Sherryl Woods - Willow Brook Road

Booklist Also by #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods Booklist Title Page Dear Reader 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 Epilogue Extract Copyright Chesapeake Shores Dogwood Hill The Christmas Bouquet A Seaside Christmas The Summer Garden An O’Brien Family Christmas Beach Lane Moonlight Cove Driftwood Cottage A Chesapeake Shores Christmas Harbor Lights Flowers on Main The Inn at Eagle Point The Sweet Magnolias Swan Point Where Azaleas Bloom Catching Fireflies Midnight Promises Honeysuckle Summer Sweet Tea at Sunrise Home in Carolina Welcome to Serenity Feels Like Family A Slice of Heaven Stealing Home The Devaney Brothers The Devaney Brothers: Daniel The Devaney Brothers: Michael and Patrick The Devaney Brothers: Ryan and Sean Ocean Breeze Sea Glass Island Wind Chime Point Sand Castle Bay Rose Cottage Sisters Return to Rose Cottage Home at Rose Cottage Trinity Harbor Along Came Trouble Ask Anyone About That Man For a complete list of all titles by Sherryl Woods, visit www.sherrylwoods.com. Look for #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods’s The Christmas Bouquet available soon in paperback from MIRA Books

Title Page Willow Brook Road Sherryl Woods www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Reader Dear Friends Dear Reader 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 Epilogue Extract Copyright , I usually use this space to give you a little background on the story you’re about to read. This time I hope you’ll indulge me as I thank some folks who’ve made it possible for me to write the many, many books you’ve read through the years. Almost from the very beginning I have worked with the very savvy Denise Marcil, whose dedication as my agent has made her an incredible business partner. She had faith when mine flagged and a calming influence when I was on the edge of some writing cliff. No one could have worked harder or made this long career as much fun. I’ve been blessed with so many fabulous editors through the years as well, women who’ve gently nudged me to create better and better stories. Lucia Macro started my career with Silhouette way back in the ’80s. Joan Golan guided me through literally dozens of books. Now I have the absolute pleasure of working with Margaret O’Neill Marbury for the second time. I’m a better writer because of them and too many others to name (there have been 140-plus books, after all). Once a book is polished to perfection—or as near to that as we ever get—it’s in the hands of the publisher and sales team. I’ve worked with several, but no sales force could be more determined or enthusiastic than the men and women at Mira. Getting these books where you can find them is a tough job, and they’re the very best at it. They have my undying gratitude! There are dozens of others I’d like to thank, including family and friends, but I’ll use this last little bit of space to thank you! Your emails and letters mean the world to me. And I’ve always tried to keep you in mind with every page I write. Bless you for the support and love you’ve shown. All best as always, Sherryl

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Epilogue

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The original Mick O’Brien–designed cottage on Willow Brook Road had been built with weathered gray shingles, white trim and a tiny back porch barely big enough for two rockers side by side. They faced Willow Brook, which fed into the Chesapeake Bay. The backyard sloped gently to the brook, with the graceful branches of a trademark weeping willow touching the lawn at the water’s edge. The peaceful setting was just right for quiet conversation or relaxing with a good book.

In front the cottage featured a small yard with an actual white picket fence and a climbing yellow rosebush that tumbled over it with a profusion of fragrant blooms. Bright red and hot-pink geraniums filled pots on the stoop in a vibrant display of clashing colors. The property oozed picturesque charm.

With three cozy bedrooms and a fireplace in the living room and a surprisingly large eat-in kitchen, it was the perfect Chesapeake Shores vacation getaway or a starter home for a small family, but Carrie Winters had been living there alone and at loose ends for almost six months now. The only personal touch she’d added beyond the mismatched furniture she’d acquired from various family attics was the portrait of the whole O’Brien family taken at the Christmas wedding of her twin, Caitlyn.

These days, sitting in one of those rockers for more than a minute or two made her antsy. After two years in a pressure-cooker public relations job at which she’d excelled, being idle was a new experience, and one she didn’t particularly like. She was too distracted for reading anything deeper than the local weekly newspaper. And though she loved to cook, making fancy meals for one person just left her feeling lonely.

Worst of all, she seemed incapable of motivating herself to get out of this funk she’d been in ever since coming home. Chesapeake Shores might be where she wanted—or even needed —to be as she tried to piece her life back together and reevaluate her priorities, but it had created its own sort of pressure.

While the rest of the O’Brien clan was unmistakably worried about her, her grandfather Mick was bordering on frantic. O’Briens did not waste time or wallow in self-pity, which was exactly what Carrie had been doing ever since the breakup of her last relationship. Timed to coincide with the crash-and-burn demolition of her career in the fashion industry, the combination had sent her fleeing from Paris and straight back to her loving family.

Carrie sighed and took a first sip of the one glass of wine she allowed herself at the end of the day. Wallowing was one thing. Getting tipsy all alone was something else entirely. Even she was wise enough to see that.

An image of Marc Reynolds, the fashion-world icon she’d thought she loved, crept into her head, as it did about a hundred times a day. That was down from about a million when she’d first flown home from Europe after the breakup. If it could even be called that, she thought wryly. Truthfully, she’d finally realized that Marc thought of her more as a convenient bed partner and workhorse whose public relations efforts for his fashion empire had helped to put it on the fast track to international acclaim. Unbeknownst to her, his heart apparently belonged to a she-devil, self-absorbed model who treated him like dirt. Carrie could relate, since Marc had pretty much done the same to her. She was still struggling to understand how her judgment could possibly have been so clouded that she hadn’t seen that sooner. Surely the signs had been there. Had she been so besotted she’d missed them? If so, how could she possibly trust her instincts about a man again?

Not that she was going to let that be an issue anytime soon. She was swearing off the male of the species until she figured out who she was and what she truly wanted. At the rate she was progressing on that front, it could take years.

Enough! she told herself firmly, carrying her almost-full glass inside and stepping over a scattering of toys as she went. She smiled as she picked up a floppy-eared bunny and set it gently in a chair. A stack of children’s picture books sat on a nearby table.

Taking care of her twin sister’s little boy, Jackson McIlroy, was about the only thing that gave her a sense of fulfillment these days. With Caitlyn serving a medical internship at Johns Hopkins, and Caitlyn’s husband, Noah, running an increasingly busy family medicine practice here in town, Carrie had volunteered for day-care duty whenever they needed her. More and more often they’d come to rely on her, which suited her just fine, but seemed to be making everyone else in her driven family a little crazy. Babysitting wasn’t considered a suitable career goal for the granddaughter of the town’s founder.