Free Ellie's Advice (sweet romance) by Alice M. Roelke

resignation letter." In front of Leo, he placed a thick, blank piece of paper that exactly duplicated the poison pen papers and a large red marker that had the same sized tip as the ones used to write them.
    He'd been unable to trace any purchases of the same to Leo Hastings. His cop friend had told him to his face there was little they could do at this point. So he'd taken matters into his own hands and bought similar items.
    Leo flushed red at the sight of them . He may as well have confessed.
    He looked down at them for a long moment, then up to meet Shel's gaze, his arrogant eyes hooded. "She's not as good as I am. I wanted to rattle her, that's all."
    Shel had expected the man to deny everything, not make excuses. "On the contrary, I think she's much better than you, and you know if, you coward," said Shel quietly.
    Leo's flush deepened and he shoved back the chair, leaping to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. "You—"
    "Yes?" said Shel calmly, his fingers laced together.
    The man stared at him hard for a moment, breathing heavily, flexing his hands. Perhaps he could picture the headlines that would say Poison Pen, Columnist Punches Editor . Perhaps he could see jail in his future. Whatever he saw, his shoulders slumped.
    "You just want to bed her ," he mumbled. "You don't care how good her letters are." There was no fight in him now.
    "Get out." Shel had no memory of rising; he was simply on his feet. Now he was the one with fists clenching at his sides.
    Hastings smirked. "I'm going. I'm going somewhere I'll be appreciated!" He slammed the door on his way out.
    Shel looked down at the blank white paper and the bright red marker beside it. He reached down and nudged it slowly, first one way, then the other. Such a simple thing to be a vehicle for so much hatred.
    He sat down again and picked up the article he'd been reading. Eventually his heartbeat would slow to a calm rate; perhaps when he went to see Ellie this evening. Her bright smile and the pups would revive him, remind him of the good things in this world.
    Perhaps eventually he would even forget about Hastings and his desire to hurt Ellie simply because she was better at being a columnist than he was. But not today.

Chapter eight
    "Coming, coming!" Ellie called over the barking of the puppies. She weaved her way carefully around them as they jumped and leaped in excitement. Someone was knocking at her apartment door. Mrs. Fine had already gone home for the day, or she would've probably gotten to the door first.
    Ellie had a steep learning curve taking care of puppies, but fortunately she had help. Mrs. Fine was only too glad to take over some of their care, especially when Ellie paid her extra for it; and Shel came over nearly every day to check on them and help her take them for walks.
    They weren't housebroken yet, but they were down to one large square of newspaper. Out of loyalty, she'd promised never to use his newspaper as their waste area, but Shel had laughed and said, "Please do! Any sales help circulation, you know. Even if it's only to protect your floor from dogs."
    She'd laughed, too. There was something about Shel. His quiet kindness and gentle intelligence never grew old. She saw how hard he worked, knew how late he went home; and by now, she knew he was a widower.
    She'd bought him a new jacket, as she'd promised. A nice one. It had taken some effort to get him to accept it, but he'd given in eventually and gone to the fitting, and then returned smiling and looking like a million dollars.
    Not that he didn't always look good, because he clearly did. In his shirt sleeves, an old bathrobe, or a crisply cut suit. All the time, every way.
    She was fairly certain he would look amazing without any clothing at all, too, but she tried to keep those thoughts to a minimum. It was really none of her business to think such things, and impossibly rude.
    He made time almost every day to come over and see the pups and help with them — and talk to