Mr. Fixer Upper Novels & Stories

He wastched us both suspicously, then said, "Vince, I see you met my daughter." His name is Vince? "I'm Sofia. It was a pleasure to meet you." I indroduce myself to 'Vince'. "Vincenzo Moretti." He said in a deep voice. He had an accent. "Vincenzo is the Italian Don." My papa said to me. That explained his sexy accent. Did I just call his accent sexy? "Why are you having a meeting with the Italian Don?" I ask, confused. "I'll explain later, now come, your mama made breakfast." He answered.

he muttered. He stormed into the storage room. He had to turn this messy theater into a flawless Broadway set to influence the people's eyes. It had to be perfect. He grabbed a heavy mop with a cracked wooden handle and a bucket of icy cold water. He shoved his AirPods into his ears and went to work. He scrubbed the stage until his hands burned and the polished floor reflected his exhausted face. His eyes were drooping and sparking with heavy tiredness. His legs felt like they were about to collapse.

I asked him, but I noticed that he was more engrossed in the TV he was watching than he was before. When I looked at the TV, I saw what had caught Mr. Vale’s attention; it was a video of Syrus on a business show. It was a gathering of CEO’s and company owners, and Syrus Vale was among them. In fact, he was one of the highly respected CEO’s there.

“How’s the… plumbing going?” “Fixed the leak upstairs and reinforced some of the joists that were getting waterlogged. Now I’m working on the back steps.” He gestures to the half-completed porch. “Some of the boards were completely rotted through. It’s a wonder no one’s fallen through yet.” I nod, sneaking glances at him as he drinks his lemonade. There’s something undeniably attractive about a man working with his hands, creating or fixing something. Especially when that man is usually wrapped in thousand-dollar suits and signing executive orders.

I have my 80-year-old mother, my 20-year-old gentle wife, and a five-year-old toddler to take care of. "That's three people waiting for my paycheck to put food on the table. I can't leave the company!" Ray's wails came through the phone. Carl rolled his eyes and remarked, "Ray, it seems like you really haven't had enough of cleaning the bathrooms." "Mr. Walker, I was wrong." Ray stopped whining at once when he sensed that Carl was getting angry. He opened his mouth to beg again, but his expression turned icy when he spotted a purple figure flashing past. He nodded and agreed to follow Carl's instructions to send the famous chefs over.

He pointed to the door next to mine. Oh fuck! He is not the new neighbour, right? But I thought Derek called our new neighbour an old man? "Yup. I own the room now. I guess I am your new neighbour now." He is purposely doing this. An old man walked up towards us, holding a big empty carton. "I am done fixing the appliances sir." This must be the old man Derek was talking about. He is just a repairer. "Sure sir. I will check it out right now."

I stare at the perfect, round shape of his ass in those worn-out jeans as he bends over. My heart is a wild drum in my chest. I’m a middle-aged, married socialite, and I’m so wet I’m leaving a slick spot on my robe for a boy who fixes pipes for a living. He slides out, wiping his hands on a rag. “All done. Just a clog. You’re good to go.” He gives me that smile again, and my last thread of control snaps. “Are you sure it’s fixed?” I ask, my voice dropping to a husky whisper.

My older sister was still married to the man my father had picked for her. "Why do you seem so shocked?" He shrugged one shoulder and then he leaned forward on the table, closing the distance between us, a small smirk sitting on his lips, "I said, are you into threesomes?" I stared into his eyes with my narrowed ones. This man looked like he was straight out of a movie, he was blonde, probably around 6'4, and he had this weird monotonous voice that sent chills down my spine. I nodded slowly, and then shifted back, "yes, I am."

He answered cheerfully and I rolled my eyes although he couldn’t see me. “Mr.Alexander! Can you tell me where my car is?” I was getting annoyed by each passing minute. “Oh…. Hold on a second, I am coming down!” He responded & before I protested, he hung up on me. I looked at the phone unbelievably but then waited for Alexander. He came down after 2 minutes, dressed up in a plain T-shirt and grey sweatpants. I admired him silently because he was looking delicious & handsome as fu**! “Take a picture, my dear! It’ll last long.” He winked at me when he got near & I scoffed.