This was the product of random browsing at one of Portland's tiny library branches (I've been forever spoiled by the vastness and quality of Santa Clara's main branch library. Portland's main branch is big and impressive-looking, but hard to navigate and surprisingly barren of books.) Random browsing is always hit-or-miss, and unfortunately this time it was a miss.
Anna is an interior designer (which, she explains exhaustively, is practically an architect and much more important and interesting than being a decorator) who buys a cottage in the country to fix up and sell for profit. In the process she's handed an abused ex-racing greyhound, makes friends with the requisite eccentric harried young mother next door, and falls in love with the neighborhood. A man for whom she's nursed an unrequited burning love for THREE YEARS shows up and becomes an obviously unsatisfactory boyfriend. She gradually realizes that she should be with the local guy who is just as frumpy and unpolished as she is and they live happily ever after.
This book was for the most part boring, boring, boring. I like fluffy books, and dogs, but this one was just trying too hard. Anna's persona is somewhat appealing, since she wanders around in overalls and work boots and hits things with hammers, but anyone who waits for someone they never even went on a date with for three years is just dumb. The Wrong Man is excessively flat, and the Right Man is a bit spastic. Not a winner, alas. I have not found myself a new fluff author.