~WHAT THE STORY’S ABOUT~
Welcome to Willow Bay, the perfect place to stick a chair in the sand, your toes in the water, and get lost in the ebb and flow of life and love.
When unwished-for love lands on your doorstep, do you embrace it or bolt?
Taking in a runaway teen, Bernie Pedersen, who was a runaway herself, goes toe-to-toe with the handsome social worker looking for the girl. Bernie will do anything to protect the child the way her sixteen-year-old self could have used.
Suffering burnout as his search for an endangered teen brings him to a small coastal town, Paul Gibson becomes embroiled in the lives of two people. One, a neatnik teenager whose home life wasn’t what he’d been told. And another, a feisty, redheaded pizza joint owner who makes him believe he could have a future in this town.
He’s legally bound to return the girl to her home, but when he learns things are not what they seem, Paul works with Bernie to do whatever it takes to keep the girl safe. Even if it means losing his job.
Can he also convince the beautiful loner to give them a chance?
This sensual, small town romance is the first in the Willow Bay series, which can be read in any order. Grab your copy now and get to know the down-home folks who live and work here.
“Gladys?” Bernie came out wiping her hands on a towel. She smiled when she saw the white-haired woman wrapped in her usual layers of clothing. “I was wondering if I’d see you today. Want some pizza?”
“Nah. You gave me enough yesterday to feed me for a week. Thank you very much for that.” Gladys patted Bernie’s cheek. “I brought you a stray.”
Bernie leaned sideways to see behind Gladys. “A stray?”
“Yeah. You collect them, don’t you? Find them homes?”
“Stray animals, Gladys. Animals. Who’s this?”
“I don’t know. Found her rustling around outside your place. Didn’t look like she was up to much good.”
Bernie edged around the counter to stand in front of the girl. Young, maybe preteen by the look. Hard to tell through all that familiar dirt. Bernie sniffed. Been a while since the kid had bathed, too. She leaned in for a closer look and the girl yanked her head back.
“Don’t touch me.”
Warning bells jangled in Bernie’s head. She knew this defensive posture too well. Damn.
“What do you want to do with her?” Gladys asked, having sat in a nearby chair.
Bernie watched the girl for a long moment, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shuddering at memories she still couldn’t quell at the age of thirty-two. She should call Social Services and let them deal with the kid. That was the right thing to do. At least, that’s what the law said. She knew differently. The idea of sending those angry blue eyes off to some foster home didn’t sit well. Some were good. Some? Well, not so much. Bernie rubbed her churning stomach. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this. “Leave her with me, Gladys. I have an idea or two.”
“Whooeee.” Gladys turned to the girl. “You’re in trouble now. This one,”—she pointed at Bernie—“doesn’t take shit off anyone.”