Eric

Maybe I've made a mistake. My cottage, albeit charming, needs nonstop work, the weather's abysmal, and my last bank account statement simply said, “Bless your heart.” But I don't regret moving to the Swedish countryside. The job is great, and I'm making friends. Who said Swedes were cold and distant? I only need some cheap firewood to tide me over until the real spring arrives.

Out of nowhere comes rescue—a gorgeous Viking on a tractor. He helps me with firewood and drives me to the hardware store. I shouldn't be crushing on Bj?rn since he looks as straight as they come. But then the shy hunk of a man turns up on my porch with a bag of cinnamon rolls, blushing…

Bj?rn

Life is uneventful for a gay man in a village of three hundred people, but I like it quiet. I have fifteen thousand hectares of forest to manage, so it's not like I get bored.

Except now an American from the South bought an old cottage on the edge of my property and he's shoveling April snow in his sneakers. The good people of Gryta are already betting on when he'll run back to Stockholm.

Eric is in dire need of help, so here I am, dangling on a ladder, pressure-washing the gutters on his cottage. He's absolutely charming, gorgeous, and all my wet dreams come true. I wish I could at least slow down my falling in love with him—because what if he leaves?