HEATHER TULLIS has been reading romance for as long as she can remember and has been publishing in the genre since 2009. She has published more than twenty books.
When she’s not dreaming up new stories to write, or helping out with her community garden, she enjoys playing with her dogs and cat, cake decorating, trying new jewelry designs, inventing new ways to eat chocolate, and hanging out with her husband.
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Jonah Owens thought moving to Echo Ridge to open his art gallery would solve all of his problems. The need to sell his grandma's house adds an unexpected complication. It would be easier if his neighbor didn't have all those farm animals.
Kaya Feidler's family has owned their land for nearly a hundred years--long before the neighbors were there. There's no way she's giving up the animal therapy business she's been struggling to make profitable. She gets a temp job helping Jonah in the gallery.
Spending time together is a recipe for romance, but can they overcome their own hangups to be more than friends?
Snippet:
At first Jonah stepped into the room, not realizing what he was seeing. Then he stopped in shock, seeing his grandmother, lying in bed, holding a chicken. It was orange and fluffy and sat calmly in her arms, making a soft clucking sound while Kaya sat beside the bed, talking and smiling. She looked up, laughter still in her voice as she finished her sentence. Her smile disappeared when she saw him.
“What in blazes is going on here?” Jonah looked from the chicken to his grandmother to Kaya and back. “Chickens do not belong in a nursing home.”
Kaya glared at him. “It's a rehab center, not a nursing home. And Bella is a certified therapy chicken.”
“A therapy chicken?” He couldn't believe his ears. “That dirty, nasty, smelly thing is therapy?”
Kaya stood up to him, though she was at least six inches shorter than him. Her dark brows were pulled down in anger. “Bella is not dirty, nasty or smelly. She was thoroughly bathed just a couple of hours ago. She loves to be held and petted, and your grandmother—along with a number of other people who live here—loves her.”
“A therapy chicken cannot be legit. Who gave you permission to bring that thing in here?” Recently bathed or not, the woman obviously had no sense. “What if it poops all over the blanket?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized they had rigged up a diaper of sorts for the bird, but still. It was gross.
