Debbie Macomber: Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-6)

Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-6)

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“As always, Macomber draws rich, engaging characters.”

—Publishers Weekly on Thursdays at Eight

“A multifaceted tale of romance and deceit, the final installment of Macomber’s Dakota trilogy oozes with country charm and a strong sense of community.”

—Publishers Weekly on Always Dakota

“Macomber closes book two with a cliffhanger, leaving readers anxiously awaiting the final installment to this first-rate series.”

—Publishers Weekly on Dakota Home

“Ms. Macomber provides the top in entertaining relationship dramas.”

—Reader to Reader

“Sometimes the best things come in small packages. Such is the case here….”

—Publishers Weekly on Return to Promise

“Macomber’s storytelling sometimes yields a tear, at other times a smile.”

—Newport News, VA Daily Press

“Popular romance writer Macomber has a gift for evoking the emotions that are at the heart of the genre’s popularity.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Well-developed emotions and appealing characters.”

—Publishers Weekly on Montana

Dear Friends,

Welcome to Cedar Cove, Washington. I hope you enjoy meeting my new friends. And I hope that once you do, you’ll feel as comfortable with Olivia, Grace, Charlotte, Cecilia, Jack, Ian, Seth and all the others as you would your own next-door neighbors. You see, they’re my neighbors. Well…not exactly. Cedar Cove is based on my own hometown of Port Orchard, Washington, but the characters and their stories come from my imagination. However, anyone who’s walked the streets of Port Orchard will recognize buildings and events I’ve described. The library, the new City Hall, even the Seagull Calling contest are part and parcel of life in Port Orchard.

After creating stories that involved Alaska, Texas and North Dakota, I received dozens of letters with suggestions for stories in other states. While I was trying to make up my mind, it occurred to me that there are few places I enjoy more than my own beautiful state of Washington. Every small town I’ve created over the years, whether it was in Alaska or Texas, was a bit of life as I know it—the life I experienced raising my own family right here in Port Orchard. With the Cedar Cove series, I’m just making it official.

Before you ask about the length of this series, I’ll tell you. The answer is that I don’t know. It’ll be as many books as it takes to tell all the stories. My goal, as always, is to enable you to pick up the first book or the tenth and immediately experience a sense of welcome.

So sit back and enjoy some romance, with a bit of mystery with a little wisdom thrown in. Acquaint yourself with a whole community of new friends. I know they’re all anxious to introduce themselves to you!

P.S. I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366 or through my website at www.debbiemacomber.com.

In memory of

Rita Adler

December 26, 1950–December 12, 2000

We shall miss you.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Cecilia Randall had heard of people who, if granted one wish, would choose to live their lives over again. Not her. She’d be perfectly content to blot just one twelve-month period from her twenty-two years.

The past twelve months.

Last January, shortly after New Year’s, she’d met Ian Jacob Randall, a Navy man, a submariner. She’d fallen in love with him and done something completely irresponsible—she’d gotten pregnant. Then she’d complicated the whole situation by marrying him.

That was mistake number three and from there, her errors in judgment had escalated. She hadn’t been stupid so much as naïve and in love and—worst of all—romantic. The Navy, and life, had cured her of that fast enough.

Their baby girl had been born premature while Ian was at sea, and it became immediately apparent that she had a defective heart. By the time Ian returned home, Allison Marie had already been laid to rest. It was Cecilia who’d stood alone in the unrelenting rain of the Pacific Northwest while her baby’s tiny casket was lowered into the cold, muddy earth. She’d been forced to make life-and-death decisions without the counsel of family or the comfort of her husband.

Her mother lived on the East Coast and, because of a storm, had been unable to fly into Washington State. Her father was as supportive as he knew how to be—which was damn little. His idea of “being there for her” consisted of giving Cecilia a sympathy card and writing a few lines about how sorry he was for her loss. Cecilia had spent countless days and nights by their daughter’s empty crib, alternately weeping and in shock. Other Navy wives had tried to console her, but Cecilia wasn’t comfortable with strangers. She’d rejected their help and their friendship. And because she’d been in Cedar Cove for such a short time, she hadn’t made any close friends in the community, either. As a result, she’d borne her grief alone.

When Ian did return, he’d blamed Navy procedures for his delay. He’d tried to explain, but by then Cecilia was tired of it all. Only one reality had any meaning: her daughter was dead. Her husband didn’t know and couldn’t possibly understand what she’d endured in his absence. Since he was on a nuclear submarine, all transmissions during his tour of duty were limited to fifty-word “family grams.” Nothing could have been done, anyway; the submarine was below the polar ice cap at the time. She did write to tell him about Allison’s birth and then her death. She’d written out her grief in these brief messages, not caring that they’d be closely scrutinized by Navy personnel. But Ian’s commanding officer had seen fit to postpone relaying the information until the completion of the ten-week tour. I didn’t know, Ian had repeatedly insisted. Surely she couldn’t hold him responsible. But she did. Unfair though it might be, Cecilia couldn’t forgive him.

Now all she wanted was out. Out of her marriage, out of this emotional morass of guilt and regret, just out. The simplest form of escape was to divorce Ian.