
Kit Blakemore is ready to live again. After her husband died while serving in the military, she was in a haze of grief. Now she wants to reclaim her former selfβfinish her degree and find a better career to provide for their sweet little boy, Oliver. To do that, sheβll need to sell her late husbandβs dilapidated Victorian in Seashell Harbor. But first, Kit intends to give Ollie the kind of unforgettable seaside summer she had growing up, making lifelong memories and friendships.
Of course, nothing goes exactly as she planned. Ollie is struggling with his confidence, and frankly, so is Kit. But everything changes when her husbandβs best friend, Alex de la Cruz, returns to town, offering to help her renovate. She doesnβt expect Alex to temporarily move inβ¦or for him to bond with Ollieβ¦or for her numb heart to begin thawing. Slowly heβs helping Kit and Ollie heal, and it scares her to death.
Kit swore she wouldnβt leave herself open to the pain of loss again. But if sheβs going to teach her son to be brave and move forward, Kit must first face her own fears.
Excerpt Kit was just texting back when she heard pounding. Harsh, metal-biting-rock kind of pounding. The distinct, sharp chink of a heavy implement repeatedly splitting stone, echoing through the early morning quiet. She rose from the peeling old chair and carefully walked down the crooked back porch steps, along the side of the house and around the tangled, overgrown shrubbery and low-hanging tree branches. All of which gave her plentiful cover as she cautiously rounded the front, hovering her finger over the final 1 in 911, just in case. What she saw made her gasp.Β
A shirtless man was taking a sledgehammer to the already-crumbling steps. And the sight stopped her dead in her tracks.Β
It wasnβt the awful steps that drew her attention or the enormous sledgehammer glinting in the morning light as he ripped out the old mortar and cracked sandstones that were scattered all about.Β
A flush of heat rose all through her as she noted the fine smooth lines of tensing muscle, the elegant movements, his lean but strong build. Whoever this man was, he moved with a confident fluidity, with a grace akin to a dancer, and it was mesmerizing.Β
Lift the hammer, swing down hardβchink went the stone. Another lift and repeat.Β
No wonder his shirt was off. He was probably burning a thousand calories a minute. Bet his friends didnβt have to drag him out of bed to force him to jog three miles on a chilly morning.Β
Also, he was way too hot to be cold.Β
She laughed at the silly joke. It wasnβt like her to be giddy. Well, the old Kit wouldβve been, for sure. A sense of relief rushed through her that maybe her old self really was in there somewhere.Β
Alsoβ¦her ovaries were still clearly functioning.Β
Suddenly, the man straightened up. She watched as he ran the back of his hand along his forehead. Then he turned, his expression foreboding, brows drawn down over dark eyes. Β
Busted.Β
A shock reverberated clear through her as recognition hit. His pitch-black hair was wavy and longish now, grown out from the high-and-tight military cut when sheβd seen him last. And his skin wasnβt tanβthat illusion came from his natural Latino coloring. She forced herself to look directly at him. But the intensity of his dark gaze wasnβt any less calming.Β
Alex de la Cruz. Here, working on Carsonβs house. Despite the fact that sheβd told him thanks but no thanks. A quick scan showed a shiny black pickup sitting in the driveway. She hadnβt seen it since theyβd jogged along the coastline and approached from the backyard.Β
He took in her leggings, Carsonβs old sweatshirt, and her multicolored knit cap with dual pom-poms, a gift from Ollie last Christmas. She saw the moment recognition widened his eyesβand he looked about as pleased as she was.Β
βHello, Katherine,β he said, his voice deep and as calm as if they met passing on the street. It sounded mocking because no one had called her Katherine since sheβd gotten detention in high school for passing notes in Lit class.Β
Come to think of it, heβd been the one sheβd gotten in trouble with for that. Theyβd also been chem lab partners, and theyβd joked around and had fun. In the days before heβd developed a branch up his butt.Β
He might as well have called her Mrs. Blakemore for all the formality brimming in the deep baritone of his voice.Β
Heβd always been a little odd. When Carson was around, Alex rarely even glanced at her, giving the air of barely being able to tolerate her. Sheβd written it off as him being one of those men who simply didnβt βseeβ womenβas equals, anyway. Still, sheβd put up with him because Carson had loved him.Β
Anger welled up. Because besides ignoring the fact that sheβd told him not to come, he was doing things to Carsonβs house uninvited. Actually, worse than that. In defiance.Β
βHello, Alex,β she managed as she struggled to choke down her fury. βWhat are you doing here?βΒ
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