before you may have also met Nancy in the Aftermath series. Nancy and her sister both seem to like the grumpy loner guys lol. But you do not have to read the Aftermath series to enjoy this book, it’s just a nice little connection to another series. Probably my favorite thing that authors do is leave clues from other books they have written. Definitely a grumpy/sunshine novella, with a secret identity twist.
Working from home can have its perks like working in your pajamas, but it can feel a little lonely at times always being at home.
I enjoy my own company, I really do, but lately I have started to notice the silence more than I’m used to.
I glance at the article again, my brain already working. A rambler group in our small village. Could it really work?
Did anyone else not know what a Rambler group was beforehand? No? Just me? Okay. I thought it was going to be like a gossip group or something not walking. Love learning new British words for things.
Nancy decided to start The Ramblers of St. Claire walking club. Not the biggest turn out for the first Ramblers meeting, Mrs. Higgins came and brought her biohazardist dog and the new resident Luke after being somewhat pushed into going.
Luke thought that moving to St. Claire would be a good place to escape the noise from the city but he only traded it in for nosey neighbors and the never ending gossip. He also thought that moving here would give him inspiration for his next crime novel that is way behind schedule. Little did he know that the Ramblers- Nancy would change his mind about their little town. Her sunshine is hard to say no to.
Then, softly she says “I think I like Luke Evens”
And just like that, the walls I’ve spent years building crack a little more
Then, softly he says “You’re my muse, Nancy”
My breath catches.
His voice is steady now, certain. “You’ve given me something I didn’t realize I’d lost.” His fingers drum lightly against the desk, like he’s searching for the right words. “Joy. Light. A reason to actually get up in the morning instead of just existing.”
Something presses against my ribs, something terrifyingly warm.
“I want to see where this goes,” he continues, his dark blue eyes locking onto mine. “Because I’m not done. Not with you. Not with this.” He swallows. “I want more of your joy in my life. And maybe… one day…you’ll find me worthy of your love.”
My body is making it abundantly clear that sitting at a desk for hours on end, fueled by caffeine and optimism, is not a long-term fitness plan
But it could be, just kidding. I also spend all day at a desk and 100% live off coffee. I probably have like three cups (but really like 6) a day. It doesn’t help that the coffee station at work is right beside my desk.
In my experience, people always feel the need to fill every second of silence with irrelevant chatter, and that’s just not me.
I’ve spent years carving out my own space, setting into my own ways, building walls that keep everything at arms length.
That’s how I like it. That’s how I work.
And yet-
Nancy glances at me again, her expression unreadable
For a second, I just stare.
Because I’ve been thinking about her. More than I should be. More than I normally let myself think about anyone.
I don’t know how to do this.
I don’t know how to sit across from someone, lay myself bare, and hope they don’t look at me differently afterward. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of keeping people at arm’s length. It’s safer. Easier. Less messy
But she’s here. Still here.
And for the first time in a long time, I want someone to see me properly.
So, I try
This! Opening up to someone is never easy, I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’m lucky in a way that I was able to open up to my best friend slowly over time about who I was, what I liked and how weird I am. She took me in with open arms and we haven’t looked back. But even with my husband I still have a hard time opening up. Plagued by doubt, self hate and a let down to most or people ended up leaving. It’s always in the back of my head but he has proven time and time again how much he loves me for who I am and not the things I can do or provide
✨💜Tropes💜✨
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