Lissa Manley - Small-Town Homecoming

A Home to Cherish

Ten years ago, Curt Graham left his hometown in disgrace. Now Curt returns to Moonlight Cove for a fresh start and to reestablish family ties. The pretty owner of the inn where he’s staying is exactly the kind of woman he needs. But Jenna Flaherty is waiting for the perfect man. Curt knows he’ll never be that. When the little boy Jenna babysits needs Curt’s help, he’s surprised to discover he’s a good father figure—and that he harbors a wish to have a home of his own. Now if only he could convince Jenna he’d make her a wonderful husband.

Moonlight Cove:

A beachside town where love and faith blossom.

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” she replied very quickly, in what sounded like a strangled voice.

She was nervous. Obviously so. Interesting. “It’s just a guitar lesson,” Curt said. “Nothing more.”

She nodded. “I know that.”

“So just relax and let me do the teaching.” He settled his arm around her slender shoulders, and the scent of her fresh-smelling shampoo wafted his way, filling his senses with the sweet aroma of Jenna.

He resisted his first urge, which was to lean in and breathe deep.

“Now, I’m going to show you the chord.”

She nodded, just a single upward motion of her head.

“Now strum,” he instructed.

Awkwardly, she ran her fingers across the strings over the sound hole.

“Wow,” she said, strumming again.

“It sounds pretty good!” A moment later, she turned, her mouth curved up into a brilliant smile. About six inches from him. She froze, staring into his eyes, clearly surprised to find him so close.

His heart thundered in his chest and he couldn’t for the life of him look away from those beautiful, emerald-shaded eyes of hers.

LISSA MANLEY

decided she wanted to be a published author at the ripe old age of twelve. After she read her first romance novel as a teenager, she quickly decided romance was her favorite genre, although she still enjoys digging into a good medical thriller now and then.

When her youngest was still in diapers, Lissa needed a break from strollers and runny noses, so she sat down and started crafting a romance and has been writing ever since. Nine years later, in 2001, she sold her first book, fulfilling her childhood dream. She feels blessed to be able to write what she loves, and intends to be writing until her fingers quit working, or she runs out of heartwarming stories to tell. She’s betting the fingers will go first.

Lissa lives in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon, with her wonderful husband, a grown daughter and college-aged son, and two bossy poodles who rule the house and get away with it. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, crafting, bargain hunting, cooking and decorating.

Small-Town Homecoming

Lissa Manley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Judge not that you be judged. For with that judgment you pronounce, you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get.

—Matthew 7:1–2

This book is dedicated to Shana Asaro. Thank you for all of your hard work on my books. I’ll miss you.

Contents

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

Dear Reader,

Extract

Chapter One

Curt Graham pulled Old Green up to the curb in front of the Sweetheart Inn, cut the engine and climbed out of the pickup. He breathed deep, enjoying the familiar salty tang in the ocean air. Given he’d left Moonlight Cove in disgrace ten years ago, it was hard to believe he was back where he’d grown up. Hopefully for good, although he had no illusions about the difficult road he’d chosen by returning.

He paused for a moment and looked up at the puffy clouds scudding across the late-afternoon sky.

Please, Lord, help me to continue in my recovery by making good choices, and give me the strength to face the many mistakes I made in the past.

He stepped forward and opened the iron gate guarding the front yard, casting his gaze over the white Victorian-style home, noting that the place was in need of a new coat of paint and fresh gingerbread window trim. But the house was beautiful, and if he remembered correctly, had been run by an old couple since long before he’d been born.

He closed the gate and headed up the concrete pathway that led to the front steps of the Sweetheart, his gaze lingering on the bright red roses still blooming in the front yard. Summer typically came late to the Washington Coast, if at all, really, and many flowers were still in bloom, even in mid-September.

As he went up the wooden stairs, he saw that a wide front porch wrapped around the front of the house and a gliding rocker sat at an angle in one corner, flanked by two padded outdoor chairs. Red flowers in pots sat clustered by the painted railing. Looked like a good place to relax, although with the temperatures dropping as summer gave way to fall, hanging out on the porch in the evening would be mighty chilly very soon.

Just as Curt hit the top of the stairs, the wide wooden front door flew open and a dark-haired boy of about six, maybe seven, blasted out, full speed ahead. Luckily he saw Curt and deftly dodged him before he trucked down the stairs without missing a step.

A feminine voice rang out from the house. “Sam Waters, come back here this instant!”

Giggling, the boy kept going when he reached the bottom of the stairs and ran around the front corner of the house.

Curt paused by the porch railing and debated going after the kid, but before he could get in gear to do so, the front door banged open again and a pretty young woman with curly red hair came barreling out.

She put on the brakes when she saw Curt, windmilling her arms, and barely managing to stop before she ran fully into him.

“Oh. Sorry. Um...” She cast her gaze around, then looked at him with flashing green eyes. “Did you see where he went?”

“Around the corner,” Curt said, pointing in the direction the kid had gone.

“Okay, thanks,” she said, bestowing him a crooked smile. “I’ll be right back.”

He watched her go, admiring her slender curves as she quickly descended the stairs and took off in the direction Sam had gone.

“Sam, don’t do this again,” she called, her voice ringing with frustration. “Remember we talked about this after yesterday’s incident? You promised you wouldn’t misbehave today.”

Curt stood by the railing, listening, then slowly went down the stairs, curious about what was going on with the boy and the attractive young woman.

Just as he reached the grass, she screamed, “Don’t you dare!”

That sounded serious. His protective instincts—and curiosity—surging, Curt took off, rounded the corner of the house and ran into the backyard.

His gaze zeroed in on them, facing off in the far back corner. Sam held the end of a nozzled garden hose in one hand and was pointing the “weapon” toward the young woman, who had one hand out as she inched closer to Sam in a half crouch.