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Inn Haven

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Audrey King is suffering from writer's block. She does everything to overcome it, but nothing seems to work out for her. Or maybe what she needs is something or someone to inspire her. That's how she finds her way to Inn Haven—an Internet-free zone. For a blogger, she won't last a day without it. That's not what happens though after meeting the hot Inn owner who also a celebrity chef. Can this hot chef cure her writer's block through his mouthwatering menu? Or she finally finds the inspiration she's been looking for.

Romance / Adventure
Gia Hunter
4.7 9 reviews
Age Rating:

Inn Haven

The car parked at the driveway, giving me a glimpse of the Inn Haven after the driver announced that this was the address I’d shown him at the airport.

Sighing deeply, I stepped out and let the driver help me grab my suitcase from the trunk.

Then the white house that drew attention to myself. In an instant, I felt somewhat I transported myself to the 18th Century era. Amazed by the view before me, I stared at the heavy branches with Spanish moss from the old oak tree that covered over half of the mansion.

I whirled my head around, leisurely admiring the view of the woodland, sparkling dew-wrenched grass, and tall trees surrounding the four box cabins of the same structural designs and sizes on both sides.

I cursed my best friend for booking this place without telling me before she did. I figured I ended up here, feeling sorry for myself.

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Since you’re single, it’s time for you to go back on track and have some fun.

It was not a secret that I didn’t like people deciding what was good for me, or what I should do, and her idea of fun was not the same as mine, but seeing this place might not be a bad idea after all.

Excitement crawled over my skin as I dragged my suitcase toward the white house. I took a note to thank Amber as soon as I settle in one of these cabins. The fresh air alone made me want to think of extending my stay.

Struggling with writer’s block was worse than having a broken heart. Brokenhearted had a lot of ways to tend it—a drink in the bar, a Tinder account; perhaps hook-ups, search for a rebound guy, and there was you called a body spa, spoiling yourself with shopping spree once in a while. But a writer’s block was another story. I did everything I found tips on the website, but none of them was a help.

My subscribers and loyal fans had blown my emails, comment boxes, and message boards on my blog site for my updates.

Aud-Venture was the love of my life for three years. It had been three weeks since I last posted my update, and I couldn’t write anything. My readers had been expecting a huge surprise for the fourth anniversary, and it occurred to me that I was screwing everything up.

Amber suggested that I should get a real vacation. Then here I was. In the Inn Haven, hundreds of miles away from the city.

“Welcome to Inn Haven, ma’am.”A mid-twenties guy approached and smiled as he welcomed me.

“Thank you.”

“Follow me, please,” he said and grabbed my things as we walked toward the house.

“Am I staying there?”

“No, ma’am. You’ll be staying in one of the cabins, but you have to sign some paper at the reception.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Mr. Brice is expecting your arrival.”

“Oh, that’s great.” I felt the excitement fluttering in my stomach, and I couldn’t wait to explore this place could offer.

The living room was made of glossy dark red oak from the walls, to the U-shaped staircase, and furniture. Even the elegant chandelier hanging from the cathedral ceiling looked exquisite and vintage. It smelled rich and classic. And cinnamon?

Thuds of footsteps made me turn and had my heart rate accelerated.

I rooted in my place, and a tiny gasp slipped my lips.

Is he Mr. Brice?

I was expecting a bald old man with a shotgun slung over his shoulder that just came from hunting in the forest. But I was a little bit… disappointed? If It was even disappointing because the man just walked in was just slipped off from a fitness magazine. Okay, that was totally inappropriate.

Maybe I should believe that angels do exist though. The slanting rays of the sun on his figure made his face darken against my sight. he could be one of the fallen angels. He was huge, tall, maybe around six feet and two inches filled with muscles and ridges.

He was wearing a white slim fit with two buttons long sleeves. He had refined muscles underneath those sleeves that made them stretch against his torsos. This man looks juicy.

“You must be Amber Jacobs,” he said delightedly. His voice was deep and rich. He then flashed his smile at me with his perfect white teeth like he had a regular dental visit. He then held his hand out. “Welcome to Inn Haven!”

A sudden rush of warm sensation escalated inside my chest.

Still astounded, I took and shook it. Instantly, my stomach tightened, feeling his strong hand around my small one. I could feel the callous in his tight grip. It sent tingles down my spine and some interesting places.

He must have worked hard. And I never felt a handshake that promised comfort before and something more. I wondered if it always felt this way.

“Oh, that’s my best friend. She booked for me. I’m Audrey King.” I pulled my hand back, still feeling the warmth of his skin, and I couldn’t help but clasped it back.

“Well then. Please, follow me.” He strode to the reception that made my eyes grow wide.

“Wow! You must have hated this tree.” I clamped my mouth shut once the words came out unexpectedly.

He rounded to the 25-foot-long thick log that served as the reception desk. He stared me with his piercing gray eyes. “You must be an environmentalist.” His tone was sharp and laced with displeasure.

I nearly gasped at his sudden change of expression and nearly laughed at his comment. His face was damn serious and the angelic invisible halo was gone, or maybe it was still there, but replaced with dark angelic aura.

What’s with me and the angels anyway?

I blinked and smiled despite feeling the knots in my stomach. “No, I am not. I didn’t mean it that way, but I’ve never seen a log used as a desk. This is quite an interesting and intriguing design.”

“If you say so. This tree is a hundred years old, but it fell down from the hurricane. I bought it from the landowner and transported it here. I used for this desk, and the remaining parts were used for the furniture in the cabins. You’ll see it later.” He pulled out some paper and stocked it to the clipboard. “Kindly fill this up, and please read the rules and regulations before you sign.”

I filled up the necessary information needed and turned the pages to the Inn rules and regulations.

“Number 3. Are you serious?” My eyes narrowed at the paper and re-read it again as if I didn’t comprehend anything.

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