"All hands needed for a wedding in Seashell Harbor!"
Reviewed by Clare O'Beara
Posted July 27, 2023
Romance Small Town | Romance Contemporary
Darla Manning returns in time for a wedding, to a New Jersey town in the third book of the Seashell Harbor romance series, THE SUMMER OF SECOND CHANCES. I previously enjoyed seeing how Tony Cammareri, an ex-sports star, was welcomed home as a hero and patched things up with the loveliest girl in town. Now Tony and his fiancée Hadley decide on a short-notice wedding.
Darla is a thirtysomething divorcee, who has been holding down a college teaching position in California and is the author of a few popular suspense novels, with a deadline looming. She’s also going to attend an annual checkup for the remission of the cancer she survived three years previously. She really doesn’t need to find Nick Cammareri, Tony’s younger brother, asleep on her couch.
For his part, Nick, unlike Tony, didn’t go into either food or football. Nick served time in the family’s construction company and came to love the work, so he’s taking a business degree. As the younger brother of a famous sports player he felt overlooked, and he used to be irresponsible. That’s why Darla divorced him. Nick is determined to show his ex-wife that he has finally grown up, but is she even interested? He decides to support her in any way he can.
I previously read fiction and fact about coping with a cancer situation, and it’s hard. So I am pleased that we meet Darla on the right side of the treatment and recovery. She knows her life is never going to be entirely relaxed, and she has a flashback or a talk with someone going through the same circumstances. This is a great way of dealing with the topic. We see this strong healthy survivor making the right lifestyle choices and encouraging others; she can’t help but be a role model. The fact that Darla is a local author makes it a richer reward for the town. Darla’s pretty determined to go, though; she’s selling her house, when Nick has fully refurbished it and prepped it for the market. There is only one builder so she hadn’t much choice, but I really could not see a contractor who was a total stranger deciding to sleep in a client’s home, so Nick was definitely putting the professional relationship under strain.
The story involves small kids doing all the daft things kids do, and family talks, with older generations involved in all activities. Miranda Liasson wants to show the people she’s featured in the earlier stories. My main misgiving is one I’ve felt about other smalltown tales. Someone is home for a visit, who is successful and happy and determined to go back to work, but everyone just assumes the visitor will drop their life and stay in the town at a greatly reduced salary and status level. Nobody even inquires about their job or friends. THE SUMMER OF SECOND CHANCES is a chance for Nick to make up lost time, and for Darla to learn to live again with freedom from stress. This breezy summer romance wraps up the series nicely.
SUMMARY
Summertime in a small seaside town brings one woman an unexpected second chance with the first man to melt her heart . . .
After spending the last few years beating cancer, author Darla Manning is ready for a fresh start—she’s already got a new teaching position in California for the fall. But first, she has some loose ends to tie up over the summer, like finishing her latest novel and selling her oceanfront home. Darla doesn’t expect her ex-husband, contractor Nick Cammareri, to top her list of unfinished business. He was only supposed to do a few quick renovation jobs around the house, not temporarily move in and stir up feelings she thought were long gone.
While Darla tries to focus on making the most of her last Seashell Harbor summer, she can’t help noticing how much Nick has changed. Her immature-but-seriously-cute high school sweetheart is now a motivated-and-seriously-sexy man who’s earning his MBA and running the family business. Plus, he seems determined to make her remember how—and why—they first fell in love. Darla believed moving on meant moving away, but could her hometown hold the key to a new beginning for her . . . with Nick?
Excerpt“Anyway, your tile’s right in there”—Nick pointed to a pile of boxes—“but we need to talk about the rest of the bathroom.”
Darla glanced around the torn-up room. “I’m a little sad that you’re making it beautiful when I’m about to move out.”
“Then don’t,” flew right of his mouth.
Startled, she jerked up her head. Suddenly the air seemed too still, the space too small. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her he didn’t want her to go. But that would be…ridiculous. Finally, he pushed back from the wall and pointed to the still-standing marble slabs that had surrounded the bathtub.
“Doing this remodel will increase the resale value because everything was dated. And hopefully it will make the house sell more quickly. Besides, it’s too late for regrets. We just have to move forward.” He felt like he was only half talking about the bathroom.
“I’m all for moving forward,” she said. “Tell me what I have to do about picking out the fixtures.”
He handed her the magazine page.
She took a glance at it and then frowned. “This is the photograph I showed you months ago when I asked you about the tile. I told you—I told you I loved this bathroom.”
Whew. Glad she still felt that way or he’d be in trouble. “Yeah. Well, if you’re okay with me going forward, we’re going to get you that bathroom right there.”
Looking incredulous, she shook her head. “I never meant to hint—”
“You didn’t hint. But I could tell you really liked it. I do too.” This was something he could do for her, something he was good at. He really wanted to do it, and he didn’t want her to feel bad. “So…do you trust me?”
“Yes?”
He held his chest like she’d just wounded him. “I’m going to show you what I can do. And it’s going to knock your socks off.”
“I can’t wait to be impressed.” She paused. “Thank you.”
His gaze held hers. And again, he felt like they weren’t really talking about remodeling bathrooms at all. But then maybe it was just a weird day.
Being this close to her was making him remember things. Like a time when, after all this back and forth, she’d be in his arms, laughing and giggling and definitely not getting down to business. Or rather, getting down to a completely different kind of business.
“What’s this?” He pointed to her midarm. He lifted her sleeve a little to reveal a Disney princess Band-Aid.
She glanced down. “Got my blood drawn.”
“You hate needles.” He traced over the Band-Aid with his fingertips before he realized that wasn’t a good idea and dropped his hand.
“Yeah, well, I still do. Only difference is now I can joke about it a little. Hence the Disney Band-Aids.” She tapped her arm. “The lab techs know me too well.”
He tried to think of something funny to say about the cartoon characters, but he was at a loss. “It killed me to watch you go through that cancer,” he blurted instead.
Whoa.Where had that come from? He didn’t really know. The words had just…poured out.
She sucked in a breath, looking completely thrown.
“I’ve never felt so helpless in my life,” he added. Okay, his mouth diarrhea was not stopping, and he had no control.
She stared at him. Swallowed hard. “We were divorced quite a while by then. I didn’t want you hanging around because of pity.”
“You confused pity with caring.” He said it quickly, forcefully, the words fast as the snap of a rubber band.
And…he’d just told her he cared.
It was the most honest moment that had passed between them in years. Which was probably pretty sad. But she noticed too, because her eyes suddenly got watery, but she blinked fast.
“We were best friends for a long time before we were lovers,” he said, not letting this go. “Not being able to be there for you…it was devastating.”
“Why are you…why are you telling me this now?” Her voice was hoarse, choked with emotion.
“Because you’re leaving for good, and if we’re not truthful with each other now, we never will be.”
He realized they were standing amid the rubble, reminiscent of their rubble of a marriage. Too bad relationships couldn’t be remodeled as easily as bathrooms.
“Do you—um—do you think we could be friends again?” she whispered.
“Darla, I never stopped being your friend.” He couldn’t prevent the crack in his voice. Or the quickening of his pulse at the words she’d just said. He could barely stop himself from taking her in his arms.
Who comforted her, he couldn’t help but wonder? Oh, her friends were wonderful, but who held her? Who helped her through this battle she’d probably never really stop fighting, in one way or another?
He wanted to. He wished he could.
He took a step closer. Her eyes were round and wide, and in them, with her defenses lowered, he finally saw the same woman he knew from so long ago. And that made him giddy with relief. Did she remember the good times before the divorce, before the mistakes and the miscommunication, like he did? The tenderness in her eyes told him she might. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, driven by some force he could not control, to place a kiss on her pretty, full mouth.
Her lips were soft and warm, and she gave a little gasp on contact, but she didn’t pull away, and that gave him hope that she was feeling the same wild, short-circuiting connection that he was.
He’d just brought his hands up to hold her, to kiss her more thoroughly, to take her in his arms for real, when someone called Darla’s name. She stepped back quickly and cleared her throat. And he stood there, dazed, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
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