Mr. Fixer Upper Novels & Stories

The gorgeous, sexy man was coming her way. He must be going to a table on the other – “Excuse me. Are you the one who needs a handyman and contractor?” he asked as he approached her table. Oh my god. He’s too good looking to be . . . “Um, yes. A.J.?” “Right.” He pulled a chair out across from her. “So, what is it that you need done?” He sat down. “Me . . . I mean a lot. A lot.” She quickly swallowed and collected herself. “I purchased a fixer-upper and it was more work than I had thought it would be. So, this project might take a few months – even longer.”

Two small wall fans pivoted around either side of the room with a noisy rhythm. The name emblazoned in white on the front of the wood-red jumper the guy wore said 'Vaughn Binse'. Everest loured as the guy raised his head at her entrance and flashed a smile. She had had her doubt when Mrs Casss had given her the name of the plumber. 'Fix-a-Lot' sounded more like a handyman than a real plumber. Of course, she thought, as she walked up to the counter, the chances of finding a real plumber in this small town were fat.

“I’ve got a job for you. It’s important… and we’re not talking about it over the phone. Meet me in twenty minutes. Same spot.” I ended the call before he could say anything else. My hand lingered on the door handle, ready to leave, but then I paused. I turned back slowly, eyes locking on the fixer who stood by the furnace. “I almost forgot,” I said. “Cut out his tongue. Then burn his throat.” The fixer looked up at me, nodded once, and moved toward the iron without asking questions. That’s why I kept him close, he didn’t ask why, only how deep.

Bitterness, regret, stupidity, and pride had killed both father and son. But as soon as Trevor Glanzer hired on for shit wages, things’d begun to change. He’d cajoled Harland into springing for new paint and spruced up the crappy siding. He’d harassed the old man into buying shingles so Trevor could put on a new roof. Trevor resealed windows, fixed the furnace and installed a new water heater. Chassie helped him restore the house and often wondered if that’s why she’d fallen for him.

I nod. "You know that I can have your ass fired in a snap of a finger, right?" He asks Ric, eyebrows raised incredibly high. "Get back to work, the lady will be all right." He hesitates and I nod at him. "It is okay. I got this." "Give me a call once you are done." I don't have his phone number but I nod anyway. "I will, thank you," I tell him and glance back as he walks out of the office. It is just me and Mr. ugly face now.

"What Miss Snyder is trying not to say, Mrs. Cadman, is that I'm a special kind of consultant. I'm what people like your husband call a fixer. Do you know what that is?" "Of course I do, I was married to Jefferson for twenty years. I know what a fixer is. But what is it you think you can fix for me young man?"

He opened the cabinet under the sink and showed us the fixed pipe. “Wow!” Deborah tilted her head to look at his accomplishment. “We’ve been calling Holly to get us a plumber, but as usual, she’s busy. Thanks again.” “Why are you doing this, Aiden?” I growled at him. I didn’t know why I was suddenly angry at him when Aiden only did a good deed for us. It was not new to me that he knew plumbing to carpentry because his grandmother relied on him more than calling someone to fix their home.

About loyalty and kindness, which was rich coming from the man who paid for Celeste’s murder in monthly installments. He forked a roasted pepper into his mouth. I watched his fingers twitch, but nothing dramatic. Just the small delay in coordination, like a marionette with a frayed string. The sour-looking fixer next to him blinked. Slowly. His left eye didn’t quite close. The morning newspaper made bigger impression on him than was written on his face. After all, it was for him to fix that sh***. Not bad for your first job as a fixer. Another man, one with the bulk of a human refrigerator, reached for his knife and dropped it mid-air. It clanged off the plate like a church bell at a mafia b

she added, frowning playfully. That made me chuckle. “Okay. I’ll be sure to tell you when he does,” I replied with a smile. She smiled back and returned to her seat. With a smile still on my face, I turned to Mr. Walker—and it vanished. He was already staring at me intensely. “You know, you could’ve just told me to fix my tie, right?” he asked, raising a brow. All I could focus on was his voice—deep and raspy. “You didn’t have to call my mum. Make her leave her seat, just to fix it,” he added irritably. Why is he always irritated?

Lucas stared at the little white house. The roof was in bad shape, so it would be the first priority. And the place definitely needed a coat of paint, and some weatherproofing before the winter hit. Then there was plenty to do on the inside—some rewiring, some plumbing, and lots of cosmetic stuff. It was a fixer-upper, for sure. “It doesn’t feel real,” he said almost to himself. Mark grunted as he lowered the tailgate of their rental trailer. “It’s real. Now come help me. This stuff isn’t going to move itself.”