When Kacy Conner crashes her car into the side of my repair shop, I should have ignored it. Given the damage to the building and her car, I couldn’t. But I didn’t have to offer her a place to stay. None of it had to do with her being stranded in our small town or those beautiful blue eyes. And it certainly did not have to do with her contagious laughter or that she’s crazy sexy and feisty. I’m lying. It has everything to do with her. Now I have to think of a reason to make her stay past the two weeks it takes to fix her car. And I’m enlisting the help of my two adorable daughters. I know, you should never use your kids to get laid, but whoever said that hadn’t gone five years without any. Or they’re lying to you. Don’t go calling protective services on me. Everything I’m having them do is completely harmless. I mean, it’s totally okay to bribe your kids with cookies to slash her tires so she can’t leave. And it’s fine to have them steal the battery out of her car. Okay, I helped with that one. Hello, they can’t carry a car battery. They can’t even clean their room, or so they tell me. Also, just so we’re clear on how far you can take it, it’s no big deal to have your three-year-old fake an injury to get alone time with her. I’m sure all single dads do that. A little white lie never hurt anyone. Until her lie finds her and I begin to question everything she’s told me about the night we met.