The Lumberjack's Pumpkin Spice Problem: Mountain Man Pumpkin & Plaid

I've got 200 acres of timber, a chainsaw that needs a new chain, and a woman on my property demanding I donate a truckload of pumpkins to the town's harvest festival.

I don't grow pumpkins. I grow trees. I cut them down, I haul them out, and I mind my business.

But apparently the pumpkin patch on the adjacent lot flooded, the festival is in five days, and my unused south field is "the perfect emergency pumpkin growing alternative" according to this woman who's standing in my kitchen drinking my coffee like she lives here.

She doesn't live here. She runs the pumpkin patch. The flooded one. And she's not asking for my help. She's telling me I'm going to help and offering to pay me in pumpkin spice muffins.

I don't eat pumpkin spice anything.

I definitely don't notice the way flour dusts her collarbone or the way she bites her lip when she's calculating square footage in her head. I don't think about the fact that she smells like brown sugar and autumn and the kind of comfort I stopped letting myself want a long time ago.

And I absolutely don't agree to help just because she looked at me with those honey-brown eyes and said, "Please. I need you."

Nobody's needed me in years.

Turns out that's exactly the problem.

The Lumberjack's Pumpkin Spice Problem is a fall rom-com featuring a grumpy lumberjack who hates pumpkin season and the curvy girl who makes him love it anyway. Emergency pumpkin rescue mission, forced partnership, grumpy/sunshine, baking as flirtation, flannel-ripping tension, and enough spice to make pumpkin lattes jealous. Club Crimson's Autumn Harvest festival provides the backdrop for a story about a man who thought he didn't need anything discovering the one thing he can't live without. Steamy. Funny. Guaranteed HEA.