THE HONEYCRISP ORCHARD INN Exclusive Excerpt
Chapter 14
It’s nearly ten when I sneak back into the apartment that night. Maria returned to the city after promising to keep me posted on her PR efforts for the festival. Of course, she offered to let me stay with her while I get back on my feet, but I politely declined. After some discussion we both agreed that our collective wardrobes probably wouldn’t fit in her tiny apartment. It’s chic as hell, but it’s the approximate size of a broom closet. Maria went for quality over quantity. I happen to know she pays half of her rent with pictures of her feet in heels on OnlyFans. She’s not proud of it, and I’m sworn to secrecy because if her grandma finds out, there will be hell to pay, but it’s amazing how much you can make showing nothing but an ankle and the top of your foot. I honestly don’t know why her grandma would object, but apparently, it’s a Catholic thing. Or an Italian thing. I’m not here to judge.
I may also have to open an OnlyFans foot account if I can’t find an event-planning job. My feet aren’t as pretty as Maria’s, though. It’s not a great plan.
Still, I feel much more centered after seeing Maria. She always puts a practical spin on everything. She told me to just concentrate on planning the festival, put it at the top of my new resume, and possibly look for remote jobs to tide me over until I can make my way back into the New York scene. She made me feel better about everything . . . except my desire to steer clear from Aiden.
“You sure you want to stop mixing business with pleasure so hastily?” she asked just before Donny and I dropped her off at the train station earlier. I had gotten out of the car with her to see her off.
“Aiden’s my business partner,” I had insisted.
“Your hot business partner. And you kinda just told him you want to kiss him. He’s gonna make a move. Be ready.”
The thought makes my stomach feel like tiny hang gliders are winging through it.
Maria left after promising to keep working on the PR for the festival. She’s doing it all pro bono, which is so awesome of her. I don’t have anything to offer in return other than a comped room for the night of the Harvest Ball. To my surprise, she agreed to come. “I gotta see how this whole thing turns out. I’m invested now,” she said before waving goodbye and hopping on the train.
Now I am slinking into the apartment because I’m pretty sure Aiden is inside, and while I am completely sober at the moment, I do not want to run into him after what happened earlier. I’m never drinking cider again. I’m not used to that stuff. If I’d been drinking a martini, I’d have been in control. I know exactly how many martinis I can drink before getting so wasted I blurt out stuff I shouldn’t say. It is approximately 1.5 martinis. I had glugged nearly a whole giant thirty-two-ounce cider mug this morning, and apparently that is my tipping point. What the hell was the alcoholic content in that baby, anyway?
I’m pleased to find the apartment dark. Thank God. Aiden’s got to be asleep by now. Farmers tuck in early. I lower my purse to the counter, kick off my boots as quietly as I can, and then fumble around in the dark feeling for familiar objects to locate my bedroom. I have no interest in turning on a light. That might wake up Aiden.
I make my way to the far edge of the kitchen counter. The door to my room is about twenty feet to the left, past the kitchen table and just before the tiny sofa. It’s open space between me and the bedroom, though, so I just wave my hands out in front of me to ensure I don’t hit anything, and I start walking . . . slowly.
I count the steps in my head. I’m to seventeen when I run into the wall. Oops. I step back and rub my nose. Dang. I must have counted wrong. I am about to step again when the wall speaks.
“Trying to sneak past me?”
Gulp.
It’s Aiden.
My heart shoots up to my throat. I reach out again, and this time I realize what I thought was the wall was really Aiden’s chest. I pat it. I touch it. I run my fingers along it. Oh yeah. I recognize those pecs. He’s wearing a T-shirt, but it’s definitely Aiden.
Aiden’s breathing hitches, and my hand stops. That one little catch in his breath does something to me that I’m not going to be able to recover from.
“Ellie?” His voice is a deep, sexy whisper.
I close my eyes. “Yes?” My fingers are still touching his lower abdomen.
“I wanted to kiss you too.”
The admission makes me ache. I press my thighs together. I clench my jaw, my resolve crumbling away.
His hands move to my shoulders. I have no idea how he found them in the dark. Is my lust making me phosphorescent? One hand moves up my neck, slowly skimming the thin skin there with his thumb. When he reaches my jaw, his thumb traces along the bottom edge of it. My head tilts to the side automatically, wanting more.
His index finger skims my lips, and the next thing I know, his mouth is on mine. His tongue barely touches my lips. He’s tasting me, finding me. And my hands move up his abdomen, to his chest, then to his shoulders. I’ve wanted to grab these shoulders for days. Now’s my chance.
His mouth slants across mine, and our tongues meet. He tastes like smoky apples and smells like pine needles and maddeningly hot aftershave. He pulls me hard against his body, his large hands cupping my ass as he holds me close. A wave of wanting shoots through my whole body. I feel like I may collapse. But I cling to his shoulders and wrap my arms around his neck. He leans down, kissing me more, harder, closer. I can’t get enough. His mouth moves to my cheek, and then my ear, and I feel my heart start to race. His tongue traces my earlobe, and I nearly buckle. I make a whimpering sound in the back of my throat. He kisses the sensitive spot just beneath my ear. I shudder.
“Ellie,” he breathes against my cheek.
“Yes.” I want him to scoop me up into his arms and take me into the bedroom. Either bedroom will do. I’m not picky.
I’m waiting. Any minute now. Scoop! Scoop!
“Goodnight,” he breathes, and seconds later, I’m still trying to wrap my head around that when I hear his door click shut.
The Honeycrisp Orchard Inn. Copyright © 2025 by June Third
Enterprises, LLC. All rights reserved.
Honeycrisp Orchard Romance #1
A Cozy Small-Town Romance of Rediscovery, Forced Proximity, and the Magic of Autumn Set on a Quaint Apple Orchard
For fans of the Lovelight series and The Pumpkin Spice Café, this cozy and sexy romance follows a young event planner who returns to her family’s inn on an apple orchard to help run their Harvest Festival—only to find herself butting heads with the handsome son of the apple orchard’s owners.
Ellie Lawson’s city life was treating her just fine until a sour turn of events knocks her out in one fell swoop. Dumped by her boyfriend and fired from her event planning job, she is left with no choice but to return to her parents’ idyllic inn, nestled within a picturesque Honeycrisp orchard on Long Island. Anticipating a quiet hiatus in the attic apartment, she is instead met with Aiden, the stubborn, attractive son of the orchard owner who is currently occupying her planned refuge.
Forced together by circumstance, they find themselves not only roommates but also coworkers, when they’re put in charge by their parents of the orchard’s vital Harvest Festival, a lifeline for both the struggling orchard and the inn. Amidst the enchanting disorder of small-town life, Ellie and Aiden grapple with their conflicting values, burgeoning feelings, and an electrifying tension.
As Ellie discovers the unexpected charm of the life she left behind and Aiden learns there’s much more to Ellie than he’d first assumed, one fact remains: the future of the orchard and the inn depends on their unlikely collaboration.
Embark on a captivating journey of rediscovery, love, and the irreplaceable magic of small-town life.
Audiobook Narrator- Andi Arndt.
Romance Small Town [HarperCollins, On Sale: September 9, 2025, Paperback / e-Book, ISBN: 9780063454033 / eISBN: 9780063454040]
Valerie Bowman is an award-winning author who writes Regency-set historical romance novels aka Racy Regency Romps!
Valerie’s debut novel was published in 2012. Since then, her books have received starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly, Booklist, and Kirkus. She’s been an RT Reviewers’ Choice nominee for Best First Historical Romance and Best Historical Romance Love and Laughter. Two of her books have been nominated for the Kirkus Prize for fiction.
Valerie grew up in Illinois with six sisters (she’s number seven) and a huge supply of historical romance novels. After a cold and snowy stint earning a degree in English Language and Literature with a minor in history at Smith College, she moved to Florida the first chance she got. Valerie now lives in Jacksonville with her family including her rascally dogs. When she’s not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV and PBS.
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