The books of May are here—fresh, fierce, and full of feels.
"Love when you least expect it..."
Reviewed by Sharon Salituro
Women's Fiction Contemporary | Romance Contemporary
Celeste always thought she had the perfect life. Celeste was a teacher, and she thought she found the man of her dreams in Emerson, a policeman in the town. Until she found out that he been cheating on her for almost the entire time they were together.
Heartbroken, Celeste decides to spend the summer with her sister Jenna in Moonlight Harbor. This is the small town where they went every summer to see their Aunt Edie when they were children. Jenna now runs the inn there. Celeste is going to rethink her life and help her sister for the summer. Celeste is not looking for love, but of course, when you aren't looking, you find it. Paul, the pastor of the church catches her eye. Paul seems to be a perfect choice. Celeste also meets several of the guests as she is cleaning their rooms. One of them, Henry, is a writer of murder mysteries.
As things progress, Paul and Celeste spend more and more time together. There are some people in the community that feel Celeste is not the right fit to be a pastor's wife. One of them is Hyacinth, who is madly in love with the pastor. As their relationship grows stronger and moves forward, Henry tells Celeste he doesn't think Paul is right for her... Torn between two men, what's a girl to do?
THE SUMMER RETREAT
SUMMARY
Join USA
TODAY bestselling author
Sheila Roberts for a
seaside escape to the beaches of Moonlight Harbor
Celeste Jones has plans for a perfect summer with her
boyfriend (and hopefully soon-to-be fiancé)—until he dumps
her to be with the woman he’s had on the side for months.
Heartbroken and furious, Celeste resolves to move on. When
the going gets tough, the tough…okay, the not-so-tough go to
the beach.
As soon as school lets out for the summer, she waves goodbye
to her first-graders, packs up her bikini and heads for
Moonlight Harbor, where she knows her big sister, Jenna,
will receive her with open arms. Jenna could probably use
some help at the Driftwood Inn, and Celeste is happy to do
chores around the place in exchange for a relaxing summer
escape. She just needs something—or someone —to
distract her from her troubles.
Finding The One can be tricky, and Jenna is determined to
make sure Celeste gets it right this time around. Not that
Jenna’s an expert. She’s still trying to sort out her own
love life. But if both sisters listen to their hearts,
eventually they’re bound to discover that life—and love—is
good at the beach.
Excerpt Celeste Jones had kissed so many frogs looking for her
prince, she should have turned green and grown warts on her
lips. But she'd finally gotten it right in the man
department. Emerson Willis was strong and smart. And sexy.
Masculine and excitingly alpha. And a spectacular dancer.
And sexy. And a cop. Did it get any sexier than that? They'd
been together a year, and what a great year it had been.
He'd spent so much time at her place, he might as well have
moved in, but he felt it wouldn't look good, with her being
a teacher and all. As if first-graders knew anything about
the birds and the bees or cared what their teacher did in
her off hours. As if anyone cared what anyone did with
anyone else these days. It had been sweet of him to think of
that, though, and she loved him all the more for it.
Still, why not make what they had official since it was so
great? "We're having a good time," he was always saying.
"Relax and enjoy the ride."
She could do that. Spring had come, and she was looking
ahead to a summer of off-roading, trips to Eastern
Washington to visit the wineries, hitting the shooting
range—you had to do that when you were with a cop—and
meeting each other's families.
Nothing wrong with taking your family along on the ride. But
whenever she tried to get him over to her mother's or
suggested a trip to the beach to meet her sister, Jenna, and
her greataunt Edie, something came up to prevent it. Same
with meeting his family. There was always an excuse. His
parents were busy. He was busy. He had to work an extra
shift. That seemed to happen a lot lately. Was it normal for
a police officer to have to pull so many extra shifts?
If it wasn't for his reluctance to take things to the next
level, Emerson Willis would be perfect. No, no, he was
perfect. He just didn't want to rush into anything. And
really, there was nothing wrong with that. Celeste had done
her share of rushing and it hadn't led to anything good. But
after all this time, it was hardly rushing to meet the parents.
They needed to have a talk, she thought as she left school
late on a Friday afternoon. She and Emerson were planning to
hit the gym together; then he was coming over to her place
for pizza and to watch a movie. Before they got lost in
movie land, she was determined they'd talk about what was
going on in the real world. She stopped by Papa Murphy's and
picked up a take-and-bake pizza, then popped into the
grocery store for a six-pack of Hale's Ales, his favorite
microbrew, to go with it, along with some salad makings.
She was getting into her car when he called on her cell.
"Can't hang out tonight, babe," he said. "I feel like shit."
"Oh, no. What's wrong?"
"I think I've got a fever. Maybe it's the flu."
Flu in late May? She thought people got that during the
winter. "I'm sorry," she said. "And here I just picked up
pizza for tonight."
"Freeze it."
"It's Papa Murphy's." Okay, did that sound like she was
trying to guilt him or bribe him into coming over? Yes, she
wanted to see him, but she didn't want him to get worse. And
while she wanted to see him , she didn't want to see
his germs. "I guess I'll bake it and then freeze it. We can
have it when you're well."
"Whatever," he said.
Whatever was right. As if he cared what she was
going to do with their pizza when he was sick. "Well, feel
better," she said.
"Love you, Law and Order."
"Back atcha," he said and ended the call.
Back atcha . That was about as close as he ever came
to getting mushy. Oh, he had no problem saying he wanted
her, was crazy about her, was into her, but the
L -word seemed to get stuck in his mouth.
A couple of times she'd tried to teasingly pull it out of
him, offering to give him speech therapy. "Repeat after me,
looooove." He would smile and shake his head and say, "You
know how I feel about you."
She did. Of course she did. Didn't she?
"I'm not sure about this," Celeste's sister, Jenna, had said
when she'd checked in after Valentine's Day and learned
there was still no ring, no proposal, no mention of meeting
the family.
"Remember, he was married once before," Celeste had reminded
her. "He's just cautious. You should understand that."
"There's cautious and then there's taking advantage of a
woman," Jenna had said.
That was when Celeste had to go…do something, anything. Bye.
Her sister's words had sounded like what their mother would
say—if her mother knew that Celeste and Emerson had hooked
up. Months ago. Fortunately, Mom never asked, and Celeste
never volunteered the information.
But Mom did ask when she was going to meet the "amazing" man
in Celeste's life.
Soon, Celeste decided. As soon as he got well, she was
hauling him over to her mother's house. Even if she had to
use his handcuffs on him.
Meanwhile, though, the poor guy. What could she do to help
him feel better? Chicken soup! She wasn't the most talented
cook around, but she did make a mean chicken soup. And even
though the weather was warm, when you were sick you needed
soup. She went back into the store and bought a rotisserie
chicken, then drove to her apartment and got to work.
Within an hour she was pulling a fragrant chicken rice soup
off the burner to cool. That would make him feel better.
While it cooled she redid her makeup, checked out Instagram
and Facebook and texted her friend Vanita. Then she put her
soup in a container, hopped in her Prius and drove over to
Emerson's apartment on her mission of mercy.
He rented a slick unit in a building that had a pool and a
party room. Two bedrooms. Plenty of room to spread out.
Okay, once they moved in together, someone would have to
sacrifice some stuff because his place was pretty full and
her apartment, also two bedrooms, was packed to the gills
with furniture and cute garage-sale finds. Her second
bedroom served as an office and craft room. They could
always buy a house.
She wanted a house. And a yard. And kids. And a dog. Emerson
needed to get with the program. She was enjoying the ride,
but she'd enjoy it a lot more if she knew they were going to
get serious. She was thirty-six, for crying out loud.
Thirtysix and a half, to be exact. The alarm on her
biological clock was going off. Yes, once he was well, they
were definitely going to have that talk, she decided as she
went up the stairs to his second-floor unit.
She was sure she heard music coming from inside as she
knocked on the door. And voices. Did he have the TV on?
She was about to knock again when the door opened. There
stood Emerson in swimming trunks, chest bare, muscles on
display. Why?… What?… Was he taking a swim to cool his
fevered brow?
"Is that the pizza delivery?" called a female voice.
Pizza delivery! Emerson had a fever going, all right, but it
wasn't from the flu. "I thought you were sick." You big,
rotten lizard.
He blinked as if trying to bring her into focus. "Uh, I'm
feeling better."
"I just bet you are," she snapped and pushed past him.
"Celeste," he protested.
There, coming out of his second bedroom, was a woman showing
off long hair with an expensive rainbow tint job. Her hair
wasn't all she was showing off. That bikini barely covered
anything. Not that she had much to cover.
Really? Emerson was cheating on her with that? Celeste
looked so much better in her bikini.
"Not pizza delivery," she snarled as she marched to the
kitchen. "Chicken soup. For the sickie." She slammed the
container on the counter.
Emerson was in the living room now, looking back and forth
between the women, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Celeste demanded.
He swallowed. "This is Becky."
"Becky," Celeste said sweetly. "I'm Celeste. The girlfriend.
Emerson and I have been seeing each other for a year now.
You know, hanging out, taking trips, going to the shooting
range. Having sex," she added, throwing him the look of
death. "How about you, Becky? How long have you and Emerson
been seeing each other?" Having sex.
Becky's eyes were slits, and she turned them on Emerson.
"You…bastard." She wheeled around and marched back to the
bedroom.
"Becky, wait," he called. Then he frowned at Celeste. "What
are you doing here?"
"I made you chicken soup because I thought you were sick.
You're sick, all right, you rotten, cheating douchebag." She
grabbed her offering. "You don't deserve this." And he sure
didn't deserve her.
Emerson trailed after her. "She doesn't mean anything to me."
Yeah, that was why he'd lowered his voice.
But Becky had heard. She'd gathered her clothes and was
steaming toward the door. "Thanks a lot," she yelled.
"Obviously, I don't mean anything, either," Celeste said and
followed her.
"Beck, I mean, Celeste, wait!" he called.
Celeste stopped long enough to glare at him. "I wasted so
many kisses on you. And a year of my life I'll never get
back." She pointed a finger at him. "I thought you were so
noble. A cop, for heaven's sake. There oughta be a law
against cheating and you oughta be sent to love jail. For life."
With that parting shot, she banged the door shut and stamped
down the stairs behind Becky, almost as fast as the tears
racing down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Becky said as the two women walked to the
parking lot, fuming side by side. "I had no idea. He said he
was divorced."
"Oh, he is. His wife was a bitch."
"Wouldn't have sex with him," Becky added. "Didn't really
care about him."
Celeste wiped away a tear. What a pair of fools they were.
"How long…?"
"Three months."
Three months! For three months he'd been playing her, seeing
another woman on the side. "So you were those extra shifts
he's been pulling." Enjoy the ride, he'd kept saying. Some ride.
"He told me he had to work extra shifts, too," Becky said.
She stopped at the jazzy little convertible next to
Celeste's Prius. "I really am sorry."
"It's not your fault," Celeste assured her. "I just hope
someday he gets what's coming to him."
The smile blooming on Becky's face looked positively evil.
"He will. My dad's his chief. And Daddy feels strongly about
his men living up to the badge they wear."
Celeste gave her a smile in return. "Good. I'm sorry we met
like this. I hope next time you find someone who's not a…
Emerson."
"I will," Becky said with confidence. "You, too."
Celeste thanked her and got in her car. With her chicken
soup. Then she cried her way home. Emerson had seemed so
perfect. She'd wanted him so much, given so much of herself
to the relationship, and all she'd gotten in return was a
broken heart.
"Girl, I don't know how you do it," her friend Vanita said
later that night as they sat on Celeste's little balcony.
She'd called Vanita, who had come over to be with her in her
time of sorrow, bringing a listening ear and ice cream.
"What is wrong with me that I didn't figure out what was
going on?" Celeste gave her chocolate cherry ice cream a
stir. Her second bowl, but who was counting? At least she
wasn't eating out of the carton. She hadn't stooped to that.
"Other than the fact that you're too trusting and figure
everyone has principles? Nothing."
"I shouldn't have gotten serious so fast," Celeste said with
a frown. "Jenna's right. I'm always rushing into relationships."
"Well, I gotta say, he did seem like a keeper." She shook
her head. "What a pile of poop that man is."
"Now I know why he never said he loved me. He didn't." Oh,
boy, here came the tears again. Celeste dabbed at her eyes
and took a big spoonful of ice cream.
"Be glad you found out now. What if he'd finally asked you
to marry him? If he'd cheat on you now, you know he'd do it
when you were married."
"I am so through with men."
"Your sister said the same thing and look at her now, with
two fabulous men after her. Guys aren't all bad.
Your perfect man will come along."
"There is no such thing."
Vanita pointed her spoon at Celeste. "Don't you go talking
like that. You're gonna find someone who appreciates you.
Meanwhile, don't be such a pushover for a great bod and a
nice smile."
"I'm not that shallow!"
"No, but you're just too… I don't know. Eager."
Yes, she supposed she was. But darn it all, she only wanted
a good man and that TV sitcom happy life she'd yearned for
as a kid. Not that her mother and grandparents hadn't given
her and her sister a good life. But there'd been a key part
missing. A dad. Her father had died when she was a baby.
So was that her problem? Was she always looking for the
father she'd never had? Did she need therapy?
No, darn it. She needed a man who wouldn't cheat.
"You gotta start protecting your heart, girl. And don't be
givin' it away to every man who comes along with a smooth line."
"Hey, no shaming," Celeste said irritably.
"I'm not shaming. I'm lecturing. Get tough."
Get tough. Yeah. She could do that. Next time she went to
the gym and saw Emerson… Eew. She didn't want to go to the
gym anymore. She was bound to see him there.
What if she did run into him? What if he told her he
realized he'd been a fool and he wanted her back?
Heaven help her, she'd probably take him with open arms. She
had to get out of town.
"Why don't you go spend some time with your sister this
summer," her mom suggested when Celeste told her that she
and Emerson were no more. "Life is always good at the beach."
"Life isn't good anywhere right now," Celeste grumbled.
"It'll get better," her mom promised. And if anyone should
know, it would be Melody Jones. Widowed young and left with
two little girls to raise, she'd carved out a happy life for
herself. And all without a man. "Meanwhile," she added.
"I know. Look for the rainbow in the storm."
"Exactly."
Her mom was right. What was the sense in moping? When the
going got tough, the tough…went to the beach.
So as soon as school was out, Celeste packed her bikini and
flip-flops and drove to Moonlight Harbor, a small beach town
on the Washington Coast, to stay with her sister and niece
and great-aunt. Jenna had been more than happy at the idea
of her sister coming for a long stay. Between running the
Driftwood Inn, keeping her massage business going, and being
mother of the year, Jenna was always busy. She'd insisted
she could use the help as much as Celeste could use a change
of scenery.
And there was no better place for that than Moonlight
Harbor. Mom had brought Jenna and Celeste there for many
happy visits when they were kids, so it felt like coming
home as she drove through the white stone gateway at the
town's entrance.
There was Nora Singleton's ice cream parlor, where their
great-uncle Ralph took them for sundaes back when he was
alive. There were the cute cabana shops she'd enjoyed
visiting her last time down. There were the deer, grazing on
the grass in the median. They drove the town's gardeners
nuts, eating up flowers before they could bloom and
strolling across lawns like they owned the place, which they
did, but Celeste thought they were sweet. She loved their
big, trusting brown eyes. They all had brains the size of a
peanut and often trotted out in front of oncoming cars, but
luckily for the deer, people always stopped for them. Yes,
here people cared for the clueless and trusting. Moonlight
Harbor was the perfect place to mend a broken heart.
Or get stopped by a cop. She could feel her sunny smile
slipping away as she pulled over. She was scowling by the
time one of Moonlight Harbor's finest came up to her car
window. He was cute, with sandy hair and hazel eyes. He,
too, probably had a six-pack just like Emerson.
"What?" she demanded, making him blink.
"Uh, you've got a taillight out," he stammered, his cheeks
turning pink.
"Oh." Okay, she needed to holster her guns. "Um, thank you,
Officer. That was really nice of you. I'll get it fixed
right away."
He nodded and told her to have a good day, then returned to
his car.
"Everyone is not an Emerson," she told herself. But she was
so over cops.
The very thought of Emerson put that frown back on her face,
until she pulled into the parking lot of the Driftwood Inn.
A one-story building with only twenty rooms, it was a relic
from the sixties. But it was a refurbished relic with lots
of charm, painted blue with white trim. The office had
driftwood outside it and a fisherman's net hanging on the
front exterior. And the pool, that was the best. It had a
mermaid swimming under a full moon painted on the bottom.
The whole place called, "Come on back to when life was
simple. Stay and have a good time." She intended to.
Her sister was working the front desk when she walked in,
and Jenna's face lit up at the sight of her. "You're here!"
she cried and rushed to hug Celeste.
"I am so ready to turn into a sand crab," Celeste said.
"And we're all ready to have you. Perfect timing, too, since
my latest maid quit."
"You're going to work me to death in housekeeping on my
summer break?"
"Only mornings," Jenna said with a grin. "Come on, let's go
over to the house."
"Don't you have to stay in the office?"
"No one's due to check in," Jenna said. "Besides, my cell
number is posted in the rooms. If anyone has an emergency
they can call me."
Only the week before Jenna had been summoned to a room to
deal with an overflowing toilet. Her sister was a saint.
Their great-aunt's house where Jenna and her daughter,
Sabrina, lived was an old, two-story charmer complete with
gables and a big front porch. Jenna had focused her first
summer on getting the motel up and running. This summer the
house was getting a facelift with blue paint and white trim
to match the motel. Work had begun, and the second story was
already half-painted.
They went inside to find Aunt Edie settled on the couch,
crocheting granny squares for an afghan. Jolly Roger, her
parrot, was perched behind her, supervising. She was wearing
her favorite elastic-waist slacks and a pink sweatshirt that
clashed with her cherry-red, tightly permed hair and her
coral lipstick.
"Look what I found," Jenna announced.
"Oh, Celeste darling!" Aunt Edie cried, pushing herself up
from the couch and coming to greet her great-niece. In her
early eighties and still active and happy, she was an
inspiration.
"Thanks for letting me come," Celeste said, bending over to
hug her. What there was of her. Father Time had stuck Aunt
Edie in a compactor, shrinking her.
"You know you're always welcome here," she told Celeste.
"Isn't she, Roger?"
"Always welcome," Roger repeated, walking along the top of
the couch back. "Call the cops."
"No more cops," Celeste cracked.
This made her aunt look at her in concern. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Celeste said. "I had a lucky escape."
"Not all police are like that. We have some good ones here.
And several of them are single."
"Oh, yeah." Jenna grinned. "Frank Stubbs would be more than
happy to help you heal your heartache."
"I was thinking of that nice Victor King," said Aunt Edie.
"I might have met him on my way in," Celeste said. "Kind of
tall. Blushes easily?"
"That would be the one," Jenna said. "He's a sweetie."
"There is no such thing. Not when you're talking about cops."
"Oh, my," said Aunt Edie, sounding worried.
"Call the cops," advised Roger.
"We have to teach him some new words," Celeste said.
"Emerson's a rat. Can you say that, Roger? Emerson's a rat."
Roger shook out his feathers and shut his beak.
"You men all stick together," Celeste muttered.
"Well," Aunt Edie said briskly. "You know where to put your
things. I'll get some lemonade and cookies."
"And I'll call Sabrina," Jenna told Celeste. "She and
Tristan are at the tennis courts with Jennifer and Hudson,
trying to play tennis."
"Don't drag her away. I'll see her soon enough."
"No, she's going to want to see you. Anyway, she'll just
bring the whole gang here. They're all addicted to Aunt
Edie's cookies."
Lemonade, cookies and her family. What more did a girl need?
Sex.
Sigh.
Excerpted from The Summer Retreat by Sheila
Roberts. Copyright © 2019
by Roberts Inc LLC. Published by MIRA Books.
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