The Plumber

The Renovation Project, Book Five
by Isla Wilde

Pairing: MF
Heat: 5/5 Inferno
Tropes: Age Gap, Blue Collar, Single Dad, Body Worship, Praise Kink, Forced Proximity, Reverse Harem, Found Family

She thought she knew how to give. He’s about to teach her how to receive.

Callie Monroe has spent her whole life taking care of everyone else—her dying mother, her absent father’s guilt, the endless needs of a crumbling Victorian house. Ford taught her permission. Jax taught her joy. Silas taught her instinct. Dane taught her surrender. But nothing prepared her for Mac O’Brien.

Mac is the heart of the brotherhood—the one who remembers birthdays, cooks for everyone, and holds the group together. A divorced father of two daughters, he knows what it means to love without limits. But his marriage fell apart because he gave too much and received too little. He won’t make that mistake again.

When he arrives to fix her exploding water heater, he brings more than wrenches and pipe fittings. He brings breakfast casseroles, dad jokes, and the radical idea that she deserves to be cared for too.

As they work side by side—restoring antique fixtures, uncovering hidden spaces, discovering that the house holds more secrets than either imagined—Callie learns that receiving pleasure isn’t selfish. It’s sacred.

And when the walls reveal their biggest clue yet about her grandmother’s forbidden love affair, Callie realizes that some loves are worth fighting for. Even the impossible ones.

The Plumber is Book Five of The Renovation Project, a high-heat reverse harem romance series featuring body worship, praise kink, single dad romance, found family dynamics, blue-collar heroes, and a woman discovering that the heart has room for more than she ever imagined. Contains explicit content intended for readers 18+. All activities are consensual between adults.

Content Notes

This book contains: explicit sexual content, significant age gap (16 years), body worship, massage/oil play, bathtub intimacy, praise kink, references to past divorce and childhood as caretaker, and the fifth book in a reverse harem series where the heroine is intimate with multiple partners (sequentially building toward group).

Exclusive Bonus Scene

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Read Chapter One Free

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Chapter One: The Flood

The water heater exploded at 6:47 AM on a Tuesday.

I know the exact time because I was staring at my phone, willing myself to get out of bed, when the sound came from the basement—a groaning, shrieking protest of metal giving way, followed by the unmistakable rush of water going places water should never go.

“No.” I threw off the covers. “No, no, no—”

By the time I reached the basement stairs, I could hear it. Not just water, but a waterfall. The kind of sound that meant my renovation budget was about to take another hit it couldn’t afford.

I was still in my sleep shirt—an oversized thing that barely covered my thighs—when I splashed down the last step into three inches of standing water.

“Shit. Shit shit shit—”

The water heater—a relic from the 1970s that Ford had warned me about—was gushing from a rupture in its side like a wounded animal. I knew enough to find the shutoff valve, but the basement was chaos. Boxes I hadn’t unpacked were floating. The water was rising. And I was alone.

My phone. Where was my phone?

Upstairs. Of course.

I splashed back through the flood, taking the stairs two at a time, and grabbed my phone with shaking hands.

Ford answered on the second ring. “Callie? Everything okay?”

“The water heater exploded. The basement is flooding. I don’t know where the main shutoff is and I’m freaking out and—”

“Breathe.” His voice was steady. Calm. “Mac’s on his way.”

“Mac?”

“Our plumber. I already texted him. He’ll be there in ten minutes.” A pause. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. Mac will take care of everything.”

Ten minutes later, a truck rumbled up my driveway—a big Ford F-250 with “O’Brien Plumbing” on the side. The man who climbed out was… not what I expected.

Built like a bear. That was the only way to describe him. Broad shoulders, barrel chest, the kind of solid presence that made you feel like nothing bad could happen as long as he was in the room. Reddish-brown beard, warm hazel eyes, and an easy smile that crinkled the corners of his face.

He was carrying a toolbox in one hand and a casserole dish in the other.

“Callie Monroe?” His voice was warm. Deep. The kind of voice that made you want to lean in and listen.

“That’s me. The basement’s flooding and I—”

“First things first.” He held up the casserole dish. “Breakfast. Ford said you probably haven’t eaten.”

I stared at him. “My basement is flooding.”

“And I’m going to fix it. But you—” He studied me with those warm eyes. “You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days. When’s the last time someone took care of you?”

The question hit me somewhere soft. Somewhere I kept protected.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Didn’t ask if you could.” He was already moving past me, heading for the kitchen. “Asked when someone else did. There’s a difference.”

He set the casserole dish on my counter—still warm, I realized—and turned to face me with that same patient smile.

“Eat. I’ll handle the flood. Then we’ll talk about what this old house needs.” His eyes swept over the kitchen, cataloging, assessing. “Because sweetheart, this is going to be a lot more than a water heater.”

He was right. About all of it.

I just didn’t know yet how much more.