A Wedding in Maine

Book 0: BookShots Flames

by Jen McLaughlin, James Patterson

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Comedy; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

The McCullagh Inn is now open for weddings.

Jeremy Holland is exactly what Chelsea O’Kane wants in a man. After he proposes, she’s ecstatic to host their wedding at the inn they built together. But it isn’t long before the secrets from Chelsea’s past refuse to stay buried, and they could ruin everything….

BookShots Flames

• Original romances presented by JAMES PATTERSON
• Novels you can devour in a few hours
• Impossible to stop reading

©2016 Jen McLaughlin (P)2016 Hachette Audio

Release date: January 3, 2017

Publisher: BookShots

Print pages: 160

Sample

Chapter 1

Our newest guests had just finished signing the guest book when I walked down the front staircase. Outside, the bitter cold December night whipped snow and freezing winds against the inn, making it creak and groan, but, inside, we were safe and toasty. Jeremy took a small suitcase from the daughter—a little girl who was six years old and wearing a puffy winter coat—and looked impossibly manly with his new pink accessory. She watched him with wide eyes, clearly enamored of his easy charm.

I couldn’t blame the kid. Jeremy was a bona fide hero. My hero.

This inn, the McCullagh Inn, had been my sanctuary when I had been on the run from an infamous drug cartel a little over a year ago. It was an inheritance from my aunt and had been the perfect place to lie low while men were gunning for me. When Jeremy, a DEA agent at the time, learned I was in trouble, he came riding to my rescue.

Jeremy watched the family go upstairs. He waited for them to reach the top and then leaned in, his mouth a breath away from my ear. “You look absolutely stunning in that top…but I can’t wait to take it off you.”

My stomach tightened at the unspoken promise that deepened his voice. My man knew how to turn on the heat. I rested a hand on his hard biceps. “In that case…meet me in the back in five minutes?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, giving me a look that was hot enough to melt my panties off in the middle of an arctic snowstorm. “To the left, Mr. and Mrs. Walter. I’m right behind you.”

I smiled and waved at them as they rounded the corner, and Jeremy shot me one last heated stare before he was gone. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed the goose bumps away. The Walters were our only arrivals today, so after Jeremy got them settled, it would be time for us to kick back, relax, grab a glass of wine, and just be…well, normal.

Normal was a magical feeling.

After being raised by a father who ran a crime circle in our small town, and then unknowingly marrying a man owned by the cartel…well, normal wasn’t something I had a lot of experience with, but I was willing to learn. And Jeremy was a great tutor.

Smiling, I started my nightly rounds. We were pretty isolated out here in Hudson, with the nearest stores about a twenty-minute drive away. Behind our inn, there was a cliff that overlooked the beach and there was a forest on either side, so you would only know where we were located if you were looking for us. But despite the rural setting, I always made sure all the doors were locked, and all the windows were latched. What can I say? Life had been quiet lately, but old habits die hard. O’Kanes didn’t let their guards down just because things were good. If anything, that makes us more cautious.

We protected what was ours.

Walking past the stairs that led to the guest bedrooms—completely redone by yours truly—I checked the front door. Both its walls and the picture window in the living room were new, since they had to be replaced after the drive-by shooting. Like I said, I now had a strong appreciation for normal.

I covered my mouth as I yawned, moving silently upstairs and down the hallway between the guest rooms, checking the vacant rooms to make sure the windows were closed, lights were out, part of my nightly routine that gave me a few minutes to myself. The inn was doing great. Since the grand opening in March, we had numerous bookings. It was mainly couples on romantic getaways, but the occasional family stayed here as a stop on their road trips, or for a quick run of cross-country skiing. Jeremy and I were discussing the addition of excursions or classes for the upcoming spring, but the Maine winter would hang on for another couple of months, so for now that’s all it was. Talk.

Making my way back downstairs, I made a mental note to tell Holly we had a last minute booking for the Blue Room. Jeremy and I had discovered that neither of us liked cleaning, and that we liked cleaning up after other people even less, so we hired Holly immediately. Her teenage brother, Henry, worked for us after school and during weekends as a bellboy/apprentice handyman. He and Holly were our only actual employees. Otherwise, we’d just call the odd cab when our guests needed transportation.

The inn was hushed when the antique grandfather clock in the living room ticked closer to ten. The living quarters I shared with Jeremy were off the kitchen, so we could grab drinks and food without traipsing through the whole inn. During renovations, Jeremy had the idea to combine two of the smaller rooms together, so we also had one larger room that functioned as a private living/dining room. It gave us plenty of privacy, especially at night when we needed it most.

But the inn was home, and generally, I preferred being out in the open with the guests.

I pushed open the staff-only door that led to the kitchen, noticing that the light was on in our living room. “Jeremy? You in there?”

No answer. Weird.

Shrugging off my sweater, I tossed it on the counter and locked the door behind me. Originally, Jeremy and I had planned to do a more traditional kitchen with white cabinets and granite countertops, but in the end, we went with a restaurant-style kitchen with gleaming stainless steel and professional gadgets. It turns out, I’m quite the cook. It was surprising to learn I could make damn good food from scratch, considering that, while growing up, I mainly ate food that came out of boxes.

Opening the door that separated our living quarters from the kitchen, I sniffed. “You in here? Hey, do I smell General Tso? I hope so. I need some—” I froze mid-sentence—mid-step. Death grip on the knob. Eyes wide. Heart pounding in my chest. Palms sweating. “What the hell are you doing?”

Chapter 2

Jeremy watched Chelsea pale. She looked like she was about to turn and run, and he’d expected nothing less. Chelsea and change weren’t exactly the best of friends, which was why he was trying to keep this moment as low-key as possible. Still, after all the shit they’d dealt with to get where they were now, there was no doubt in his mind that this was the right move for them to make.

It was time to make this thing between them official.

Chelsea subtly turned her head from side to side, and he knew she was mapping out her most efficient exit strategy. When she got scared, her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

His Chelsea? Yeah. She was a runner.

But he wasn’t going to let her disappear. It was time to move on to the next chapter of their lives. The happily ever after part.

“Don’t go. Give me a chance to talk before you react.”

She was holding the doorknob so tightly her knuckles were white, but she wasn’t making a break for it. He called that a win, thank you very damn much. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m on one knee with a tiny little box in my hand, and it just happens to have a diamond ring in it. Don’t read too much into it.” He ran his hand through his hair, giving her his most charming and reassuring smile. “I’m just a guy, kneeling on the floor, who wants the woman he loves to spend the rest of her life with him. No big deal.”

She choked on a laugh. “Not at all.”

That laugh was a good starting point. “Originally, I had a big, romantic proposal in mind. Like, something in a fancy restaurant in Bangor. Maybe with a string quartet, or an opera singer, or something else ridiculously romantic. You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and you deserve the biggest and best of everything in the world, Chels.”

She instinctively shuddered at the idea of an elaborate proposal, and he smiled, because he loved the unapologetic realist beneath those sweetest blue eyes of hers. She looked like an angel, but was tougher than steel. “Jeremy—”

“But I know you hate big, romantic gestures because you tell me they’re too clichéd and a waste of time and money. So I settled on the most unromantic thing I could think . . .