I could jump up and down and tell you how excited I am (because I am) and how great this book is (because I think it is), but showing is always better than telling, right? So how about you just read the first chapter? Or…the first chapter and half of the second chapter…
Love at Honeybrook Inn, Book One
Annette K. Larsen
1
LIAM
My dad met me at the door with a back-pounding hug that made me smile like usual. Dad had always been my number one fan and supporter. “I’ve missed you, my guy,” he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he pulled back to look at me.
“You saw me last week, Dad. Sorry, but that’s not enough time to miss me.”
“Sure it is. Now come in.” He drew me inside and closed the door behind me, reaching for my jacket as I took it off. “Now, just a heads-up, but Ozzy and Karina might need a little extra care tonight.”
My brows pulled together. “Why’s that?”
“Tony died.”
My eyes went wide. Tony was Ozzy’s father and Karina’s ex-husband. “Are they…sad about it?” I couldn’t imagine so. Once they’d gotten away from Tony, they hadn’t looked back. Dad and Karina had met just six months later, and it’d taken a good long time before Karina trusted him enough to let us into their lives.
Dad shrugged. “Sad probably isn’t the right word, but they’ll have to work through it. There’s always fallout from death.”
“All right. No dead-dad jokes, then?”
He snorted a laugh, smothered it, and then shushed me with a glare. As former military who was still in love with a good workout, Dad was broad and strong, but humor had always been our love language.
“Sorry,” I muttered and proceeded deeper into the house, toward the kitchen and the sound of voices.
“Ozzy!” I called out, my hands around my mouth like I was cheering him on at a game.
“Liam,” he called back. “Get over here and chop these leeks. Mom says I’m not doing it right.”
Karina swatted at him with a towel. “I said nothing of the sort. Do not foist your chores off on your brother,” she warned, pointing a finger at him like he was still a teenager instead of a twenty-four-year-old.
“Yeah, Oz. Stop shirking your duties.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder as I passed, then bent to give Karina a quick hug. I adored her, but having been nearly eighteen when I first met her, I could never really think of her as my mom or even my stepmom, even if she did like to call Oz and me brothers. She was just Karina.
“Here,” she said, shoving a cutting board at me. “You can cut the bell peppers.”
“Will do.” It was a familiar routine. When Karina and my dad had started dating, Karina and Oz would come over at least once a week. At first she’d insisted on cooking for everyone else, but my dad didn’t put up with that for long—said he needed a partner, not a cook, and that sort of an attitude was an adjustment for Karina. And it took Ozzy even longer to do anything other than sit sullenly on the couch and then shovel his food down when it was put in front of him. But once he did crack open, boy, he cracked all the way open. I was barely more than a year older than him, but he was so desperate for an older brother that he’d latched on and never let go. Not that I was bothered by it. Being the youngest kid and the only boy can be lonely business. After my mom died, my dad had thrown himself into raising me and my two older sisters. He’d always been there for me, but when they’d started dating during my senior year of high school, having Ozzy and Karina cheering for me in the stands alongside my Dad had filled a hole inside me.
Our conversation was light and easy while we made dinner, and it wasn’t until we had nearly finished eating that Ozzy finally sighed heavily and turned to me. “I need a favor, man.”
“Name it.” I stuffed another bite into my mouth.
“Tony finally up and died.”
I stopped chewing, shifting my eyes over to Karina to see how she would react to his words. She just kept her eyes on her plate, but didn’t seem upset. “All right.” I turned my attention back to Ozzy.
“We only found out because he was kind enough to leave me the house, which you might think is a nice gesture, but it’s really just forcing me to deal with his crap.”
I swallowed and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s always nice to get an inheritance.”
“Ha! Some inheritance. Apparently he was a total hoarder over the last several years, so I can’t just put the thing on the market. I have to go clear it out, clean it out, do repairs—”
“I’m there, man. Whatever you need.”
The look he gave me was pure gratitude, and he took a minute to compose himself before going on. “It’s going to be a big project. And I can take some PTO, but not until this project wraps up in two weeks, and even then I’ll only be able to take a week, and then I’ll have to go back on weekends, because a week won’t be nearly enough.”
“I could come help,” Karina said quietly from her side of the table.
“No,” Dad, Ozzy, and I all said at the same time.
It was bad enough that Ozzy had to go back. We weren’t about to put Karina through that as well. In fact…
“I can get started on it in a few days.”
Oz shook his head. “I can’t go that soon.”
“I’m not talking about you going. I’m talking about me going. It’s in Elmhurst, right?”
His jaw came forward as he thought. “Yeah, it is.”
“Great. I could look for investment properties while I’m there.”
Oz shook his head. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?” I challenged. Did I want to do it? Absolutely not. Nothing about cleaning out my stepbrother’s abusive dad’s house sounded appealing, but it was better than letting him do it alone. Neither Oz nor Karina had been back to Elmhurst since they’d left in the middle of his sophomore year.
Ozzy was still shaking his head, but I could tell he was giving in, and finally he conceded. “You won’t want to stay at the house.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Liam, you really don’t have to,” Karina echoed as she laid her hand over mine.
“I’m going. It’s done. So long as my boss will give me a little time off,” I said, looking pointedly at my dad.
He just shook his head with a smile. “I trust you’ll be useful to Ozzy and the business while you’re there.”
“Thanks, boss.” I turned back to Ozzy. “Just tell me the best hotel.”
“There aren’t any hotels,” Oz stated.
Of course there weren’t. Small-town America.
“There’s a motel, but trust me, you don’t want to stay there.”
“You could stay at the Honeybrook Inn,” Karina suggested.
“Great.” I smiled at her. “The Honeybrook it is.” I turned to Ozzy, determined to convince him that he should let me do this for him. “Just tell me how to get into the place. I’ll have a dumpster delivered as soon as possible, and I’ll go get a workout hauling trash.” I grinned like I would enjoy it. I did like a good workout just like Dad did, but I was also slightly squeamish when it came to gross stuff, so I may have been overstating my confidence.
Regardless, I’d get it done.
When it was time for me to head out after dinner, my dad walked me to the door. “Thanks for doing this, Liam,” he said as he set a hand on my shoulder. “I’d go myself, but…” He looked back toward the kitchen, where Karina and Ozzy were still visiting.
“You need to be here with her,” I said.
He blew out a breath. “Yeah. I think this is going to bring up grief for her in strange ways, and I can’t be gone while she’s trying to process it.”
“Well, I’m glad I can help,” I assured him.
“You need anything, you just let me know,” he said with a stern look.
“I will,” I promised and slipped out of the house.
HADLEY
“Coffee, keys, phone, jacket,” I muttered to myself as I rushed through the kitchen, gathering things as I went.
“You know,” Bri said from her perch at the table, her long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. “You could always just wake up ten minutes earlier.”
“Shut up,” I said as I dumped coffee into my tumbler.
She put up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, there is a simple solution to this stress you put yourself through every morning.”
“I hate mornings.” I shoved my keys in my pocket and reached for the door leading to the garage.
“You might hate them less if you—”
The door slammed on her words, and I jabbed the button to open the garage door amid the muffled sound of her laughter. I smiled, glad that my best friend and roommate never took my foul morning moods personally. Six a.m. was not my friend, but with Mags, the owner of the Honeybrook, out of town, it was up to me to be there at this unfortunate hour, instead of going in at my usual eight o’clock. Not that I was on friendly terms with seven a.m. or even eight a.m. All of the a.m.’s were in my black book.
Slipping into my car, I dropped my coffee cup in the holder, started the engine, and pulled out onto the tree-lined street. I loved this neighborhood. I’d loved it as a child, and I appreciated it even more as an adult. Though, if I were honest, me being an adult felt like a joke more often than not.
I leaned my elbow on the window frame and sighed. My moods had been a little more foul than usual. That’s what happens when your childhood home is in danger of being sold out from under you. It had broken my heart when my parents moved away when I was only a year into college, but I’d been thrilled when I moved back to town two years ago and found it available to rent. It had felt like the perfect solution to keep renting while saving up little by little so that when the owners did put it on the market, I could buy it. But nooooo. They decided they wanted to sell it this year, and I was nowhere close to being able to afford it. I closed my eyes for just a moment, fighting the bitterness. I still couldn’t put into words why my parents moving away upset me so much. It just did. I suppose I’d counted on the fact that I’d always have my home to come back to on breaks and during summers and holidays, but then they’d sold it. Sold it and moved to a different state, which meant that I didn’t really have a home to go back to. Sure, I could go visit my parents in their new house in West Virginia, but it wasn’t the same. Not even close. My memories of Tessa were so tied to that house that it felt like a betrayal to sell it.
Reclaiming my house even as a renter had been a triumph, and having the chance to live with my best friend was an added bonus. But what if they really did sell it in a few months like Florence had warned me they might? I sighed, knowing that letting my mind whirl and spin with what-ifs would just leave me drained.
I turned down the long drive that climbed the small hill at the edge of town, unable to keep myself from smiling as I drove under the dappled sunlight filtering through the tree branches that hung over the road. I never got tired of this drive.
I reached the top of the hill and passed by the little white church that had been built in the mid-1800s and was still attended by a good portion of the Elmhurst community. A little farther and the Honeybrook came into sight while the wind blew and cottonwood seeds fluttered down and gathered at the sides of the road. Spring’s version of snow drifts.
The beautiful day had calmed me by the time I parked behind the Victorian inn and headed to the staff entrance, my soul at rest and a smile on my face.
All that zen went out the window when something orange and living darted across my path with a hiss and a meow.
My hand flew to my chest as I rocked back. “GEEZ, Sterrence!” I looked for him, but he was already hidden deep in the bushes, growling low and mutinous. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t bother stopping for an answer but instead stomped inside. Sterrence was the town cat. He belonged to no one. He claimed no one. He was fed by everyone. And he had his own town lore.
But right now, he was just a nuisance that I had to ignore.
I stepped into the kitchen and was greeted by Abby, her customary apron tied around her waist and her coils of silver hair contained in a hairnet. The smell of her classic breakfast spread made my stomach perk up.
“Hey, Hadley.”
“Hey, Abby. Has Sterrence been around long?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good. Hopefully he’ll move on soon before he scares any guests away.”
“Oh, he’s harmless.”
“We know that, but the guests don’t.”
She let out a guffaw. “If someone is going to be scared off by a cat, they need a stiffer spine. You want anything?” she asked, gesturing to the various pastries and platters of sizzling breakfast food.
“No, but I’ll help you take these into the dining room.”
“You’re a gem,” she said with a wave of her spatula.
I made my way to the dining room, annoyed that I’d chosen heels today, but with this skirt, it really was the only option. After depositing the food on the long side table, I scooted out of the dining room, greeting guests as they made their way toward the delicious scents of fresh coffee and Abby’s cooking.
“I’m here,” I said to Eva, who was currently manning the desk. “Anything to report?”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head of short blonde curls that were streaked with bright red. “It was a quiet night. The Newtons checked out about twenty minutes ago to catch their flight, so when Chloe gets in, you can have her start in their room.” She bent to retrieve her purse from under the desk and gave me a salute. “I’ll be back tonight.”
“Thanks, Eva,” I said as I waved her on her way. I was the official boss until Mags got back, but Eva and I were both working to cover the hours when Mags was usually on call. Margaret Honeybrook was a constant presence at the inn, ensuring that breakfast ran smoothly as she sweet-talked the guests and making herself available as a listening ear or a tour guide whenever guests wanted it. So taking on the role of owner in addition to my managerial duties was a stretch for me. Mags was such a natural when it came to hospitality, whereas I was always afraid I was going to overstep.
I pulled up the bookings and scrolled through them. The Honeybrook had twelve guest rooms. Three were vacating today, and two were checking in. One was for just two nights, and the other was for…my brow jumped. Three weeks? With a possible extension? Holy Georgia. Mags must have been thrilled. I was thrilled. Long-term guests meant more money for less work. Unless they insisted that their room be cleaned and their linens replaced every day like that rat Mr. Mustover from last year. I’d asked Mags if we could ban him for life, but she just reminded me that he was a paying customer. Yeah, tell that to poor Chloe, who had to suffer his wrath if her housekeeping wasn’t done according to his specifications.
But never mind that. No reason to dwell on difficult guests when the vast majority of people were perfectly lovely. They came here looking for an idyllic place to stay in an idyllic town, and I thought we all did a superb job of providing exactly that. Elmhurst was situated in the Shenandoah Valley, nestled up against the Blue Ridge Mountains. We joked that our population was 4,703. Four thousand seven hundred happy citizens and three grumpy old men. And while our population was significantly more than 4,700, our three grumpy old men did make an appearance in the yearly Independence Day parade. We were surrounded by mountains, and the hill that the Honeybrook rested on rose up right in the middle of town, providing a gorgeous view of our little valley, and anyone wanting a scenic drive need only hop onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, and they could go for miles and miles of stunning scenery.
No wonder I loved this place so much.
2
LIAM
Quaint. I’m not sure I’d ever in my life used that word, but there was no word more appropriate for this inn. Even the fact that it was called an inn felt quaint. It looked as if it had once been a Victorian mansion but had been repainted and repurposed to draw in whatever weary travelers happened to find themselves in Elmhurst, Virginia.
I climbed the handful of steps that led up to a wraparound porch, then set down my small rolling suitcase and wheeled it through the French doors, hoping that the obviously old building wouldn’t have a shabby interior or any odd smells.
My eyes widened in approval when I stepped into the lobby. The structure had solid bones, and despite some wear and tear on the walls, floors, and furnishings, everything looked clean and bright. That was a relief since I was going to spend the next few weeks here.
I’d suggested to Oz that maybe after the initial cleanup stage of his dad’s house, once it was livable, we could just bunk there, but he was vehement that not only would he never stay in that house again, but it was bound to be uninhabitable. I’d conceded only because he was so passionate about it, but I was curious to go see it for myself. I had the feeling that Ozzy’s childhood trauma was talking more than his logic was.
Crossing the lobby, I noticed soft jazz playing from some hidden speakers and some sort of floral perfume scent that I hoped wasn’t present in the rooms. It smelled fine, but I wouldn’t want to sleep in a room that smelled that strongly.
A young woman wearing a cream blazer over a black shirt, blonde hair curled and draped over one shoulder, was scanning the computer screen. I fixed a friendly smile to my face, ready to make a good impression when she looked up.
Unfortunately, when she did look up, I tripped on the carpet. Just a little. Just enough for her to definitely notice that I had stumbled at the exact moment she’d looked up at me with her gorgeous blue eyes.
Mother of pearl, her eyes were striking.
She smiled in greeting. “Good afternoon, and welcome to the Honeybrook Inn. You must be Mr. Saunders.”
“Yes.” I cleared the rogue lump from my throat. “Yes, that’s me.” My collared shirt suddenly felt too tight, even though it definitely wasn’t.
“We’re glad you found your way to us. What brings you to town?”
“I’m just helping out my brother with some renovations.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.” She clicked a couple keys, and I tried to keep my eyes to myself even though she had a very pretty neck. “I’ve already got your card on file, so we’re all set for payment.” She pulled a little brochure out from under the counter and opened the trifold so it faced me, pointing with her pen. “This side has your Wi-Fi password and breakfast hours. There’s always cider and cookies available right over there.” She pointed to a long, skinny table set back in a nook to my right.
“And how much do those cost?” Probably five bucks a pop.
“Nothing at all,” she said with an easy smile. “They’re our gift to you.”
My brow shot up and I looked at her, but her attention was on the brochure as she spun it around and wrote in it. “You’ll be in room number five. It’s on the second floor.” She flipped it once more to face me, then gestured to the right side of the pamphlet. “And here we have recommendations for cafés and coffee shops in town since we don’t provide lunch or dinner. Checkout time is here.” She circled the times listed on the bottom of the page. “Any questions?”
“Uh…I don’t think so.”
“Wonderful.” She turned and pulled a key off of a hook, then turned back with a smile. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
She set off back toward the front of the inn and the large staircase there. I took a tiny detour over to the skinny table and snagged two cookies before catching up with her.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist those,” she said without turning around.
I already had a bite in my mouth, but I tried to talk around it. “How could I? These are fantastic.”
She glanced over her shoulder with a smile, and I was struck by the fact that not only was she absolutely my type, but we also had chemistry. It was humming in the space between us, and I had to wonder if she felt it too. Probably not, judging by how professional and casual she was being.
I tried not to fixate on how well her pencil skirt fit her as I followed her up the rather grand set of stairs with a chandelier hanging high overhead. “This place is beautiful,” I said to distract myself.
“It was originally built in 1872 as a summer home for a wealthy New York family,” she rattled off. “It was converted to an inn in the 1980s after the last surviving member of the family died and left it to the town’s preservation society. But of course the preservation society didn’t have the money to fix up a place like this, so they sold it to an investor, who promised to keep its historical integrity intact.”
“No modern plumbing, huh?”
“Exactly. Outhouse is out back.”
I sputtered a laugh, impressed by her quick comeback. “I suppose that means I’ll have to wash off using a water pump out back as well.”
She looked back at me as she reached the top step and turned to her left. “Glad we understand one another.”
I nearly opened my mouth to suggest that she probably kept an eye on the backyard so she could catch all the men washing off, but luckily my better sense kept me quiet. I was fairly certain such a thing would blow past friendly banter and cross into possible sexual harassment territory, and I had a strict never-be-mistaken-for-a-sleazeball policy.
She stopped at the first door and slipped the key into the lock. “Here you are,” she said as she held the door open for me.
“Thank you.” I slipped past her and took in the room filled with dark sturdy wood furniture, pin-striped wallpaper, and navy blue carpet. “Well, I was hoping for a really bold floral pattern on the walls, but I suppose this will do.” I lifted my brow at her with a smirk.
“Careful what you wish for. We have rooms like that.”
“Then I take it back,” I said, putting my hands up in surrender. “This is perfect.”
“That’s what I thought.” She moved as if to go. “Any questions, you can dial nine to talk to the front desk,” she said, picking up her professional manner once more. “Be careful of the bathroom door. It doesn’t lock, but it does sometimes stick, so just give it a good jiggle if it tries to hold you captive.”
“Captive in a bathroom. Not my idea of a vacation.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you aren’t on vacation.”
I was taken aback by her comment. “How do you know that?”
One of her eyebrows rose higher than the other. “Renovating houses isn’t vacation work.”
“Oh.” I was an idiot. “Right.” I’d forgotten I already told her about the house.
“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Saunders.” She backed out and started to close the door.
“Liam,” I said. “My name is Liam.”
Was I fooling myself, or was there a bit of delighted surprise in her eyes? “Hadley,” she said, then closed the door.
Yup, I’d just hit on the only staff member I’d met.
One week. One inn. One very smug cat.
I received a stack of paperbacks yesterday, so they are ready and waiting to be sent out to those who would like a signed copy!
Now I’m off to stress out about getting everything ready for my launch in a week, while also doing my best to make progress on Prince Dorian’s story.
Happy reading!
—Annette
Clean Romance Highlights
Locking Up My Love Life by Cindy Rae Hale is a newly released sweet romcom.
When a polished fashion executive clashes with a grumpy police chief, sparks fly hotter than a Carolina summer.
Romancing Rome by Kacie Taylor is an enemies-to-lovers romance.
What Sydney doesn’t want is a grumpy ex-pat ruining her once-in-a-lifetime trip to Italy.
Kissing Under the Fireworks by Christina Herrera is a holiday romance.
Life after high school is complicated. Can they find love despite the distance between countries?
Be First to Comment