The Viking's Heartwish, page 1
The Viking's Heartwish
Heartwishes, Volume 1
Daisy Dexter Dobbs
Published by Department of Daydreams, 2022.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE VIKING'S HEARTWISH
First edition. May 10, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 Daisy Dexter Dobbs.
ISBN: 978-1587850578
Written by Daisy Dexter Dobbs.
Also by Daisy Dexter Dobbs
Heartwishes
The Viking's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
The Genie's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
The Firefighter's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
The Knitter's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
The Nymph's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
The Psychic's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Daisy Dexter Dobbs’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Daisy Dexter Dobbs
Dedication
Book Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
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Further Reading: The Genie's Heartwish
Also By Daisy Dexter Dobbs
About the Author
Grandma Bekka, a beloved character in my Heartwishes series, was inspired by my own grandmother, Daisy. Thanks to Grandma Daisy’s oft-repeated, larger than life tales, told in her rich, singsong Irish brogue, I decided at an early age to become a writer. When I was little we’d imagine and talk for hours about the handsome man I would one day find, fall in love with, marry, and have a storybook happily ever after. Grandma Daisy was right on all counts! My goal was (and still is) to weave stories as captivating as hers, bringing smiles to readers the same way Grandma’s tales brightened my days. I’m convinced that the wonderful woman who helped me survive a dysfunctional childhood is now my guardian angel.
Book Description
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Grandma Bekka, Delaney Kullerton’s adorable 80-something grandmother, sits in the office of a carefully vetted high-class male escort service, flipping through glossy pages of their explicit, full-color catalog to select the prime candidate to fulfill her granddaughter’s lifelong Viking fantasies.
At least that’s what Delaney assumes when a gorgeous, half-naked man appears on her doorstep, dressed in full Viking regalia, including horned Brunhilda helmet, sword and shield. In broken English, he tells Delaney he’s Varik the Bold...and he wants to play. Tired of being a rule-following goody-two-shoes, she considers taking the big blonde muscled hunk of goodness up on his tempting offer.
Why shouldn’t she? Especially after Delaney’s cheating, arrogant, condescending English professor husband blindsides her, leaving her for one of his perky graduate students—on Delaney’s Valentine’s Day birthday, no less.
It’s clear her beloved grandmother’s estate is following Bekka’s instructions, ensuring Delaney won’t be alone and grieving on her birthday. Obviously, Varik the Bold is her grandmother’s final parting gift.
Right?
A major misunderstanding, a dog-instigated chocolate disaster, and Odin’s magic heartwish ring have Delaney packing her bags and moving across the country from Chicago to a small coastal town in Oregon to escape her mortification.
The Viking’s Heartwish is book 1 of the Heartwishes series. This full-length contemporary romance novel is full of warmth and humor—with a very special touch of magic. It’s inspired by the author’s previously published novelette, Caroline’s Christmas Viking. While all Heartwishes books are part of a standalone series, you’ll enjoy them more if you read them in order. These are small town romances with happily-ever-afters, and no cliffhangers.
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Chapter One
Suburban Chicago: February 14
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LIKE A BOLD, GLORIOUS WARRIOR, the golden-haired stranger was garbed in reindeer hides and a horned helmet, brandishing a gleaming sword and shield. He was tall, with an impressive physique. Breathtaking. It didn’t matter that his impassioned words were in a language she didn’t understand. Her heart knew they shared the same soul-deep secret.
“Is it you?” she whispered. “My Viking? My Varik the Bold?”
With the hint of a smile, he nodded. Pursing his lips, the Viking blew the merest whisper of breath down the length of the sword he’d aimed at her heart. Watching the polished blade glint, she had no fear he’d come to slay her. On the contrary, his mission was to ensure her consummate pleasure.
Mesmerized, every fiber of her being tingled with longing as his blue-eyed gaze lovingly appraised her body. Reaching out to him, she silently beckoned. Upon sheathing his sword, his fingers extended toward her and she anticipated the thrill of feeling them exploring her flesh.
A sigh escaped her lips as she realized their physical union was imminent and she was about to be blissfully seized by her beloved Viking.
Lust, or perhaps it was love, danced in his eyes as his lips drew close and he whispered...
“I’ve got an early staff meeting. Can you put on a pot of green tea while I jump in the shower?”
~ ~ ~
“Hmmpf?”
No...oh please, no. The last thing Delaney Kullerton wanted was to be roused from her delicious dream, especially right before her Viking was about to—
“I need you to get up, Del. I’m running late.”
Cracking one eye open, Delaney spied the alarm clock on her nightstand, groaned and pulled the covers over her head. Four-thirty. An hour earlier than her usual wake up time. How cruel. She could have spent that hour wrapped in the arms of—
“Del! Come on, get up.” This time she was being poked and prodded, effectively eradicating the last delicious vestiges of her dream. If that weren’t enough, at the sound of his master’s voice, her husband’s gargantuan dog galloped into the bedroom, barking his fool head off.
Clapping her hands over her ears, Delaney admonished the creature—the dog, not her husband—with a firm, “Knock it off!” She threw back the covers and sat up. “Okay. Okay, Roger. Green tea.”
Late winter’s chill permeated the bedroom, invading her bones through the thick flannel of her nightshirt. Being a cheapskate as well as a health nut, Roger kept the thermostat set low to save money, and because he believed cold air was healthier.
Still foggy, she cocked her head in wonder. “Roger...I thought you said you didn’t have any classes today.” In the next instant, Ruff jumped up, bracing his front paws on the bed and giving her a big sloppy lick. Uttering an audible gasp, Delaney grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on her nightstand and wiped her face.
“Down, boy.” She pushed the beast off the bed. He sat there looking dejected but she refused to feel guilty. It was too damn early in the morning to be baptized with dog spit.
“They called a special faculty meeting,” Roger said.
“But I was hoping we could—”
“Could what? You’re working today, aren’t you?”
“Just until noon, remember? Maybe this afternoon we can—”
“It’s most likely an all-day meeting.”
“Oh.”
Ruff angled his head, whimpering as he looked at her, almost seeming to sense her disappointment. But that was ridiculous. He was nothing but a dumb, destructive, trouble-making canine.
Delaney didn’t know why she bothered to hope she and Roger might spend the afternoon together. Even if he remembered it was her birthday...and Valentine’s Day, which he never had in the past, he wouldn’t make any effort to celebrate it. Roger lumped birthdays and holidays, like Christmas and Valentine’s Day, into the same category. They were nothing but crass commercialism, just another excuse for retailers to line their pockets with his hard-earned money.
She remembered feeling cheated as a kid on her birthday once she was old enough to realize all the fuss was about some saint named Valentine, instead of celebrating the day she was born. With all the Valentine exchanging, and heart-shaped boxes of chocolate being given and received, people generally forgot about her birthday. She eventually grew used to it, not minding too terribly much because she told herself that one day when she grew up and got married, she’d have a wonderful, considerate husband who adored her enough to make her feel special on her birthday.
After marrying Roger, Delaney decided that on a list of husbandly qualities, the trait of ignoring birthdays and holidays probably wasn’t such an awful thing. Mature adults were supposed to overlook such minor disappointments. It was childish for her to expect to be the center of attention just because it happened to be the anniversary of her birth.
She eyed the toasty spot on the bed she’d just vacated, longing to return. Maybe if Roger hadn’t finished with his morning rituals she could squeeze in another fifteen minutes of cozy warmth. “Have you done your yoga and meditation yet?” she asked.
“Done,” he said. “I’m getting in the shower now.”
Delaney stifled a groan. “You want your smoothie for here or to go?” Giving in to a mighty yawn, she stretched and stepped into her fleece-lined slippers. Ruff was right at her side, acting all chummy because he knew she’d be feeding him and letting him outside once they got to the kitchen. Somehow Ruff’s care had mostly fallen on her shoulders.
“I’ll take it with me,” Roger said, entering the bathroom. “There won’t be anything to eat at the meeting except for donuts, bagels and muffins, and you know what I always say...”
Nodding, Delaney answered with the expected response, which was easy enough because she’d only heard the mantra a million times for each year they’d been married. “The devil’s in the white sugar and flour.”
“Remember that.” Roger pointed a cautionary finger.
“Always,” she replied. As if she could ever forget.
“Don’t forget to add the mustard greens leftover from last night’s salad.”
“I won’t.”
“And make sure to add the powdered wheatgrass and brewer’s yeast. You forgot them yesterday.”
“Okay. Sorry.” She stifled a shudder at his treasured combination of superfood ingredients.
“Remember to add the ground flaxseed after the yogurt and molasses so you don’t overheat the flax in the blender.”
“I’ll remember.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “I, um, don’t suppose you’ll be letting Ruff outside or filling his water or food dish before you leave.”
“No time. You’ll have to do it. While you’ve got the cutting board out, chop some fresh raw beet greens along with some of the turnip peels I told you to save. Add them to Ruff’s food dish along with a sprinkle of the brewer’s yeast and a clove of raw garlic. He loves it and it keeps him healthy.”
“Will do,” Delaney acknowledged to the closing door, nixing the juvenile urge to salute him with a crisp “Yes sir, Professor Kullerton, sir!” If Roger ever greeted her one morning with a sunny disposition or an affectionate peck on the cheek, she’d know without a doubt he’d been taken over by aliens...which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. The wicked thought had her chuckling.
She headed to the kitchen, following the merrily prancing Ruff. No way in hell would she add beets, turnips, brewer’s yeast or garlic to the dog’s food, not when she was the one stuck cleaning up after the animal. She’d learned the hard way that colorful-veggie-spiked dog food made for a disgusting elimination nightmare, nearly impossible to scoop up outside, much less clean off the deep pile carpet. Then there was the most godawful Caution: Gasmask Mandatory issue as a result of Ruff’s unbearably odoriferous gas wafting through the house.
About to open the patio door, she looked down at Ruff and sneered. “So you have a discriminating palate, do you? You love stinky colorful veggies and brewer’s yeast because they keep you healthy, hmm?” she scoffed. “Yeah, right. You’re nothing but a living, breathing four legged trash can.” The simple minded dog responded with a tongue-lolling smile.
After letting the dog out and seeing to his rations, Delaney plugged in her phone’s earpiece, tuning to one of her favorite playlists, a combo of jazz and rock selections. The earpiece was necessary to hide her listening choice from Roger, lest she get another tongue lashing about her mind-rotting music versus brain enriching classical music. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate classical, but Delaney preferred starting her day with something lively.
Stepping and swaying to the music as she quietly sang along, she opened a kitchen cabinet, smiling when she spotted the six-inch tall crocheted teddy bear greeting her.
The lopsided stuffed animal sat on the shelf between the canisters of green tea and coffee beans, a bar of premium milk chocolate nestled in its lap. The heart-shaped Valentine resting against its belly read, “Happy 35th birthday, Delaney! And Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart! Enjoy your special day. Have fun and celebrate! Love, hugs and kisses always...”
“Aw Roger...” she whispered as her fingertip traveled across the card embellished with hearts, flowers and a smiley face drawn in marker. “How sweet and thoughtful of you.” She closed her eyes and hugged herself, luxuriating in the loving feel of the message. It was the perfect visual to start her Valentine birthday morning.
It would have been even better if the note had actually been from Roger.
It wasn’t.
She only pretended it was.
She’d written it herself last night, setting it in on the tummy of the teddy bear she’d lovingly crocheted. Roger rarely opened kitchen cabinets, so Delaney wasn’t concerned he’d find her fanciful self-congratulatory display. Just as she’d planned, seeing the greeting first thing in the morning made a positive difference in her special day.
As far as Delaney was concerned, reality was overrated. Embroidering a touch of harmless fantasy atop reality made her happy...and happiness was every bit as healthy as greenish-gray drinks brimming with wheat grass juice. If that meant occasionally resorting to squirrelly behavior, like creating sweet notes and handmade teddy bears for herself and pretending they were from her unimaginative, unromantic husband, then so be it.
Mindlessly listening to the music, Delaney prepared Roger’s tea, allowing her thoughts to linger on the hunky nocturnal Viking. She’d had similar dreams multiple times over the years, frustrated and disappointed that they always ended at the same spot. Something inevitably interrupted before she and the gorgeous specimen of masculinity had an opportunity to become intimate.
She’d never be unfaithful to Roger in real life. He might be peculiar, persnickety, and sorely lacking when it came to romance, but he had plenty of positive qualities. She chose to focus on those. He was smart, well read, logical, ethical, organized, and a dedicated, caring educator. He was also passionate about his health and hers, tirelessly researching the latest scientific findings to ensure their hale and hearty longevity.
However, if living to a hundred and ten meant weak green tea and blended vegetable drinks each morning instead of indulging in an occasional donut and cup of coffee, she’d rather check out of life at a happy, well-fed ninety-five.
“My Viking wouldn’t ask for a soy yogurt molasses wheatgrass drink,” she muttered. “Varik the Bold would prefer a mug of strong brewed coffee, some eggs, bacon, sausage and a crusty chunk of bread slathered with real butter instead of soy margarine. No, scratch the coffee. He’d demand a tankard of ale.” She hoisted an invisible stein.
The thought of coffee made her sigh. She was dying for a cup but after ten years of marriage she knew better than to start the coffeepot before Roger left for the university. He refused to have his morning polluted with the odors of unhealthy food or drink.
She wished she could be as steady, rational and controlled as Roger. He couldn’t understand her habit of operating from emotion rather than logic, and failed to comprehend why she was so stubbornly optimistic, even in the face of opposing facts. He made no attempt to hide his disappointment at her lack of self-discipline when it came to her unhealthy addiction to chocolate either.
He was right, of course. Roger was always right.
Fortunately, he loved her enough to be remarkably patient and persistent. Although clearly frustrated by her frequent failings, Roger refused to give up on her.
“From now on I’m going to act more responsibly, more mature,” she vowed, measuring ingredients into the blender.
She’d start tonight by cooking Roasted Beet and Turnip Loaf, a recipe she’d found in Roger’s collection of health food cookbooks. Along with that, she’d serve Pureed Kale-Soy Gravy and a side of Rutabaga Tofu Puffs.
“And I’ll cook and serve it all without even gagging once.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I might even try to eat it.” Delaney smiled at the satisfying thought of serving a celebratory dinner on her special night...even if she couldn’t eat it.
“Roger will be ecstatic, absolutely transfixed by my new acumen in the kitchen.”
The tapping of dog nails on the patio door reminded her to let Ruff inside. She groaned when she saw he was caked with snow. He must have rolled around in it and now the stupid mutt would get it all over the house.
