A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

Now, Gran has her own room. Likely because of that incident. Or perhaps the one where she knocked Mr. Winters off his motorized scooter and stole it, making a break for the emergency exit.

“Here.” I take it from his hands, not missing the way our fingers brush but distracted now by his present. I hold it as carefully as a newborn kitten. He made it, I realize, seeing the wispy strings of glue hanging off the candy bars like shiny cobwebs. One of them catches on my wrist. Eli made this. For me. I will not be a grown woman crying in the lobby of an animal shelter over candy. I will not. “Don’t look too closely. It was my first time wielding a glue gun.” “You used a glue gun? For me?” “First and last time.” He chuckles,