Trouble with a Touch of Spice: Love & Secrets of Asheville, Book 2

The arrival of a sleek new luxury hotel isn’t just a threat to Shelby Villarreal’s quaint family inn — this Thanksgiving, it’s a twist of fate that will either destroy her small-town life or change it forever.

Caught in a game of ruthless ambitions and dangerously seductive intentions, Shelby realizes she’s risking far more than her family’s business.

But when she discovers a hidden truth about the land’s ownership, she realizes her fiercest rival might be her only chance at redemption — and her heart’s undoing. Torn between her family’s legacy and an unexpected love, Shelby must decide what, and who, she’s willing to fight for.

• Holiday
• Enemies to Lovers
• Forbidden Love
• Opposites Attract
• Touch of Mystery
• Romantic Suspense
• Secret Past and Redemption
• Family Secrets and Reconciliation
• Small-Town Charm

...
Thanksgiving. The word alone was enough to send oodles of anxious pangs banging around my ribcage. It wasn’t just about the turkey and pumpkin pie — it was about facing a room full of relatives, their smiles masking unspoken tensions and old wounds. And this year, my mother was insisting I host the whole affair at the inn.

Yes, me, yours truly. She said that after all these years, it’s my turn to host. I reminded her that I’ve only been a legal adult for one measly little decade, but that may have hurt rather than helped.

As I rolled the final stretch of wall, my thoughts drifted to Charlotte. My sister. The empty chair at our family gatherings for the past few years. She was probably sipping artisanal coffee and living her best life, while I was here, suffocating under the weight of family expectations and a struggling business.

The inn had been in our family for generations, a Victorian beauty that had weathered wars, depressions, and the changing tides of tourism. But now, it felt like we were fighting a losing battle against time and progress.

I set down the roller and stepped back to survey my work. The fresh coat of paint gave the room a clean, modern feel — a small victory in the ongoing battle to keep the inn relevant. But is winning these small battles enough?

As I changed into a clean blouse, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The woman staring back at me looked tired, her eyes carrying the weight of unspoken worries. I barely recognized her sometimes.

Twenty minutes later, I was pushing open the door to Sullivan’s Hardware, the little bell above tinkling cheerfully. The familiar scent of sawdust and metal enveloped me.

“Well, if it isn’t Shelby Villarreal!” Julie Sullivan’s voice rang out from behind the counter. “What can we do for you today, honey?”

I smiled, making my way over to her. “Hey, Julie. I need another gallon of that ‘Misty Morning’ gray, please. And maybe some new rollers?”

Julie nodded, already reaching for the paint mixer. “Coming right up. How’s that inn of yours doing? Heard some rumors about that new hotel development…” She trailed off, her eyes searching my face.

I forced a smile. “Oh, you know how it is. We’re hanging in there. Nothing’s set in stone with that hotel yet.”

Julie clucked sympathetically. “Well, you just let me know if there’s anything we can do to help. This town wouldn’t be the same without the Villarreal Inn.”

As Julie busied herself with mixing the paint, I wandered down one of the aisles, absently running my fingers along the shelves. That’s when I heard it — a deep, unfamiliar voice coming from the next aisle over.

“Excuse me, do you carry any reclaimed wood? I’m looking for something with character for a small project.”

There was something about that voice — warm yet crisp, confident, with just a hint of an accent I couldn’t place. Before I knew what I was doing, I had rounded the corner to the next aisle.

And there he was. Tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck. He was facing away from me, examining a piece of lumber, but I could see the strong line of his jaw, the way his henley stretched across his back.

I must have made some small sound because he turned, and suddenly I was staring into the most striking pair of hazel eyes I’d ever seen. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Hi there,” he said, as two cute dimples appeared over his growing smile. “I don’t suppose you work here? I could use some expert advice.”