Heartbreak Cove is where the wild horses of Sanctuary Island go to die when they
get separated from their band. The cove also holds many other secrets. A ferry
boat is the only link to the mainland. Sheriff Andie Shepard is called to the
ferry about a disturbance involving a horse. She finds Sam Brennan there with a
beautiful stallion that is expressing just how unhappy it is being transported
on the boat. She has her tranquilizer gun at the ready, but watches Sam talk the
stallion down and into submission.
Andy first met Sam six months back when she arrested two teens at Heartbreak
Cove for trespassing and under-age drinking. One of those teens was Sam's
nephew. She knew then Sam was a dangerous man, a man full of mystery, and she
did not want to get involved with him. But there seems to be some kind of
magnetism that keeps drawing her to him. When three men in suits come to
Sanctuary Island looking for Sam and the stallion, Andie and the town rally to
save both Sam and his horse. But can she save herself from falling in love?
There were only so many places a fifty- pound bulldog could hide.
Holding her breath, Andie unhooked the flashlight from her utility belt and
crouched to shine it
through the small hole in the old stable door. She squinted around at what she
could see of the brokendown, abandoned stalls, but she saw no movement other
than the dance of dust motes in the sunlight filtering through the partially
caved-in roof. Andie made a hopeful kissing noise. “Come on, Pippin. Are you in
there? Your daddy’s pretty worried about you. Come on out.”
He had to be there. She’d already checked the pine copse behind Mr. Leeds’s big
plantation- style house, the overgrown kitchen garden where the dog liked to
dig up vegetables, and the crawl space under the wraparound porch— which
explained the red clay dirt streaking her khaki uniform where it clung to her
sticky, sweaty skin in damp patches.
Sighing, Andie contemplated the ragged hole in the stable door. Was it even big
enough for a dog of Pippin’s considerable bulk to squeeze through? She had zero
desire to step foot in a building that ought to have been condemned years ago if
there wasn’t a chance the missing dog might actually be inside.
What alternative did she have, though? She couldn’t go back up to the house and
tell Dabney Leeds— the wealthiest full- time resident of Sanctuary Island,
leading member of Sanctuary’s town council, and a major contributor to local
political campaigns— that she hadn’t been able to find his beloved bulldog.
But there was a limit to what Andie was willing to do, even in an election year.
Risking her life in a derelict outbuilding just to be able to tell Mr. Leeds
she’d searched everywhere— was it really worth it? Especially when she was
running unopposed. Her time would be better spent going through the pinewood
again, this time with a pocketful of dog treats.
Decision made, Andie wiped her hands on her thighs and prepared to stand up—
when her gaze snagged on a wisp of blue fabric clinging to one of the torn slats
in the stable door. Her heart sank. She’d seen that shade of blue before . . .
on a certain depressed bulldog who’d been crammed into a sailor costume.
She was going to have to go in.
The spring breeze kicked up, sending a chill through Andie’s bones when the
dilapidated stable building creaked ominously. Standing, she put a hand to the
pocked, rotting wood of the door and felt the tremor as the wind shook the
entire structure. She was so focused on tracking the building’s rasping groans
that she almost missed the faint whimper from inside.
Pippin. He was in trouble. Maybe he’d gotten trapped in there, or injured, and
that’s why he hadn’t come when she called. The world went sharp and clear as
determination filled Andie’s chest. She didn’t pause to ponder the fact that her
body was having the same response to rescuing a runaway bulldog as she used to
get from tactical raids on drug dealers’ hideouts back in Louisville.
She pulled in a deep, bracing breath and grasped the rusted iron handle of the
sliding barn door. It stuck, of course, but Andie kept the pressure slow and
steady until the door finally yielded with a piercing shriek. When the opening
was wide enough to slip through, Andie shone the flashlight around the dim interior.
The stable clearly hadn’t been used in years, maybe decades. Piles of dried
green hay had drifted down from the sagging loft, filling the still air with the
smell of mildew and decay. Wind whistled through the cracks in the walls, and
when Andie narrowed her gaze up at the sharp, uneven slope of the roof, she got
a clear view of clouds moving quickly across the pale April sky. It was really
blowing out there.
In here, it wasn’t much better. Andie’s pulse sped at the knowledge that this
old place could come down around her ears at any moment. She reminded herself
that the building had managed to stay standing for a long time, even through
last spring’s terrible storms. There was no reason that today should be the day
it collapsed. Except for the fact that today was the day Andie had to go poking
through it, moving fallen beams and generally disturbing whatever structural
integrity it had left, in her search for a wayward bulldog.
She whistled softly. “Hey, boy. I know you’re in here someplace. Come on, puppy.”
The low whine from deep in the gloom sounded so human, Andie almost fumbled her
flashlight. There, in the furthest corner of the stables under the droopy
overhang of the loft, Pippin squatted, looking miserable. Or maybe that was just
his face.
“Hey there!” Andie moved closer, careful about it in case Pippin got spooked and
ran off before she could get her hands on him. But after a single, morose
glance, Pippin twisted his stocky body and started licking at his left haunch,
below the ripped hem of his mud- streaked sailor suit. Andie squinted— was that
blood?
Concerned, she picked up the pace as the wind buffeted the building again. In
the corner, Pippin switched from licking the scratch on his hindquarters to
giving his undercarriage a good tongue bath. Andie snorted. Trust a male
creature to get distracted from an injury by a little attention to his manly parts.
Hoping that indicated his wound wasn’t serious, Andie reached the dog just as a
particularly loud creak sounded through the structure. Her gaze shot to the
loft, which shuddered as she stared up at it as if it were about to come
tumbling down. There was no time to coax Pippin out on his own, even if he could
still walk.
Instead, Andie bent her knees and got her arms around his squirming bulk, and
lifted him against her chest. Thank the sweet Lord she’d kept up with PT since
she took this job or she’d never be able to heft a reluctant, wriggling bulldog
and hustle them both to safety. Pippin was fi fty pounds of muscle, fat, and
heavy bone— and he apparently hadn’t had a pedicure in a while, judging by the
pain raking across her skin wherever he flailed those scrabbling paws.
The next few minutes were a blur of huffing, puffing, barking, and whimpering,
but Andie got them out of the stable more or less intact. However, when she
tried to put the struggling bulldog down, he refused to stand on his own feet.
Groaning, Andie heaved him back up and staggered toward the main house. As soon
as they were within view of it, Andie had to bite back another groan.
Mr. Dabney Leeds was standing on the porch, banging his brass- topped cane
impatiently against the floorboards. “Finally! Took you long enough. Where was he?”
Reminding herself that Mr. Leeds’s querulous tone was most likely a cover for
how worried he’d been about his furry friend, Andie gasped out, “In the old
stable out back.”
“Is he hurt?” Mr. Leeds’s anxious gaze roamed over Pippin, who’d given up
wiggling, at least. The bulldog had gone absolutely limp in Andie’s arms,
turning his bulky body into a dead weight.
“I think it’s just a scratch,” Andie said, concentrating on hauling herself up
the porch steps.
Mr. Leeds scowled. “My poor baby! Hurry on now, get up here and put him in his
bed so you can call Dr. Fairfax for me.”
A perfect miniature replica of the cushioned wicker porch furniture sat beside
the gliding loveseat. Andie deposited her burden on the pink rosetted pillow and
straightened with a hand to her back. Mr. Leeds fussed over Pippin, who closed
his eyes in resignation, apparently having given up on his bid for freedom. At
least for today. Andie pulled out her cell phone to dial the local veterinarian
just as the radio receiver clipped to her utility belt crackled to life.
“Disturbance in progress down at the dock,” the dispatcher’s staticky voice
said.
Sheriff Andie Shepard may be new to Sanctuary Island but, like everyone else who
comes here, she’s already fallen under its healing spell. Andie is determined to
leave her mistakes behind her and make this scenic haven her home. But she just
might have to change her plans—as well as open her heart—when an unexpected
visitor shows up on her doorstep…
Caitlin is the ten-year-old niece Andie never knew she had. Silent, wary, and
shy as can be, Caitlin only responds to the horses that run wild across the
island. Andie has no idea how to deal with Caitlin—until Sam Brennan enters the
picture. A tall, handsome loner who rehabilitates abused horses, Sam is able to
help Caitlin break out of her shell. But that’s not all: He finds a way to touch
something deep in Andie’s heart, opening her up to the healing power of love.
Together, these three lost souls must face the darkness in their past to build a
brighter future. Because here, on Sanctuary Island, anything is possible…
Lily Everett grew up in a small town in Virginia reading Misty of Chincoteague
and Black Beauty, taking riding lessons, and longing for a horse of her own.
Sadly, her parents gave her a college education instead—but she never forgot
what the world looked like from the back of a horse. She currently lives in
Austin, Texas, where she writes full-time.
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