Vicki Essex - Matinees With Miriam

Having his heart stolen wasn’t part of the plan!

Shane Patel has a way with people—a skill that’s made him a success in the condo development business. But his charms are proving useless on Miriam Bateman. The Crown Theater is the key to his company’s latest project. It also happens to be Miriam’s home and her grandfather’s legacy. She’s made it clear that it’s not for sale.

Despite the frustration, Shane’s enjoying trying to win Miriam over. And the best part of his day becomes watching old movies with her. When Miriam’s plans to reopen the theater threaten his project, though, Shane has a tough decision to make: his career or Miriam.

“What are we doing, Shane?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“I mean, what are we doing together? I want to believe you’re just trying to seduce me so I’ll sell the Crown. But...” She hesitated, realizing that admitting the truth would be giving up something of value. “I’m not sure I actually believe it.”

He met her gaze, frowning. “It’s not like that, I mean, I’m ashamed to admit it, but at first I thought that was what I’d do.” He scrubbed his jaw. Miriam felt a sting to her pride, but didn’t interrupt him. “But I really do like you. Everything I’ve done up to this point... I wanted to get close to you to understand why you’d hang on to a decrepit old building. I think I’m starting to get it now. There’s...for lack of a better word...magic here. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s the same way I feel about this town. I can’t fault you for wanting to hold on to that.”

She smiled a little sadly. Just because he understood didn’t mean she’d swayed him to her thinking. “So where does that leave us?”

Dear Reader,

Have you ever slept over in a museum or spent the night in an aquarium? I’ve always wanted to stay someplace that could be my personal playground, alone after all the doors are shut and the public is gone. Knowing all the little secrets of a special place somehow adds to the magic, especially at night.

Unfortunately, these days I value sleep too much to go on such an adventure. As of the writing of this letter, my baby girl is just over six months old. It’s been quite an adventure. Writing Matinees with Miriam was one part wish fulfillment, one part Castaway in an old movie theater. How would you live in an historic abandoned building like the Crown? What would you do for fun? How would you shower?

Committing to that lifestyle takes a special kind of person. Miriam Bateman became my pragmatic dreamer, practical in every aspect of her life except for the fact that she lives in her own fantasyland. She’s fearless when it comes to protecting the things that matter to her, but she’s also scared of the world that has only ever hurt and disappointed her. Exploring a character who was so contradictory in her nature was a lot of fun and a lot of hard work.

My little town of Everville is seeing lots of changes, which is what life is all about. I owe this story to my husband, who is a city-planning nerd and helped me understand a lot about why municipal policy and bylaws are so important. So much of daily life is taken for granted until you threaten the status quo—something else I’m learning as a new mother.

Enjoy your latest visit to Everville, “The Town that Endures!”

Vicki

Matinees with Miriam

Vicki Essex

www.millsandboon.co.uk

VICKI ESSEX loves movies, but requires regular “movie forcenings” to get through the canon of quintessential nineties films and blockbusters, Hollywood golden-age classics and best picture nominees. She doesn’t live in a theater, but eats popcorn as though she does. She lives in Toronto, Canada, with a man, a baby, a cat and The King of Centipedes as a tenant.

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Thanks to my editor, Karen Reid, and the rest of the Harlequin Superromance team for being awesome guides in my romance writing journey.

Thanks to my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan of Handspun Literary, for all her support.

To my mom and dad, my sisters, my in-laws and the whole village of relatives and friends who came out to make my journey into motherhood less terrifying and more joyful: thank you.

To my little Mara: “When you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart/And I thought I was so smart.”

And to my husband, John, without whom none of this would be possible: there aren’t enough words to say thank you for your love and staunch support. Best of fathers, best of husbands.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SHANE WAS PRETTY sure the Keep Out sign was clear. Then again, teenagers carrying six-packs of beer and what looked like a bolt cutter weren’t the kind of people who obeyed signs.

The three boys clipped the edges of the chain-link fence and pulled up the corner. With surreptitious looks around, they ducked beneath it, then hurried around the back of the building. Shane clenched his jaw. After the three-hour drive from Brooklyn, he’d wanted to go straight to the bed-and-breakfast, but he hadn’t been able to resist driving by the properties before calling it a night. Good thing, he thought as he got out of his car. While the block of buildings would eventually be knocked down, he still didn’t like trespassers on his property.

Well, it wasn’t all his yet. But it would be soon.

As he slipped through the gap in the fence, his blazer caught on a wire and tore. Great. It occurred to him that he should’ve called the police instead of going after the punks, but he could take care of himself.

The abandoned buildings on either side of the old Crown Theater were boarded up tight, but the rear fire door of the theater was ajar. He hesitated. The Keep Out sign aside, the owner had made it clear she wouldn’t welcome his presence.

But those punks were in there. It was his civic duty to stop them.

He slipped into the darkened building, quietly pulling the door shut behind him. The sound of breaking glass followed by a snide laugh reached his ears. He’d never understood bored teens and their need to get into trouble, especially in picturesque Everville. This town was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting—watering holes, beaches, ice-cream parlors and a whole slew of awesome hangouts. And yet, they were in this building, messing around. His blood pumped hard. He didn’t get mad easily, but he took the intrusion personally.