Jillian Hart: Every Kind of Heaven & Everyday Blessings: Every Kind of Heaven / Everyday Blessings

Two fan-favorite McKaslin Clan novels in one by beloved author Jillian Hart

Every Kind of Heaven

Ava McKaslin has a strict to-do list for her life: making sweets and taking care of her family. Love is too unreliable for this busy bakery owner. Until she hires Brice Donovan as her contractor. Brice has adored Ava from afar. Now that she needs his help, Brice wants to show her how joyful life can be when there is love.

Everyday Blessings

When Aubrey McKaslin visits reclusive photographer William Corey, she finds a man who’s given up on life. He claims he’s happy alone in his mountain retreat, but Aubrey doesn’t believe it for a minute. She sees a man who’s looking for companionship. Spending time together awakens deeper feelings in them both, but could William trust in their newfound love to see a future together?

Praise for Jillian Hart and her novels

“Jillian Hart’s Every Kind of Heaven is a warm, tender story in the McKaslin Clan miniseries.”

— RT Book Reviews

“Jillian Hart’s compassionate story will most certainly please readers.”

— RT Book Reviews on Everyday Blessings

“It’s a pleasure to read this achingly tender story.”

— RT Book Reviews on Her Wedding Wish

“A heartwarming story with likable characters.”

— RT Book Reviews on His Country Girl

“Jillian Hart conveys heart-tugging emotional struggles.”

— RT Book Reviews on Sweet Blessings

Every Kind of Heaven & Everyday Blessings

Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

EVERY KIND OF HEAVEN Every Kind of Heaven Jillian Hart

EVERYDAY BLESSINGS Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Jillian Hart

I consider that our present sufferings

are not worth comparing with the glory

that will be revealed in us.

— Romans 8:18

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

Epilogue

Baker Ava McKaslin stopped humming as she stepped back from the worktable to inspect the wedding cake. Her footsteps echoed in the industrial kitchen, nearly empty except for a few basics—the sink, countertops and the few pieces of equipment she’d managed to buy off the previous tenant. They’d considered it too cumbersome and expensive to move the industrial oven and fridge, which was just her luck.

She might not have the bakery of her dreams yet , God willing, but it was a start. Besides, her cake was spectacular, if she did say so herself.

But what was with all the silence? She cut a look to the long stretch of metal counter behind her. The CD had come to an end. She’d probably forgotten to hit Repeat again. Okay, she forgot most things most of the time. Since her hands were all frosting coated, she hit the play button with her elbow. The first beats of percussion got her right back into the creative mode. Although some people found it hard to think with bass blasting from her portable boom box, she thought it helped her brain cells to fire…or synapse…or do whatever brain cells did.

As the Christian music pulsed with an upbeat rhythm, she went back to work on the top tier. The delicate scrollwork took patience, not to mention stamina. Her wrist and arms were killing her, since she’d been at this for six hours straight. Ah, the price of being a baker. She ignored the burn in her exhausted muscles. Pain, that didn’t matter. What mattered was not failing.

Before she’d bought this place, she’d been unofficially in business by using her oldest sister Katherine’s snazzy kitchen off and on for a few months. This was her very first wedding cake in her own bakery. How great was that? And it was actually going well—a total shocker. So far there were no disasters. No kitchen fires. No last-minute cancellation of the wedding. It was almost as if this business venture of hers was meant to be.

Maybe she hadn’t made a disastrous mistake by jumping into this entrepreneurial thing with both feet. And, best of all, the remodeling contractor would start work soon transforming this drab commercial space into a cheerful bakery shop in less than a couple of weeks. That was another reason why she was in such a great mood.

“Hello?” a man’s voice—a stranger’s voice—yelled over the booming music.

She screamed. The spatula slipped from her grip. What was a man doing in her kitchen? A man she’d never seen before. Her brain scrambled and her body refused to move. She could only gape at him in wide-eyed horror.

Oh, no. What if he was the backdoor burglar? The thief that had been breaking into the back doors of restaurants and assaulting and stealing? What if this dude was him?

It would be smart to call 9-1-1, but she had no idea where her cell was. There was no business phone installed yet. Even if she did have her cell or a working landline, it wouldn’t matter since she was paralyzed in place.

“Uh…uh…” That was the best speech she could manage? Get it together, Ava. You’re about to be robbed . “I’ve seen your face, so I can identify you in a lineup.”

The burglar stared at her. Wow, he was really handsome. And he looked startled. His strong, chiseled jaw was clenched tight in, perhaps, fury and his striking dark eyes glittered with viciousness…or maybe that was humor. The left corner of his mouth quirked up as if he were holding back a grin.

Great, she had to get an easily amused thief.

“I’ve got two bucks in my purse. That’s it, buddy. There’s not another cent on the premises. You’ve picked the wrong place to rob. So t-t-turn around r-right now and go away. Go on. Shoo.”

There, that ought to scare him off or confuse him. She really didn’t care which. Adrenaline—or maybe it was terror—started to spill like ice into her veins.

“Go ahead, call the cops.” He called her bluff, crossing his arms over his wide chest. He had the audacity to lean one big shoulder against the door frame, as if he had all the time in the world. He looked more like a movie star than a criminal. “Explain to the police how you left the front door unlocked.”

“No, I—” Wait, she did forget to lock stuff. And if he’d come in the front door, then he wasn’t the backdoor thief. Maybe. Unless he’d changed his M.O. and was that very likely? She didn’t think so. “I did leave the door unlocked, didn’t I?”