Spotlight: Train Wreck by Elise Faber

train wreck
noun
 
1. A chaotic or disastrous situation.
2. An utter catastrophe or mess.
3. A devastating calamity or source of trouble.
4. Pepper O’Brien.
As the daughter of a famed film producer, Pepper O’Brien is Hollywood royalty.
 
Also, her life sucks.
 
Because, unfortunately for her, the old adage is true: money can’t buy everything—including grace, true love, or the ability to not screw up every single opportunity her life has brought her.
 
After her latest disaster, Pepper moves across the country to start over but, as usual, her life has other plans, namely in the form of Derek Cashette, her former teenage crush and now ridiculously handsome friend of her older brother.
 
Derek is determined to salvage the train wreck of her life and Pepper’s determined not to let him. Her life is her problem and, dammit, why can’t she be her own hero?
 
But sometimes fate has other plans. Or maybe it’s hormones. Especially when her rescuer comes with a killer smile, a chest Thor would be jealous of, and a butt that any girl just wants to—

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About the Author

Aside from writing romance, Elise’s passions are chocolate, Star Wars, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team — the Sharks! — are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise is the mom to two exuberant boys and is thoroughly addicted to Dancing With the Stars. Connect with her on facebook (facebook.com/elisefaberauthor), twitter (@faberelise), instagram (@elisefaber) or www.elisefaber.com.

Spotlight: Storming the Castle by Arianna Hart

Sam Castleton has fame, houses all over the world, and one really big problem—he’s got an album due and he can’t write. All he wants is a quiet place to get his head straight. Dale, Georgia, seems like the perfect quiet spot to try to hear the music again and get some lyrics down on paper.

With her daughter’s paternal grandparents making a sudden appearance and the difficulties of running her own lodge and being a single mom, Faith Adams doesn’t have the time to worry about the mysterious stranger staying in one of her cottages, no matter how sexy he is.

Her newest guest may be surly, but his money is good, so she’s willing to overlook his surly nature. If only she could ignore the way he awakens a searing hunger in her…

Excerpt

“Knock-knock. Sam?” Faith called in through the door as she opened it. It was the first time she’d been in the blue cottage since the night she’d shown it to him. The flowers she’d left for him were dead, and he had two full bags of garbage tied up and set near the door, but other than that, the place didn’t look half bad. Clean dishes rested on a drying board next to the sink, some pencils and paper were on the coffee table, and a half-full bottle of Gatorade was on the kitchen counter. Considering she hadn’t been in to tidy up, it was a pleasant surprise.

“I’ll be down in a second,” he answered from the loft.

She could smell soap and steam and figured he must have just taken a shower. Don’t think about him walking around up there naked.

“I can leave the laundry basket and come back if you’d like.”

“No, it’s—shit—fine.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, just irritating. I waited too long to do laundry and now I only have one pair of clean jeans left.”

“I can take care of that in no time.”

“I mean, that’s all I have left. One pair of jeans. All my shirts and stuff are nasty.”

“Oh.” Faith’s face got hot as she realized what he wasn’t saying. His bare feet appeared on the steps and she tried not to look at the front of his jeans and imagine him going commando underneath.

Thank God, the pile of laundry he carried blocked his view of her, because she was sure she was staring. A thin line of dark hair trailed from his belly button down to the waistband of his low slung jeans and a few drops of water sparkled in the light.

For the last two weeks, every time she’d seen Sam, he’d been in running shorts and a T-shirt. Seeing him shirtless sent her blood pressure through the roof. Her mouth watered and she imagined capturing those droplets with her tongue as she followed the path to what waited behind the fly.

“I think this is all of it,” he said, dropping the pile of laundry on the couch.

“Did you remember your towels? I brought you some new ones.” Her voice was thick and raspy, and she tried to discreetly clear her throat while looking anywhere but at his naked chest.

“Yeah, they’re in the pile.”

“Good. Great. I’ll just strip the…ah, the bed and put on the new sheets.” She scooped the clean linen out of the laundry basket and bolted for the stairs. “Just put your laundry in the basket, and I’ll bring it with me when I go back to the house.”

If her face got any hotter, she’d burst into flame.

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About the Author

Arianna Hart enjoys spending time with her family, reading anything she can get her hands on, and of course writing! She’d love to spend her days on a beach with a drink in one hand and a book in the other, but until she wins the lottery she’ll just have to settle for chasing her girls around the pool. 

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Spotlight: Trusting You and Other Lies by Nicole Williams

USA Today and New York Times bestselling author Nicole Williams delivers a seductive summer romance worth swooning over. Perfect for fans of Sarah Dessen and Stephanie Perkins.

Phoenix can't imagine anything worse than being shipped off to family summer camp. Her parents have been fighting for the past two years--do they seriously think being crammed in a cabin with Phoenix and her little brother, Harry, will make things better? 
On top of that, Phoenix is stuck training with Callum--the head counselor who is seriously cute but a complete know-it-all. His hot-cold attitude means he's impossible to figure out--and even harder to rely on. But despite her better judgment, Phoenix is attracted to Callum. And he's promising Phoenix a summer she'll never forget. Can she trust him? Or is this just another lie? 

Excerpt

It felt like hardly any time had passed at all before the bike slowed when we made it into Flagstaff. Callum took a sudden turn that led away from the main part of the city, and we weren’t on that road long before it opened up into a parking lot.
My arms tightened around him when I scanned the parking lot. Other than the bike’s headlight, I couldn’t make out any-thing else.
“Okay, we’re stopped now. Think you could ease up your death grip on me before you crush my liver?” He parked the bike and turned off the engine.
It was so quiet out here. Scary quiet. “Where are we?” I loosened my grip, but I didn’t let go.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Don’t you like a surprise?”
“Not when I’m in the middle of some dark parking lot late at night.”
Callum fought a smile. “It’s barely eight. Not quite the witching hour.”
An owl hooted from somewhere in the woods. I jumped. “Where the hell are we?”
He stopped fighting his smile. “The Lowell Observatory. Perfectly safe and nonthreatening, I swear.”
“What are we observing?”
Callum waited for my arms to drop at my sides before sliding off the bike. “Pretty much anything you want to up there.” He tipped his head and looked up at the sky.
My head followed. “The stars? That’s what we’re going to be looking at?”
“Stars, moons, planets. Take your pick.” He helped me undo the helmet’s chin strap after I fought with it on my own for a few seconds. “This is one of my favorite places.”
“In Arizona?”
“Anywhere,” he answered, pulling a small flashlight from his pocket and turning it on. He pointed it in the direction of a sidewalk and started toward it, making sure I was close beside him.
“How many times have you been here?” I asked.
“I come a few times every summer, more when I was coming here with my family.”
I kept my focus on the light in front of us. With that bright beam, the black didn’t seem so thick around us.
“So are you into astronomy?” I asked.
“You could say that.” When another owl hooted, I didn’t leap out of my boots. This time I barely flinched. Callum’s presence calmed me. “But I didn’t know it the first time I came. I only started getting into astronomy a few years ago.”
“Why did you first start coming here?” We were getting closer to what I guessed was the observatory, but nothing about it screamed tourist attraction.
“It was Ben’s idea, I guess. He knew about the trouble my brother was getting into at home and that I was following in his footsteps. He has this freaky way of looking at a person and knowing what they’re feeling or what they’re thinking. Those first couple of summers at camp he used to be able to take one look at me and know when I was about to do something I’d probably regret.” He paused and shook his head. “I really hated Ben at first.”
“And now you love him.” I nudged him as we approached a doorway.
“And now I respect him. I appreciate what he’s doing and why he does it.” He turned off the flashlight and held open the door for me.
“So your mom would bring you here to look up at the sky and your problems were solved?”
He chuckled softly. “That’s what Ben tried to sell. He said there was nothing like looking up at the universe to make my problems shrivel into nonexistence.”
“Is that doubt I’m detecting in your voice?”
“That’s I- know- better- from- experience in my voice.” Callum
waved at a lady sitting behind a counter at the front and led me inside. It was dark in here, too, which made me shift a bit closer to Callum. “Ben tried really hard to sell me on the perspective thing, but, I don’t know, looking up at the stars or thinking about the size of the universe didn’t make my issues seem any smaller or less significant. They were still the exact same size when I walked out of this place.”
“Then why did you keep coming back?” I asked as he stopped behind the biggest telescope I’d seen in real life.
“Because it got me out of my head, you know?” he answered immediately. “It got me to focus on something else for a while, and even though I’d leave here with the same problems I walked in with, they felt more manageable. More like I could handle them.”
I hadn’t expected him to open up like that. That was becoming a trend when it came to Callum. One minute he came off as the most closed- off person I’d ever met, and the next he could spill his guts. “And then you fell in love with the stars,” I said, watching him as he looked through the telescope, making a few adjustments on the dials.
“And then I did.” He made one last adjustment before motioning me to look. Even though it was dark, his eyes were glowing. I’d seen him in his element this summer, but never like this. If this wasn’t passion, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen it.
“So you’re saying this place has played a totally insignifi-cant role in your life?” I smiled at him as I moved up to the telescope.
“Completely insignificant.” He stepped aside to give me room to look.
I wound my hair around one shoulder, closed one eye, and leaned over so I could peek through the eyepiece. I could have been looking at a star just as easily as I could have been looking at a planet or a moon. I didn’t feel my problems drifting away from me by the masses, disappearing into the Milky Way, but just like Callum had said, somehow they felt less overwhelming. Less powerful.
The longer I stared up there, the stronger I felt down here. “I get it,” I whispered after another minute, feeling like the entire universe was staring back at me as I gazed into it.
He took a step closer. “I knew you would.”

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About the Author

Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

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Read an excerpt from The War Queen by J.M. Robison

300 years ago, the people dethroned their king and queen to prevent another tyranny. Now instead, the people nominate a State Head every three years and Altarn is the first female to hold the position. She’s used to tolerating the biases of men but Kaelin, the State Head of his territory, has declared her incompetent and has even, according to Altarn, threatened to steal her land – she believes he wants to make himself king. Believing she must “dethrone” Kaelin, Altarn rides to her last ally to ask for aid in the war against Kaelin she knows is coming.  But in her absence an army launches an attack… and it’s not Kaelin’s.
 
Taking advantage of the startling situation, Kaelin kidnaps Altarn so he can take her land without her in the way. Soon realizing he needs her help to fight this army instead, he releases her and, since Altarn’s army is too small to win the war alone, she is forced to accept his help, but payment for his help will be her land. No one believes Kaelin is secretly trying to make himself king, so after the battle is won, alone in her knowledge and lacking allies, Altarn must become the War Queen of legend to dethrone another king… though she unexpectedly dethrones his heart instead.

Excerpt

Altarn threw open the door into the training yard. Dropping her cloak on the ground, she stomped across the yard to the target constructed out of wooden logs to resemble a person—resemble a man. A small pail of white paint and a brush next to the target claimed her attention. She stared at the pail, disbelief somehow wedging room between her clashing war with anger and hurt.

Do they know me that well? She couldn’t decide if she should be offended or grateful by the gesture.

She decided gratitude.

She dipped the brush in the paint and slashed it across the chest of the target to spell the name, Jessom.

Gathering a winged shorn in each hand, she stepped toward the target and sliced into it with an angry wildness she would disapprove of in her troops. Every strike became harsher, her angry grunts louder. She targeted the chest over and over so the still-wet name there became daggered smears of white paint.

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About the Author

J.M. Robison is a fantasy historian who chronicles the events which force heroes to reveal their  mistakes, lead rebellions to dethrone tyranny, and unearth ancient secrets to free the oppressed. Having joined the U.S. Army at 17 with a deployment to Afghanistan and Romania, and currently working as a Deputy Sheriff, J.M. Robison has seen a lot of people and been to a lot of places; the evidence of which frequently bleeds into her writing. She loves and uses essential oils. She makes her own shampoo, lotions, laundry soap, face wash, and toothpaste.

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Spotlight: The Bad Luck Bride by Jane Goodger

Welcome to St. Ives, the charming seaside town where even a down-on-her luck bride might find her way back to love . . .

As if being left at the alter for the third time isn’t bad enough, Lady Alice Hubbard has now been dubbed “The Bad Luck Bride” by the London newspapers. Defeated, she returns to her family’s estate in St. Ives, resolved to a future as a doting spinster. After all, a lady with her record of marital mishaps knows better than to dream of happily-ever-after. But then Alice never expects to see Henderson Southwell again. Her beloved brother’s best friend disappeared from her life soon after her brother’s death. Until now…

Alice is just as achingly beautiful as Henderson remembers. And just as forbidden. For the notorious ladies’ man made one last promise to Alice’s brother before he died—and that was never to pursue her. But one glimpse of Alice’s sorrow and Henderson feels a powerful urge to put the light back in her lovely eyes, one lingering kiss at a time. Even if it means falling in love with the one woman he can never call his bride . . .

Excerpt

If only her fiancé had died five minutes after the ceremony instead of five minutes before, Alice wouldn’t be in her current, unfathomable, situation.

A terrible thought, yes, but there was never a truer sentiment to go through her mind.

He was late. Her current and very much alive fiancé was terribly, horribly, embarrassingly late, and the vicar was giving her sad looks and the congregation was whispering, and Alice felt like she might scream for them all to just shut up. Harvey Reginald Heddingford III, Viscount Northrup, whom she actually liked (the first of her three fiancés whom she actually had liked) had apparently grown ice cold feet.

It wasn’t much of a surprise, actually.
The night before he’d seemed…off. Distracted. Overly nice. Guilty. That’s when the first niggling feeling of doubt touched her but she forced herself to ignore it. Certainly three men couldn’t leave her at the altar. Though to be fair, Bertram Russell, her second ill-fated fiancé, was ousted by her enraged father long before she’d set foot in the church. Bertram had been found out—not one week before their planned nuptials—to be a complete fraud. He made ordinary fortune hunters seem like innocent children dabbling at seducing marriage out of highly placed, rich women.

One dead. One fraud. One very, very late.

This could not be happening again. She stood in the vestibule with her father and sister, dread slowly wrapping around her like a toxic fog, making it almost impossible to breathe. As she waited for her groom to make an appearance, knowing he would not, Alice vowed she would never, ever, be put in this position again. When she saw Vicar Jamison coming toward the spot where she stood with her father, Alice knew it was over. She couldn’t seem to gather the energy to cry and in fact had the terrible urge to laugh, something she sometimes did at the worst possible moment. Actually, other than feeling a bit off kilter and extremely humiliated, she felt nothing at all. Certainly not heartbroken.

“Lord Hubbard,” the vicar said, giving her father a small bow. “It may be time to address the congregation.”

Her dear, dear, papa looked at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I think I must.”

Alice nodded and pressed her hands, still holding her silly bouquet, into her stomach. God, the humiliation. This was far worse than Bertram and, well, poor Lord Livingston was deemed a tragedy, not a humiliation. People at least felt sorry for her when her first ill-fated husband-to-be dropped dead waiting for her to walk down the aisle. Just five more minutes and she might have been a widow, and a widow was a far better thing to be than a jilted bride.

It was all her sister’s fault. Christina had been fussing with her gown, fixing something in the bustle, insisting that Alice would never get the chance to be a bride again (what a lark) and everything must be absolutely perfect for that most important day when Alice would have become a baroness. And then Lord Livingston died, right then, right as he walked toward the front of the church. Dropped like a stone without warning and was dead before he hit the hard marble floor with a sickening thud. Instead of Lady Livingston or Lady Northrup, she was still Miss Hubbard and it looked like she would be Miss Hubbard for the rest of her days.

Christina stood, eyes wide with horror, as their father walked slowly to the front of the church. The large room became deathly quiet, and Alice turned, grabbed her sister’s arm, and walked out the front door of the church. She couldn’t bear to see the pity in their eyes, nor the tears in her mother’s. Certainly Mama had never suspected her eldest daughter would once again be abandoned by her groom. Thank God they’d decided to get married in London and not St. Ives, where the villagers would have likely gathered to celebrate her marriage. No one was about except for the normal crowds.
“I’ll murder him,” Christina said feelingly when they reached their carriage. The startled footman hurriedly dropped the steps and then handed the sisters into the carriage, which was meant to carry the happy

couple to their wedding breakfast.
Alice tore off her veil then gave her ferocious sister a weak smile. “I think he was in love with Patricia Flemings.”

“No!” Christina said with the conviction of someone who cannot accept the fact that anyone could choose a Flemings over a Hubbard. Their father, Lord Richard Hubbard, was the third son of the fifth Duke of Warwick, and though he held no title, his connection to the great duke had put their family firmly in the lofty realm of the ton. Christina adored working “my grandfather, the Duke of Warwick” into as many

conversations as possible, no matter what the topic. At eighteen, Christina was looking forward to her first season and was no doubt wondering how this latest wedding debacle with her sister would hurt her chances of

making a good match.

Alice realized she was officially a hopeless case, and would no doubt become the terrible punch line to jokes told from Nottinghamshire to Cornwall. You’ve heard of Alice Hubbard—or is it Miss Havisham? Charles Dickens had done her no favor by portraying a jilted bride as such a bitterly tragic character. Alice didn’t feel bitter, at least not at the moment, but she suspected she could not escape the label of ‘tragic.’ Now she would have to hide away for a time at their country estate in St. Ives, which wasn’t such a sacrifice, as St. Ives was her favorite place in all the world. Perhaps in her elder years she could be chaperone to her sister’s beautiful daughters. She would be known by them as “my poor spinster aunt who never found love.”

Three fiancés and she had hardly tolerated any of them, never mind loved them. She’d only loved one man in her life but he, of course, did not love her. And that, perhaps, was the most humiliating thing of all.

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About the Author

Jane Goodger lives in Rhode Island with her husband and three children. Jane, a former journalist, has written seven historical romances. When she isn’t writing, she’s reading, walking, playing with her kids, or anything else completely unrelated to cleaning a house.

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Spotlight: Sanctuary by Laurie Larsen

Hardworking, successful lawyer Nora Ramsey, was at the height of her career. Now, she's questioning everything in Murrell's Inlet, South Carolina.

When she accepts her aunt's dilapidated estate as her inheritance, Nora is plagued with misgivings and doubt. When one of her newly inherited horses takes ill, she prays for guidance and receives it in the form of veterinarian Shaw Flynn. 

Dedicated and rugged, he assists Nora through the trying time. In Shaw, she sees someone gentle, caring and deeply devoted to God. The more she’s with him, the more he inspires her to embrace her own faith. And as their relationship blossoms into a something real and beautiful—like the coastal sunsets of Murrell’s Inlet—Nora stumbles upon Shaw’s deepest secret. Her trust is destroyed and the wisdom of her life-changing decision shaken as the future she envisioned is threatened.

As the truth becomes clear, can she find forgiveness within the sanctuary of her heart or will his betrayal destroy her faith in him once and for all?

Excerpt

Nora processed the stack of mail.  One thick legal-sized envelope grabbed her attention.  The return address was a law firm in South Carolina.  A closer look revealed that the law firm was in Myrtle Beach.  She shrugged and slid her finger under the envelope flap, pulled out the contents.  She scanned the professionally prepared letter, frowned and read it again.  She gasped and reached for her phone.

A few rings later, her sister Patty answered.  “Hey sis, long time no …”

“Aunt Edie died?” she demanded.

“Uhhh, hello to you too,” she said pointedly.

Nora huffed, taking care of social niceties so she could get to the real information she wanted.  “Yes, hello Patty, hope you’re well, did you have a nice day?  And oh, by the way, did Aunt Edie die?”

“Yes,” her sister said, wisely getting to the point.  “Like a month ago.”

“Holy smokes!  Why am I just finding out about it now?”

“I don’t know.  When was the last time you spoke to Aunt Edie?”

“Well … never.  But just because we didn’t have a personal relationship doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to be filled in on family news, such as my favorite aunt from childhood dying.”

“Okay, sorry. Aunt Edie died from prolonged effects of the stroke she had about six months ago.  You knew about that?”

“Yes.”

“She was hospitalized after her stroke, eventually moving to a long-term care facility, and never really recovered.  It was really more of a blessing than a sorrow that she passed on to be with the Lord.”

This news induced a wave of sadness over her.  Aunt Edie, all alone, self-sufficient for the long years of her adulthood, suddenly unable to take care of herself.  “Who took care of her?”

“You mean, who got her the care she needed?”

Nora shook her head, overwhelmed at all the details that had needed to be taken care of, the decisions that were made.  Who helped her after her stroke?  Who selected the place where they nursed her?  Who visited her in her final months?  Days?  “Yeah.”

“She had good friends there in Murrells Inlet.  She was a huge part of the community.  She had church friends, neighbors.  She was taken care of.”

“Wow,” she breathed.  The reality and permanence of Aunt Edie’s situation permeated her mind.  She would be Aunt Edie in a few decades.  Alone, nobody checking on her.  Except instead of being in a quaint beach town where neighbors watched out for each other, Nora would be in a pricey Philadelphia high-rise with a doorman and security doors where nobody knew their neighbors.  When it came her time, would anyone even realize she was gone?

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, sis.  I figured Mom would.”

Nora shrugged and said, “Yeah.”  Mom probably would, if she’d done a better job of calling her regularly.  Nora cringed when she thought of how many voicemails she’d received from Mom in the last month that she never returned.  Or returned, but gave her a five minute time limit.  Maybe Mom was meaning to tell her about Aunt Edie and Nora just hadn’t made enough of an effort.  But with her long days and exhausting schedule, the last thing she wanted to do was sit with a phone plugged to her ear for an hour listening, or pretending to listen, to all the details of her mother’s retired life.  

She squeezed her eyes shut and said a quick prayer of apology to God for that awful thought.  She was lucky to still have a mother.  She’d make an effort to stay in closer touch.

“So did you get your inheritance?” Patty asked.

“Huh?”

“I assumed that’s why you’re calling.  You got the inheritance letter from Aunt Edie’s lawyer?”

“Oh.”  Nora shuffled through the small stack of papers.  She hadn’t even gotten past the cover page where she’d learned of Aunt Edie’s death.  Yes, the next few were the will.  The lawyer had included the general wording, then had gone straight to the punch with what Aunt Edie had left her.

“Oh, my gosh.”

“What?  What did she leave you?”

Nora stared, her mouth dropped open.  The generosity of the inheritance astounded her.  “What … what did she leave you?”

“She left us money to put into a college savings account for the girls.”

“Oh, how nice,” Nora said slightly, still staring at the page.

“Yes, it sure was.  I mean, Joe and I had of course started saving for the girls’ college.  But Aunt Edie’s gift will go a long way towards their expenses.  And if there’s any money left over, we can give them each a gift of funds to start their adult lives with.”

“Yeah,” Nora said.

A quiet moment passed while she fully absorbed what her aunt was leaving her.  

“So what did you get?”

Nora took a breath.  “You’re not going to believe this, Patty.”

“What?”

“Aunt Edie left me all her property.  Ten acres, a barn and the house in Murrells Inlet.  Everything – furniture, farm equipment.”

“Wow.”

“That’s … extremely generous.”

“Yeah.”

A guilty wave came over her.  Why would Aunt Edie leave her such a generous inheritance when she hadn’t even stayed in touch with the woman over the last few decades?  When was the last time she’d seen Edie?  Spoken to her?  “I’m having trouble understanding why she’d leave this to me.”

“Aunt Edie loved you.  And me.  Both of us.  She never had kids so we were like her children.”

“Yes, I remember going to this place every summer as kids.”

“Lots of sentimental value for the both of us.”

“But … why me?”

“I guess Aunt Edie wanted to help take care of my girls.  And since you don’t have kids, and she knew you loved visiting there, that gift was more appropriate for you.”

Nora hesitated, not exactly sure how to put her concerns into words.  Until she just came out with it.  “Are you mad that she left the property to me?”

“Not at all,” Patty insisted.  “No. Her gifts were well thought out.  I live in the Midwest.  I have kids to raise.  What would I do with a beach front farm property?”

Nora nodded.  So, no hard feelings there.  That was a relief.  “Wait.  I’m a partner in a law firm in Philadelphia.  What am I going to do with a beach front farm property?”

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About the Author

Award-winning author Laurie Larsen leads a double life.  During the day she's a respected Project Manager in the fast-paced world of Information Technology.  After dinner and a glass of wine, she becomes a multi-published author of Christian fiction grounded in today's modern world.

Laurie's been published for 17 years, but feels she finally found her writing "niche" in 2009 when her first inspirational romance, Preacher Man was published.  It won fans, accolades, and the prestigious EPIC Award for the Best Spiritual Romance of 2010.  From then on, her path was clear.  She was put on this earth (in part) to tell love stories combined with a strong message of faith.  Her Pawleys Island Paradise series is a much beloved, at times best-selling series of six books following Leslie and Hank, and the Harrison clan, as they face the daily challenges of life while trying to include prayer and praise.  Reviewers say the books are heartwarming, life-changing and an example to follow for including God in your life.

Laurie loves the beach (obvious to anyone who's read the Pawleys Island Paradise series) and she's fondly looking forward to a day (not too far away) where she can retire from the demanding day job, and spend her days living at the beach and writing novels.  Until then, she travels back and forth between Illinois and South Carolina just as often as possible. 

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