Ready for a road trip?

Hi there,

Last week I magically managed to send my newsletter at the same time as a big Amazon outage. Fingers crossed this one works! How’s your Thursday going so far? I’ve become an incubator for every germ in the vicinity and am coughing and sniffing my way through March… 🤧 

One of the wonderful things about writing is how it can take you to a different place, one with sun, romance, and absolutely no sneezing! I really enjoyed writing Road Trip with the Guy Next Door. Tania and Mitchell are very different, but they have way more in common than they think. It takes their trip together to make them realize that and fall in love, although there are definitely some wrong turns along the journey! Sneak peek at Chapter 1 below…

Chapter 1 - Tania

The lemon glaze is too runny. 

“It'll tighten,” Juniper says from across the prep counter, not looking up from her piping bag. She has the unshakeable confidence of someone whose glazes wouldn’t dare misbehave. I add more powdered sugar and stir. Eventually, the glaze decides to cooperate.

On a Friday morning in March, Buns N Roses smells of warm butter and brown sugar just starting to catch at the edges of the back oven. I have flour on my pale green jacket, the one with the sequinned llamas, which Juniper has never once objected to as workwear. One of multitude reasons she is the best employer I’ve ever had.

“My cousin's going to cry,” I say. “The whole ceremony. Both sides of the aisle will be damp.”

“That's what weddings are for.”

“Marianne cried at the opening of the new garden centre. There was a ribbon cutting, Juniper. A ribbon cutting.”

Juniper considers this and smiles. “You better take tissues, then.”

She passes me her phone a moment later, the page for the Snowflake Falls community board open. Carl, Snowflake’s self-appointed weather propher has posted his weekend forecast with the gravity of someone issuing a government warning.

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ SEVERE precipitation event, Saturday thru Sunday. Mountain passes dangerous. I have informed the mayor. He did not respond but he will sure as heck wish he had.

“He said that about the charity fishing trip in July,” I shake my head. “He'd misread a cloud.”

“Carl likes his beer, I reckon he was under the influence. And he was only two days off.”

I shake my head. “He’s unreliable.”

Juniper takes the phone back. My boss gives me the look she reserves for when she thinks I'm about to learn something the hard way, but she respects my right to find out for myself. I find this smile both comforting and slightly ominous.

My plan for the weekend is straightforward: leave this afternoon, drive to the coast with a stop at a motel tonight, arrive at the venue Saturday afternoon with enough time to unpack, hang my dress up before it creases beyond saving, and be a present and emotionally functional human being for Marianne's wedding on Sunday. I have ironed the dress and written the card. I am, for once in my adult life, completely organised.

Unfortunately, when I get home from work, I discover my car has reviewed my plan and declined to participate. The sound the engine makes when I turn the key is the sound of something that has given up. One single dry click, hollow and final. I try twice more before gently banging my head against the steering wheel.

I call my brother Alden first. He’s already almost at the venue and suggests I call around to get a ride with someone else. 

Juniper's partner Kieran has his truck at the mechanic until Monday. The one rideshare driver in Snowflake Falls is booked for a bachelorette party. The train route has engineering works. The new route has connections that would get me there too late on Sunday morning via six changes and an unexplained twelve-hour stop at a scary-sounding place called Bluebeard's Bluff.

I stand on the pavement in the cold and look at my increasingly crap options. What am I going to do?

In the driveway next door sits a truck. Black, solid, recently washed; the kind of vehicle that probably has a full-size spare and has never once made the kind of noises that my car makes every day. Alden mentioned weeks ago that his best friend was going to be at the wedding. “Mitchell's going up for Marianne's wedding too, his second cousin Ryan is the groom, you'll probably see him there.”

Mitchell Morgan has been my neighbour for nearly twelve months. Alden called me the same day he moved in to tell me that Mitchell, his best army buddy, had been through a lot and I should leave him in peace. I hadn’t been planning to ambush the man or dance naked on his front porch. I wave at my neighbours; I don't interrogate them. Mitchell has received three waves from me and returned none of them. 

He is very tall, broad-shouldered, and unsettingly calm. I’ve never seen him smile, and he looks at everything like it narrowly failed an inspection. I stand on the pavement for a full minute. A robin lands on my useless car's wing mirror, clocks me, and then flies up to perch on Mitchell’s truck. 

I take it as a sign, walk next door and knock before I can talk myself out of it.

Mitchell takes a while to answer. When he does, he’s wearing a dark flannel shirt, sleeves pushed back, with a coffee in his hand, looking like someone designed him specifically to make other people feel slightly unfinished. A large dog sits at his side, gazing at me serenely.

Deep in the house, something shifts on a wooden perch: it’s a huge raven. It flies up to perch on Mitchell’s shoulder and fixes me with one beady eye before opening its beak. 

“Show us your…” 

Mitchell turns his head and the raven stops. There's a brief, loaded silence.

“My car's dead,” I say. “I know you're driving up to the wedding today… Alden mentioned it's your second cousin Ryan… and I have genuinely tried every other option, including a train route so bleak I think it was designed as a deterrent. I'll pay for fuel. I'm a very easy passenger and I'll probably sleep for half of it.” He still hasn't spoken. “And your dog seems fine with me.”

The dog is sniffing the air in my direction and wagging his tail. The raven makes a honking noise, shifts its wings, and flies back into the house.

“The dog isn’t coming. My sister is looking after the animals.” His voice is deep enough to do strange things to my chest. 

“Nice rack!” the raven squawks from somewhere in the house. Mitchell doesn't react. I decide not to either.

“What time?” Mitchell says. Not a question so much as a requirement.

“I was thinking four, but I can do whenever?”

“Four works. Be ready.”

“I will be, completely, I just need to…”

“On time, Tania.”

He says my name like he’s giving an order and closes the door. The raven is cackling in the background.

I walk back to my path and stand there for a moment in the cold. A long drive with some bossy, grumpy guy who’s avoided me for a whole year. Would the train be better?

I sigh and go inside to pack.

☘️ Here’s a throwback Thursday to one of my favorite books to write: St Patrick’s Day with the Guy Next Door. I’m a quarter Irish and my ancestors came to the States from County Clare on the west coast of Ireland, so I had a ball with this one! 

My uncle's cabin in Snowflake Falls is a wreck. But the grumpy Irish guy next door who agrees to help me is way more than I bargained for...

Maggie

My uncle left me a property in Snowflake Falls in his will.
So now I'm here from the city in this small town.
This place is falling down and I'm way out of my depth.
My brooding neighbor is a skilled handyman who says he'll help.
He's the most gorgeous man I've ever met and I'm falling fast.
But will he let down his guard and take a chance at happiness?

Seán

Life has not been kind to me.
I keep my head down and my heart locked up tight.
But this American woman next door is a real handful.
She's beautiful, sunny and sings all the feckin' time.
I want to take her to the St. Patrick's Day party in town.
But I'll need to find a way to ask her first...

🏍️ My friend Zoey Rose has a hot MC romance I think you’ll enjoy called King’s Domain. 

King

I don't rescue damsels in distress.
When Luna stepped off that midnight bus into my dying town, I saw her as a civilian. A complication. A potential pawn in the war brewing with the Iron Eagles.
Then she refused to surrender. Fierce blue eyes, refusing to back down even with the odds stacked against her.
I'm not a hero. I'm "King," ruler of the Savage Riders MC, feared and respected through three counties. Men cross the street when they see me coming.
But her inheritance, a ruined Victorian at the edge of town, sits at the crossroads of this conflict. Strategic value, I tell myself. That's the only reason I'm helping her rebuild. The only reason I'm drawn to her courage, her stubborn determination, her hands that heal instead of hurt.
Now Vulture and his Iron Eagles are closing in, thinking they've found my weakness.
They've actually found my reason to be more ruthless than ever.
Some women aren't meant to be saved. Some, like Luna, are meant to stand beside you when the world burns.

💖 Have a happy Friday tomorrow and a great weekend!
Jessa xx

🤭 P.S. I’m having a hard time not shouting about 💍 my 🏍️ new 👰‍♀️series. Thank you for the guesses, some of you are right on the money. All will be revealed very soon…