Return to Heartland
by Jacquie Gee
Publication date: July 25th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
by Jacquie Gee
Publication date: July 25th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Will the girl save Heartland, or will Heartland save the girl?
BLURB
Lingerie and cupcakes have Becca
Lane living the sweet life in New York City—until the call that sends her home.
Heartland Cove may sound endearing, but in essence it’s a small, nosey, rural
town, in the middle of backwoods New Brunswick—a place Becca couldn’t wait to
leave. She arrives to find her mother acting strange, the family business in
peril, and the town in dire straits. What to save first? Worst of all, Jebson
Jefferies, Becca’s former fiancé—and a man she could happily never see
again—has been elected mayor and is threatening to destroy the future of
Heartland, along with Becca’s family legacy—and all she stands to inherit.
Not that she ever wanted it.
It’s…complicated.
Trent Nash, a former football
star, is a displaced Aussie with a big secret. He has escaped to small-town
Heartland Cove to start a new life and is determined to remain incognito. He
thinks he’s just about pulled it off when, a sassy redhead walks through his
door of his struggling establishment…and right into his heart.
As she becomes embroiled in a
crusade bigger than she bargained for, the beautiful, bronzed stranger comes to
her aid. Will she be able to put aside her dislike for him long enough to
accept his help to save Heartland Cove, or will he and Heartland Cove become
Becca’s savior? Perhaps deep down, what really needs rescuing here, has less to
do with Heartland, and more to do with Becca’s heart.
Return to Heartland is
the first in a series of sweet, (no sex on the page), contemporary romances set
in Heartland Cove.
Buy Link: Amazon
EXCERPT:
Dropping
my bags, I press my hands to the sides of my face and peer in through the
stained-glass in the front door. The same stained-glass that has graced the
front door of my family’s home for over a century now. Homestead. Not
a—whatever this Green Grub thing is supposed to be.
Is
that a cappuccino maker, I see? Mom doesn’t own a cappuccino maker.
I
scan the room, my vision slightly skewed because over peering through the
stained-glass.
No
sign of Mom anywhere.
I
don’t get it. Wouldn’t she have told me if she’d moved house? My conversation
with Mrs. Peterson comes to mind. I whirl around, unnerved, and stare out at
the town. They didn’t have her put away, or something, did they? Surely to
goodness, Aunt Penny would have called if that happened. My blood threads with
panic. No, she’s here. She’s got to be here.
Unless…
unless this is how they were planning to tell me. Maybe that’s why they
summoned me here. To break the news. My mouth goes dry.
Nonsense, they wouldn’t be that callous.
Nonsense, they wouldn’t be that callous.
I
run sweaty palms down the sides of my skirt. Whatever’s happened, I’m gonna
find out.
I
pick up my bags and charge on through the door— the heavy, ornately carved
Victorian wood door of the home where I was raised, and where my mother still
lives, according to the address on her mail. Or at least last Christmas. The
door slams shut behind me, giving my spine a jolt.
Customer
warning bells tinkle overhead that look suspiciously like the ones from my
Mom’s store across the way.
“Oh,
hey… hi!” A head pops up from behind a serving counter. A head attached to a
very a nice-looking face, and I neck I sense I should be throttling. I repeat,
there is a freaking bar-slash-serving-counter sitting smack dab in the middle
of my mother’s formal parlor! And I suspect he’s the culprit that put it there.
“Can I help you?” he says, and his eyes sparkle—a stunning shade of emerald
green, rimmed by a thick set of dark eyelashes. Like that improves things.
They’re set behind a sexy set of lenses. Clearly, he’s one of those guys who
looks even better with glasses on. You know, the kind. Where the glasses just
add to the already amazing features of his face. He’s sexy enough on his own,
but the glasses take it over the top. Not that any of that matters right now.
Neither does the fact that he has a killer accent—which, if my language sense
serves me, I believe is Australian. Though it could be South African. No,
definitely Australian. Again, not that it matters.
“Oh,
jeez, where are my manners.” All six-feet whatever of him shoots forward,
yanking an arborite chair out from under an arborite table, offering me a place
to sit. In my own living room!
I
glare down at the atrocity gracing my Mother’s parlor, then scowl up. “Who are
you? Why are you here?” Is that a ketchup stain on the brim of his hat?
“Hello
to you too,” he says.
“Where
is she?” I look around, darting doorway to doorway.
He
squints. “I’m sorry, were you supposed to meet someone?” He screws up his face.
“No,
I’m not meeting someone here. I live here. Lived here. Now, where is she?” I
drop my bags and kick off my shoes—cause, you know, habit.
“Are
you always this friendly when you meet someone?” The stranger glares.
“Only
when I arrive home to find a dazed-looking cook standing in my Mom’s formal
living room.”
His
stunning eyes flash. “Aah!” He finally clues in. “Oh, my gosh. That’s who you
are! You must be, Becca!” He lunges forward, sticking out a hand for me to
shake. I don’t take it. “Oh, excuse me.” He retracts his hand, wipes it off on
the front of his grimy apron and sticks it out again, like that was the
problem. “I’ve heard so much about you.” He breaks into an eye-squishing grin.
“Funny?”
I cross my arms. “I haven’t heard a thing about you.”
I
let his hand hang out between us like a cold, dead fish, ’cause you know, I
don’t like him.
If
I were forced to classifying him, say for my friend Tia or something, I’d go
with the ‘ruggedly hipster urbanite’, which makes me wonder why he’s here, in
the middle of backwoods New Brunswick, posing as a short order cook. He’s
sports one of those scruffy beards that looks like he only half bothers to
shave, and his curly hair is a mess under that baseball cap worn backward on
his head. Gawd, that cap is disgustingly grimy. I’ve never understood why do
men go for that look? I mean, sure, they don’t have to shave, but still, women
might want to kiss them or run their hands through their hair. Have they ever
considered that?
Not
that I want to kiss this one or anything. It’s just an observation.
“Perhaps
I could get you a drink or something?” He clasps his hands together.
“Perhaps
not.” I poker-smile back at him.
My
gaze runs up his muscled frame, along his broad, thick shoulders, and back onto
his flawless face. Gosh, didn’t the buff-spirits give this one everything? But
it’s all ruined when he opens his mouth. A bit of a smart-arse, isn’t he? “How
about you tell me who you are, and why you’re here, and what you’ve done with
my mother?” I growl, despite how good-looking he is.
“Your
mother hasn’t told you yet?”
“Does
it look like my mother’s told me?” I blink.
“Aaah…I’m
Trent.” He tries to offer me his hand again, but I still don’t shake it. “I
bought the place from your mom about a year back.”
“You
what?” Now, I’m really not shaking his hand. I hope my voice didn’t just shriek
as loud outside my head as it did inside. A year ago? I know I didn’t make it
home for Christmas the past few years, but—
Buy Link: Amazon
Author Info
Jacquie Gee is the alias of
Jacqueline Garlick. Maybe you’ve read her?
We are one and the same. Two faces of one author with very different writing styles. That way, I keep readers happy by keeping my writing passions separated.
We are one and the same. Two faces of one author with very different writing styles. That way, I keep readers happy by keeping my writing passions separated.
On a personal note, I love to talk… strange for a writer, I know, but I do. I’m told I can be pretty funny, though, my kids see things in a different light. I love to write romances with a strong, sassy, heroines, and scrumptiously, gorgeous leading men. I write sweet romance surrounded by chocolate and an overweight sheltie. Neither of which are related. And there are always with fresh flowers in the room. Raised in a small town in the country myself, I like writing about them best. I mean, who doesn’t love a small-town? Enough about me, what about you?
Drop me a line and let’s get to know each other.
jacqueline@jacquelinegarlick.com I love to hear from readers!
Author Links:
GIVEAWAYS!
Every day
this week Jacquie Gee will be giving away FIVE HEARTLAND COVE COUNTY ROMANCE
SURPRISE SWAG PACKS, one a day, on her Facebook Page GARLICK BOOKS. Enter Here to win one!
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