One summer. Three separate love stories. And summer doesn’t last forever.
Montana Beach Book 1
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by D. Allen
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Genre: Sweet Contemporary Romance
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Jessie moved back to picturesque Montana Beach after a heartbreaking split with her ex. She’s since thrown herself into her grandparent’s inn, which has been struggling financially thanks to the town having seen better days. With few options available, Jessie considers accepting a developer’s offer to buy Montana Manor, seeing it as a way to save her family’s legacy, until she learns that he wants to tear it down.
Meanwhile, Mason’s tired of working at his father’s advertising firm in New York City, although his father wants him to become his replacement. Unsure if that’s the course he wants his life to take, Mason escapes to Montana Beach and the only inn in town to consider the proposal. But after he meets Jessie, he seems to gain only another reason not to take up his father’s offer.
When Mason offers to help Jessie launch a campaign to save Montana Manor, the two quickly find themselves relying more and more on each other. But summer doesn’t last forever, and Mason’s stay is coming to an end.
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The best part of waking up at five in the morning is getting out on the beach for my run before the other joggers, walkers, or scavengers get out here and get in my way. Often times I don’t even play music, preferring instead to listen to the waves crash along the shore. It helps me relax and prepare for the day ahead of me. The only thing on my mind is the sand under my feet and my breathing as I run my usual two-mile stretch.
It’s not an easy run, that’s for sure. The traction I get in the sand is quite different from what I used to get on the treadmill when I lived in the city. But the extra exertion is what I need to make this precious time count. There aren’t any gyms in Montana Beach. There isn’t much of anything, really.
When I reach the end of the beach where it starts to get marshy, I see that the sun is sitting just on the horizon over the Atlantic Ocean. As I turn around to head back to Montana Manor, my long shadow stretches inland, interrupted only when I pass under the pier.
Grandma Ethel is sitting on the back patio with a cup of coffee watching the sunrise as I come up. I’m sweaty but energized.
“Enjoy your run, Jessie Girl?” she asks.
I nod. “The sunrise is really beautiful today.”
She smiles. “It always is.”
Knowing that I’m short on time, I tell Grandma, “I’ll be back down soon to help you with breakfast. Just going to run up and take a shower real quick.”
“Take your time, dear. I’m content right here.”
Racing up the steps to the attic apartment I share with her, I head straight for the bathroom and hop in the shower.
This is the same routine I do every day. Up with the sun, run on the beach, quick shower, and then start breakfast for the guests. It’s the same routine I’ve had for most of my life. My grandparents built Montana Manor when they first got married and have been running the small inn ever since.
It’s the only place for overnight accommodations in town since the Montana Motel closed down several years ago. Well, it’s the only one if you don’t count the many rental houses that sit throughout the small village now that a lot of the permanent residents have moved away.
Like Montana Beach, the Manor isn’t perfect. It could use a new roof, updated fixtures, and I’m sure the wiring isn’t up to code. But it’s home.
Braiding my wet hair, I make my way back down to the kitchen where Grandma is already frying up some eggs. I grab a pan, throw some bacon on it, and fire up the burner next to her.
“How many do we have this morning?” I ask.
“Only the Harmons. Janet said they’re early-risers, so I expect them to come down anytime now.”
“How long are they staying?”
“Until tomorrow night, although they still have to pay the rest of their bill. They mentioned something about paying today, but I told them they can wait until they check out, too.”
“Okay.” I wish Grandma wouldn’t tell people that. They’re our only guests and it’s the middle of June, which should be the start of our busy season, but we haven’t seen an uptick in guests yet. When I was a little girl the Manor used to be filled with guests from May into October. Now we’re lucky if we can fill up in July.
Grandma reaches around me to grab two plates and flips the eggs onto each of them with a spatula. “Now, if they do pay today, I want you to run to the bank to deposit some of it. The rest will have to go toward groceries.”
“Did we get another reservation?” I toss the bacon onto a plate and dab away as much of the grease as I can with a paper towel.
“One couple, yes. They’re arriving tomorrow. I think they may be honeymooners.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
Grandma picks the bacon from the paper towel and arranges it on the plate while I pop some bread in the toaster.
“Their reservation came through as the Newmans, but her credit card was under a different last name.”
“Then they probably are.”
There isn’t a lot to do in Montana Beach, but we still get a lot of honeymooners. I guess the quiet beach town is a lure to many newlyweds. Still, most of the guests we used to get are now more interested in the many activities up on North Beach, which is highly-commercialized nowadays.
The toaster pops and we hear footsteps on the stairs.
“I’ll get them started with drinks,” Grandma tells me. She pulls a pitcher and a Tupperware of fruit out of the fridge and sets it on a tray with two glasses. “Can you cut this up, please?”
“I’m on it.”
“Thank you, dear.”
When she disappears into the dining room to greet them, I pop open the Tupperware and start cutting the fresh pineapple and cantaloupe into cubes.
“They want to eat out on the patio,” Grandma tells me when she comes back in. She sets the plates on the now-empty tray.
“I can’t blame them.”
“Neither can I. Now hurry up with that fruit, dear, their food is getting cold.”
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Summer Job
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Montana Beach Book 2
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When Robyn was promoted to manager of the Montana Beach Pier amusement park, she helped save it from near extinction. But her employees are still having a hard time adjusting to her new leadership role. With her father gone and only a few friends in Montana Beach, the stress at work carries over to the rest of her life. That is, until her newest employee steps through the door.
Jaden’s just looking for a summer job until he can find something more stable in the fall. Montana Beach might be a slower pace than his hometown, but his new boss and the romance that sparks between them makes the sleepy little town exciting.
When a coworker discovers their relationship, he threatens to reveal their secret, which could put their jobs and the future of the Pier at risk.
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My alarm wakes me at six in the morning. It’s the first day of work this season at the Montana Beach Pier amusement park. Or just the Pier, as everyone calls it. I don’t have to be at work for another five hours, but I want to squeeze in some painting time before the day gets started.
With my eyes slits from the cruel bathroom light, I brush my teeth before hopping in the shower, readjusting to my familiar routine from last summer.
I wish I could say I’m excited about starting the season again. I mean, I guess I am, but that’s more to see the families stroll through the gates again. The kids are always so excited and they usually don’t know which ride to try first. And then, by the afternoon, they’re so hyped up on sugar and their parents are so drained from the sun that it makes for hilarious entertainment, even though I’m technically working.
But the door won’t open to guests for another week. In the meantime, my employees and I have to get everything up to snuff for opening day. Which means they’ll be cleaning up the rides after the maintenance guys check to make sure they’re running okay and I’ll be stuck in the office doing paperwork and getting our marketing materials together.
I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around myself, and walk into the second bedroom I use as part walk-in closet, part art studio. I don’t have too many clothes, but I do have more than the tiny closet in my bedroom would allow. Still, there’s enough space for my art supplies too. And all the paintings that are waiting to be sold. The perks of living alone, I guess. Anyway, I’m going to miss spending all day to paint the landscapes from around town, but I’ll squeeze in time to keep painting when I can.
As I pick out clothes to wear, I try to remember everything I have to do when I go in today. I made a couple trips to the Pier office last week to start getting some paperwork started. I also hired two new people: a cleaner and a concession person, bringing our total number of employees up to fifteen. Including me. Not a lot, but it works.
Actually, I have another interview today. If he seems sane enough, I think I’ll make him a ride operator. Out of the two other new employees, one is barely old enough to work, meaning I don’t feel comfortable putting him in charge of a ride for kids under ten, and the other doesn’t seem to even want a job, so I stuck her as a cleaner.
It seems mean, but that position is the easiest to make up for if we lose someone midseason. The guy I’m interviewing today might even spend half his shifts cleaning. We don’t have the budget to hire too many designated cleaners, so everyone has to chip in.
Once I’m showered and dressed, I return to the spare bedroom and really look at my work in progress. It’s starting to come together. I squeeze out some paint, dab in a brush, and get to work.
Usually I like to paint in the midst of my inspiration. Plein air, as it’s called in the art world. It helps me really get in touch with my surroundings, but since I don’t have a lot of time now that I’m working, I have to make do with a photo hanging on the wall above the canvas.
I work for a couple hours, filling out the canvas with more colors, bringing to life the sunrise scene that fills me with so many happy memories. Before I know it, it’s just after ten and I rush to clean up my paints in the bathroom sink that’s stained with colors from previous paintings; a work in progress itself.
Once I’m all cleaned up, I grab my bag and my keys and walk down to Atlantic Street, where there’s a tiny little coffee shop on the corner with First Street.
“You’re here early,” Nancy says from behind the counter. “Your usual?”
“Yes, please,” I respond. “It’s my first day back at the Pier.”
“Is it that time of year already?” She fills a to-go cup with a dark roast blend.
“Sure is. Creeps up faster each year.”
“And passes by just as quickly!” She chuckles, passing me my order. “Here you go, dear.”
I take the cup from her and hand her my card. “Maybe next year we’ll be able to expand the season a bit, but I still need to whip my employees into shape. I’ve got a few new ones this year.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to, honey. I’ll have to bring my granddaughters down if I have time this year.”
“Oh yeah! That would be fun!” I take my card back and slip it in my wallet. Slinging my bag back on my shoulder, I head to the door. “Thanks, Nancy. Have a good day!”
“You too, dear!”
My assistant manager, Peggy, is already in the office when I get to work. She’s never early, so I must be a few minutes late. She has her feet up on the desk and is filing her nails while she snaps her gum.
“Sorry I’m late,” I mutter. She probably doesn’t care.
“Oh, you actually came back this year.”
“I just knew it would make your day.” I boot up the computer and take a sip of my coffee.
“I see you still haven’t found a real job,” she says.
“And neither have you,” I say as polite as I can.
This is our relationship each summer. Verbally jabbing each other under the veil of a joke. I think she might want me to quit, but it’s not like the owners would make her manager. They live up in North Beach and own several attractions up there. This tiny little pier all the way down in Montana Beach isn’t on their radar too much, but they’re still funding our operations, so that’s good. I can imagine the attractions up north are making a lot more money than we are, though.
If they’re forced to hire a new manager for the Pier, it might be easier for them to just close it. That’s where it was heading before I started. I trimmed the budget, beefed up policies, and started advertising to the right audience. In the three years that I’ve had the position, the annual number of visitors has gone up by thirty percent.
Of course, in the process of turning this place around, I had to lay a few people off, argue with the remaining employees about my new policies, and took on the reputation of bitch. Collateral damage for saving a small town business.
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Summer Nights
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Montana Beach Book 3
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On the surface Adrian has it all: he’s the owner of the Nine—the only source of nightlife in Montana Beach—and he has his boyfriend Malcolm. The only problem is: Malcolm’s married. Although he promises to leave his wife, Adrian still wonders if he’ll always be “the other lover,” and whether that’s enough for him.
Tyler has watched his best friend pursue his relationship with a married man knowing that it won’t end well. He knows that he could treat Adrian better, but he’s never expressed his feelings to anyone, let alone Adrian.
After Adrian and Tyler share a special evening together, Tyler sees a future for them, but Adrian is still loyal to Malcolm.
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It’s nearly four in the morning, but the digital clock on the nightstand has my full attention. I watch as the blinking light counts each passing second, wondering how long I’ll get to lay here with Malcolm before he gets the phone call.
I pray that it doesn’t come. Every night I pray, but his phone inevitably rings. Even though I’m still wrapped in his arms, I can’t help but think about him leaving.
I suck in a shuddering breath and close my eyes. Maybe tonight my prayers will be answered and we’ll wake up in the morning together. This is the latest he’s stayed in a while. Usually he’s out the door shortly after we finish, which makes it nearly impossible to get to sleep.
That’s the worst part about loving him. The loneliness that follows his exit. He always tries to move quietly, telling me to go back to sleep when I get up to walk him out, but it’s no use. I’m always left feeling empty. Alone. Sad.
I focus on his steady breaths, letting it soothe me so I can fall asleep, but the sudden burst of his ringtone makes me jump. Malcolm stirs. He pulls away from me and reaches for his phone on the opposite nightstand.
I know the drill. Stay silent and still. He’s never come right out and told me to, but it’s kind of obvious that he wants privacy since he leaves the room every time it’s a phone call.
“Hello?” He says once he’s at the door.
I close my eyes and pretend that the call never came. That he’s still lying beside me. But his voice carries from the living room and I know this is really happening.
“I was tired, so I pulled over to take a nap.”
I stare at the clock again, watching more seconds pass by.
“I’m about forty minutes out,” he says.
It’s quiet. My heart races in fear that I was heard somehow.
“No, just tired,” he finally says. “Like I just said. Go back to sleep. I’ll be home soon.”
I close my eyes and try to think of something else to ease the heartache. I know what’s coming.
“Love you, too.”
It’s like a physical pain in my chest.
Malcolm comes back in when he’s off the phone and shakes me gently. “Hey, I have to get going.”
“Yeah, I heard,” I mutter. I keep my eyes on the clock. 3:52. That has to be a record.
“I’m sorry, babe, but I have to keep up appearances.” He rubs my arm. “At least for a little while longer.”
“I know.”
He pauses, then asks, “Remember what I promised you?”
I don’t say anything. It almost seems like it’ll never happen at this point.
“Hey.” He nudges me until I roll over to look up at him. “Someday soon it’ll just be me and you. You’re the one I want to be with. I love you.”
Hearing him say it helps make me feel a little better. “I love you, too.”
He kisses my forehead and then disappears into the bathroom.
Despite my best efforts, I retreat to my negative thoughts. I love him and he says he loves me, but a part of me also thinks that if he truly loved me that this would be an easy choice for him.
I’m always wrestling with myself, wondering if I’m a bad person or just a man in love. I’m not the one deciding to betray a commitment. I’ve made my commitment. To him.
Malcolm’s the one who’s married.
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