Excerpt 1
“Are you ready to kick everyone’s ass, Blade Runner?” Miles clapped Hayden on the back.

“Blade Runner?” West asked.

Miles pointed at Hayden’s left leg. The prosthetic blade he wore when he ran was partially obscured by Xander’s beefy calf. “Even as a wounded warrior, he smokes the field.”

West’s face paled. “You lost your leg? In Afghanistan?”

Gavin McAlister wrapped an arm over Hayden’s shoulders. “He gave that leg to save two other soldiers. And don’t think we let this guy win this thing every year. He kicks our asses fair and square.”

The bullhorn squeaked when Bernice turned it on, causing the crowd to grimace. “Okay, we are almost ready to start,” she shouted into it. “Everyone be safe and have fun.”

West shot Hayden a pained look as the others jostled for position along the starting line. Hayden swore. He hated the pitying looks he got when people found out about his injury. And it especially stung coming from this man.

“Show me what you got,” Hayden challenged.

A slow grin formed on the reporter’s face. The horn went off, and the sea of bodies surged forward. West had the smooth stride of a man who ran for the joy of it. He easily kept pace with Hayden and Elle’s brothers.

The high school runners sprinted to the front. A rookie move. They’d tire out before the halfway point.

Livi wasn’t lying when she said she was in a running club. She kept an easy pace beside him without breaking a sweat. He glanced over his shoulder at Elle who was huffing and puffing several yards back. When their eyes met, she gave him a pathetic thumbs-up before waving her hand as if telling him to shoo.

At the halfway point, West had settled in with the high schoolers. The McAlister brothers peeled off—Miles for a photo-op with his constituents, and Ryan and Gavin for an iced coffee Lois was handing out. Livi lengthened her stride.

“Come on, Hayden. You don’t want to let that old man beat you,” she said, gesturing to West.

No way was that old man beating Hayden. Neither was anyone else, for that matter. Time to make his move. He let Livi have the front for a few strides before taking one last look back at Elle.

Just in time to see her go down in a heap.

 

Excerpt 2
A miniature Christmas tree sat front and center on the round kitchen table. It was decorated with photos of holidays from years past. Many of them were of Elle and Hayden sitting on Santa’s lap. Hayden’s grandfather, the town’s postmaster, had played the part of Santa for a quarter of a century.

Elle pulled her arm free to get a closer look. She fingered the photos, many of them worn with age.

“I’ve never seen these,” she whispered.

He made a rough sound with his throat. “My grandmother kept them.”

“Such precious photos.”

Tears suddenly stung the back of her eyes. The man behind her had played a role in so many of her memories—good and bad. It hurt to think that part of her life could be over.

“How did we get so messed up?” she asked, not bothering to turn around.

He was silent behind her for so long, she thought he’d left her again. But when she worked up the courage to face him, it was to see him looking as wrecked as she felt. It pained her to take a breath.

“I don’t want to lose you, Hayden.”

With a slight shake of his head, he stalked across the room to her. They stood facing each other, less than an inch separating them for what felt like hours until . . . She wasn’t sure who kissed who first, but it didn’t matter. Teeth and tongues clashed as they tried to get as close to one another as possible.

Hayden’s hands were suddenly everywhere. In her hair. Along her back. Burning a path along her skin beneath her fleece. When his mouth moved to explore the curve of her neck, she tilted her head to give him better access.

Elle wasn’t going to let the opportunity to explore the body she’d been fantasizing about all week go to waste. She tugged his Henley free of his jeans and slipped her fingers beneath it. He nipped at her jaw when her fingers made contact with his ridiculously flat abs. His thumb brushed over one of her nipples, already sensitive and aroused, and her knees almost buckled. He groaned when her fingers tangled up in the happy trail of hair leading below the waistline of his jeans.

“Either tell me to stop, or tell me you want this, Elle.” His teeth grazed her ear. “But you have to decide. Now.”

 

Excerpt 3“Do you know who Everett West is?” Madelaine asked.
Everyone with access to a television knew who Everett West was. He’d been a globe-trotting war reporter for the past thirty-five years.

“He’s writing his memoir,” Elle responded. “We are serializing it in the magazine. The number of readers downloading the chapters has quadrupled over the past three months.”

Helen beamed at her. “Impressive. You know your stats about other aspects of the magazine besides your own.”

“The serialization is meant to whet the appetite of readers in hopes of getting them to order the book when we release it in July,” Madelaine explained.

“The problem we have,” Helen added, “is that Everett hasn’t quite finished the manuscript despite signing a contract stipulating he would complete it by the first of this month.”

“Oh.” Elle looked between the two women, still unsure what this had to do with her.

Helen shook her head. “Mm. Men aren’t always good at keeping their promises as I’m sure you are aware, Elinor.”

Whoa!

Was Helen apologizing for her worm of a grandson?

Madelaine leaned forward in her chair. “We need Everett to finish this book by the end of the year, or the magazine will run out of material to serialize.”

“And we won’t have any way to fulfill those preorders,” Elle added.

“Exactly!” Helen slapped her palm on the table.

Elle continued to gaze at the two women, trying to divine some sort of explanation as to why they were telling her this. “That’s a serious problem for the entire company.”

“Everett doesn’t seem to be able to focus on the manuscript here in New York.” Madelaine sighed. “Too many distractions.”

“Too many cronies to go out drinking with, you mean,” Helen muttered.

If Madelaine agreed with her boss’ sentiments, she was too professional to show it. “We need him to go someplace quiet, someplace with a lot slower pace and fewer diversions so he can buckle down and get the job done.”

The man had reported from deep below the ocean inside a Polaris submarine, while rumbling along in a tank in Iraq, and even while embedded in the Afghan desert with special forces. Surely, he didn’t need a convent to finish his memoir? He already knew the ending, after all.

“Do you need me to research some potential places?” Elle asked.

“No, no, dear girl.” Helen waved a hand. “In fact, Jeremy gave me the most brilliant idea earlier this week when we met for dinner. He was reminiscing wistfully about the wonderful times he spent when you two visited your mother’s inn in North Carolina.”

Elle tried not to bristle. Why would Jeremy be “reminiscing wistfully” about the Tide Me Over Inn? He only visited there twice. Now that she thought about it, both times he found something to complain about—from the inn to Chances Inlet. He’d found the whole town to be “provincial.”

“My mother’s inn? You want Mr. West to go there to finish his book?”

Both women nodded.

“Um, sure. I’m happy to check with her to see what openings she has. Christmas time is usually as popular as the summer months in Chances Inlet, though. I can research some backup inns just in case.”

Please, Mom, don’t let your inn be full.

“No need.” Helen grinned. “I’ve already spoken with your mother. She’s arranged a suite for Everett through the end of the year.”

“Oh.” Elle was surprised her mom hadn’t said something to her. “That’s great. Do you need me to make any other arrangements for him?”

“Everything is all taken care of.” Helen stood. “You’ll both be flying out first thing tomorrow. Everett has less than five weeks to finish his damn book. I’m counting on you, Elinor, to see that he does. If it comes down to it, chain him to a chair. Stand over him twenty-four hours a day. Whatever it takes.” She gave Elle’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as she walked past. “I know you’re up to the task.”

The publisher was out of the room before Elle realized the impact of her words.

“Wait. What?” she whispered. “No, no, no.”