Sunday Brothers

The job at Sunday Orchard was supposed to be temporary. A chance to gain some work experience, to have some fun. I had not expected to be welcomed into a family of gorgeous and weirdly efficient lumberjack-types, or to find purpose in the tiny Vermont town whose claim to fame seemed to be apple-based products and copious amounts of charm. And I most definitely hadn’t expected to fall for Knox Sunday, my grumpy, burly, fifteen-years-older, reluctant roommate, with his infuriating lectures, his hot-as-fire body, his superior attitude - I’ve never been one to put down roots.

I once lived a fairly quiet existence as a math professor. Then Teagan Donahue crashed into my life like a shooting star. Now every day's a holiday, and my very best friend is also the guy I can't stop fantasizing about. The guy I'm madly in love with. The guy I'm ready to turn down my dream job for. But the statistical probability of a man like Teagan wanting his shy, nerdy roommate as more than a friend is incredibly low, and if I have to choose between having everything else I've ever wanted and having Teagan in my life... well, I know which one I'll pick, every time.

Webb Sunday is the straight single dad next door. He’s lumberjack-gorgeous, strong and steady as the trees in his family orchard, a grumpy fairy-tale prince...and entirely off-limits. Or so I thought. Until the drunken night the two of us walked into a bar...and landed ourselves in the middle of small-town history. Who knew hand-fasting was still a thing? The town of Little Pippin Hollow did. And once this bunch of meddling Vermonters gets wind of our accidental betrothal, they are determined to see us seal the deal.

When I asked Jack Wyatt to help me lose my pesky v-card, I didn’t expect him to keel over in shocked disapproval and nearly tumble us down a mountain. You might think a guy who's been reading romance novels his whole life would've figured out a smoother way to broach the subject, but in my defense, I’ve been pining for Jack for seven long years, just waiting for him to notice me.

Never fall for your professor. Especially when that professor is Theo Hancock, the man who failed you in your final semester, causing you to have to repeat a class in your millionth year of college, when you’re already 20-freaking-6 years old. Especially when the professor is the most stunning, eye-popping piece of perfection, who ever walked on campus. So brilliant, his voice alone changed the course of your life. So gorgeous, students affectionately call him Dr. Hotco. Well, you get the idea.