When a simple favor turns into an unexpected entanglement.
Rowan Kelly has one goal for the next two weeks: throw the most beautiful wedding for her cousin. So what if the inn she inherited isn’t quite ready or staffed? She’s resourceful and scrappy enough to make it happen all by herself. She doesn’t need some nosy, charming stranger with smiles that both irritate her and make her woman’s bits tingle to swoop in to save the day.
World-renowned hotelier Chris Sullens only planned on spending twenty-four hours in Vinalhaven. So why the hell did he sacrifice his well earned vacation and offer to help the fiery gorgeous innkeeper plan a wedding instead? He tries to keep things professional, but his self-control has its limits, especially when he suddenly has to play the role of the stubborn woman’s doting fiance.
As strange occurrences threaten the wedding, the inn’s future, and Rowan’s safety, can they work together to keep things from blowing up in their faces? Or will their unbridled passion entangle them into something more than they bargained for?
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Unexpected Entanglement (A small town/island fake engagement romance)
Chris sat on one of the few seats in the small coffee shop he’d seen earlier. He’d walked the entire rows of businesses on Vinalhaven’s little down town, gone into every store, checked the menu of every food establishment.
He sipped his coffee and nodded his approval. He loved his cup of joe dark with a full body, and the girl behincd the counter served him a potent brew.
Chris checked his emails on his phone. He was supposedly on vacation, but he always had difficulty disconnecting. After working to establish three resorts in five years, he could use the rest. Maybe he’d stay a day or two longer to relax. He’s got a feeling there was more to Vinalhaven than what he’d seen.
He looked up from his phone when the door to the coffee shop opened. Two women walked in having a discussion. The contrast between the two ladies caught his interest.
The taller one was dressed in a white shirt tucked into a pair of loose blue jeans that looked more comfortable than fashionable. Her braided black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes indicated she was of Asian descent. She listened to the more petite one in cutoff jean shorts and a rust-colored T-shirt that flaunted her curves, with her hair wound and tucked under a trucker’s hat. The cap’s bill shadowed her eyes.
He overheard the tall one say, “I have a couple of new recruits I’ve been training. They’re new to the island—starting over, you can say.”
“Are they trustworthy?” Petite asked with a slight frown.
Chris’ ears perked at the rich alto timbre coming out of Petite. Not what he expected at all.
“They’ve been vetted.”
“All right.” Petite shrugged. “I’ll see you at Bright Head at nine, then?”
“I’ll be there.” The other lady smiled. “Can I buy you coffee before you go?”
“Thanks, maybe another time. I have to pick up the chefs at the ferry and then head back.” Petite winked and flashed a toothy grin. “Until tomorrow.”
Did the sexy-voiced-petite say Bright Head?
Before Chris could gather his cup and stand, the petite woman had already disappeared out the door. He rushed out and spotted her walking around the red truck he’d seen earlier.
“Excuse me, miss,” Chris called out as he approached.
The woman stopped, turned her head toward his direction, then looked up at his face as he smiled at her. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you work at the Bright Head Farm & Inn at Long Cove?” Chris asked.”
Her gaze behind her sunglasses went slowly to the truck’s door as if saying duh. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m heading up there to see the owners.” Chris turned up the wattage in his smile to look as harmless as possible. “I was wondering if you could give me—”
Her eyes narrowed as she cut him off, “Do you have an appointment? I wasn’t informed to pick up anyone besides our chefs from the ferry.”
“I want to surprise them,” Chris casually answered. He bluffed his way through conversations with or about people he should’ve “known” all the time.
“How are they, anyhow? Rowan and Kieran?” Dropping first names always helped gain trust.
She finally smiled. “Oh, you’re a friend of the Kellys?”
“Uh…” Chris didn’t want to lie outright, so he just shrugged while maintaining an amiable expression.
“I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” she asked.
“Chris.”
“I tell you what, Chris,” she said as she retreated. “I won’t spoil your surprise, but unfortunately, I can’t give you a ride. Not enough room in the cab, you see. Two people are waiting for me at the ferry terminal with their luggage. You understand?”
“I wasn’t—”
“A shuttle from the hotel down the street runs past us.” She didn’t listen to his answer as she walked to the driver’s side door. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to drop you off.”
“Don’t you have a shuttle for your guests?” Chris questioned, a little miffed by her brusque dismissal. But he might as well try to get some information.
“Currently, I’m all there is,” she flashed him a cheeky grin. “I’m sorry, I can’t accommodate you unless you’d be willing to ride on the…”
She gestured to the bed of her truck, which was already filled with cans of paint and what looked like maintenance supplies.
“It won’t be comfortable, though.” She added, “Can I suggest a bicycle? It’s a great day for it.”
“I have a bike,” Chris answered. “But—”
“Perfect! I’m sorry, but I have to go.” She opened her door. “Maybe I’ll see you up there later?”
She hopped behind the steering wheel and started the truck.
“Count on it.” Chris stepped onto the curb by the passenger door and watched her check her side mirror.
The leggy Asian woman from earlier suddenly came running to her friend in the truck. “I forgot to tell you I’ll have to print out a new contract. I’ll bring it with me in the morning.
“Great,” Petite replied.
“All right. See you tomorrow, Rowan.” Legs waved as she walked away.
Rowan.
Chris’ rounded eyes flew to Petite’s face. She grinned and pulled out of the parking spot, leaving him standing at the curb like a deer caught in a headlights.
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C. R. Alam loves to write heartfelt and steamy love stories with strong yet vulnerable characters readers would root for. There hasn’t been a main character she’s written about whom she didn’t fall in love with despite their shortcomings. She’ll laugh with her characters, cry along with them, then laugh again in the end. When she’s not reading or writing, you’ll most likely find her in the kitchen, cooking, baking, or eating while wearing her trusted Birks, sweatpants, and “I’m emotionally attached to fictional characters” T-shirt. After a whirlwind decade of living abroad, C. R. now lives in Durham, NC, with her husband, daughter, and cat.
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