Sundays with Oliver (Hearts & Crafts #1) Read Online Kelly Jensen

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Hearts & Crafts Series by Kelly Jensen

Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)

Two empty-nesters. Two bruised hearts. One chance to make things right.

Oliver expected to miss his daughter when she left for college, but he’s surprised by the size of the hole she leaves. Or maybe he hadn’t expected to spend his days watching grass grow and making sad cookies. Or to lose his job. Meeting Nick—the uncle of his daughter’s roommate—is a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy forecast. Nick is focused, talented, and as beautiful as the dollhouses he builds. Being near him might bring light and purpose to Oliver’s life.
Nick expected to miss his niece when she left for college, but he’s still figuring out how to cope with her absence, when his brother reappears after twelve years, complicating the emotional puzzle. Then there’s Oliver, the sweet, calm, and competent man who looks at Nick like no one ever has. Spending Sundays in Oliver’s company is the balm he needs, though Nick is waiting for Oliver to decide their relationship is too much work.
But just as Nick begins to get comfortable, Oliver’s need to provide for all of the people he loves threatens to pull them apart. If their relationship is to survive, they will have to learn to let go. For Oliver, this means asking himself what he really wants, this time around. For Nick, it means letting himself grieve the people who can’t come back and love the people who always will.


Breakfast was Oliver’s favorite meal of the day. He would lie in bed at night considering recipes, already tasting melted butter or the crisp edge of a lightly browned biscuit. Last night, it had been the dainty texture of crepes and the sweet contrast of peach compote. Peach season was nearly done. But as August waned, along with summer, autumn would bring new fruits and new breakfast options.

Oliver preferred not to think about what else autumn would bring, but he’d done that too, lying there in the dark, flipping crepes in his mind. In just five short days, he’d be delivering his best recipe to college: his daughter.

With morning sunlight splashing through the kitchen windows, Oliver slid a second batch of crepes into the warming drawer, stirred the peaches, and nodded with satisfaction. Breakfast was almost ready. He flicked off the burners and unknotted the strings of his apron.

His footsteps echoed off the risers as he climbed the stairs, his tread deliberately heavy and noisy as he approached Danica’s bedroom. Waking a teenager could be like raising the dead; advance warning and preparation were always recommended. Oliver paused outside the door, listening for signs of life before he knocked.



Still nothing. He opened the door and leaned into the miasma that had developed roughly three years ago, only ever dissipating when Dani left for summer camp with instructions not to open her windows “because spiders.”

Oliver always ignored such instructions. He would lie in bed the night before she left, picturing her curtains rippling in a fresh breeze—right after he’d settled on what he would serve for breakfast in the morning.

Stacked plastic tubs formed a wall between the door and the bed. His ankle turned as he stepped on something soft and he stumbled into a tub before catching himself on a bedpost. Plastic lids slid off the desk chair and clattered to the floor. The chair squeaked and turned, knocking into the desk, and feathers from Dani’s latest costume design puffed up and began a lazy descent. Oliver spat one away from his lips and leaned sideways. The bed creaked as he adjusted his weight.

His daughter did not stir.

“Dear lord, Dani.”

Should he feel for a pulse?

Who would feel for her pulse next week when she lay comatose in her college dorm room?

Oliver laid a hand on his daughter’s sleep-warm head. “It’s time to get up.” He lifted his voice to match the bright sunshine seeping in around the edges of the curtains. “I made crepes.”

Dani curled tighter, the movement providing a much-needed sign of life.

“You love my crepes. You won’t be able to get them in the city.”

“They sell crepes in New York, Dad.” Dani’s voice croaked and cracked.

“Not like mine.” And if he left them in the warming drawer for too much longer, they’d suffer, and not in a way that made them stronger, faster, better. Oliver shook Dani’s shoulder. “C’mon. Up and at ’em. The crepes will get stiff if we don’t eat them soon. And the compote will get cold. It’s peach, your favorite.”

An inarticulate mutter drifted up from her pillow.

“We’ve only got five more breakfasts together.”


Oliver prepared to navigate a path back across the teenage minefield. “You’ll miss me at that fancy college of yours.”

“No, I won’t.”

She would.

Or, if not, he’d simply miss her enough for the both of them.

Smile fixed, Oliver paused by the door. “Yes, you will. Now get up. I don’t want to have to bring a bucket of ice water up here.”