Bella Luna

Book 3: Blue Moon Lake Romance

by Sharon Struth

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Clean & Wholesome Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Her love life has gone to the dogs… Rose Richardson is on the run from her dangerous ex-husband, a crime she didn’t commit—and the embarrassment of being an advice columnist with a disastrous personal life. Donning a fake identity, she escapes to a lovely lake house rental in rural Connecticut…only to discover her refuge is already occupied. Leo Drake is devastatingly handsome–and clearly wants to be alone. Rose stands her ground, even while she fears being found out for the fugitive she is. Plus, her sweet dog, Bella, seems to like the brooding widower, so how bad could he be? A prize winning novelist, Leo lost everything after he lost his wife. But his mysterious housemate just might be the muse he needs to reignite his writing career. Despite his misgivings, Rose has secrets that only draw him closer, firing his imagination, even as his heart struggles with the attraction building between them. Plus, he kind of likes the quirky pooch. And as he tries to untangle his unusual predicament, Bella’s antics just might be the key to showing the loner that love is the only inspiration he needs… Praise for Sharon Struth “Struth has a gift for layering stories within stories while keeping them all connected.” --Library Journal “Struth is an author to watch!” --Laura Drake, author of RITA-award winner The Sweet Spot “Sharon Struth writes a good story about love and loss. She knows her characters and has a path she wants them to take.” -- Eye on Romance “The plot is refreshing and will definitely keep the reader turning page after page." -- Fresh Fiction

Release date: December 6, 2016

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 234

Sample

 

Rose Richardson stared beyond the car’s swishing wiper blades and whispered, “If anybody is up there listening, please send a sign this isn’t the biggest mistake of my life.”

She held her breath, not sure if the request might mistakenly rouse an onslaught of locusts. Nothing happened.

Through the wet windshield, her gaze drifted to the front of Blue Moon Lake Realty. The rural Connecticut real estate office could’ve been a home, based on the green awning over a picture window and potted petunias on the stoop. Weatherworn, salmon-colored paint peeled in places and the awning flap had a slight tear. Only a bright neon sign reading Open hinted to the building’s business purpose.

A sign. Any sign. Nobody walked out and gave her a thumbs-up, even though lights inside indicated someone was there. She glanced around the near-empty parking lot. A breeze blew a candy bar wrapper from the roadside onto the nearby lawn, not exactly sign-worthy.

Guess she’d have to trust her gut on this decision. How long had it been since she’d put her faith in anybody else, anyway? Ten years? Twenty? More like never.

Rose flipped on the inside light and adjusted the rearview mirror to get another peek at herself. A near stranger stared back. Just as she’d planned.

A shuffling noise made her turn around. Bella stretched lengthwise in the Ford Escort, hogging most of the bench seat.

“What do you think of me as a redhead, Bella?”

The five-year-old basset hound yawned.

Rose could only hope others reacted with the same disinterest. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and faced back out the front windshield.

Rain danced on the car’s roof, a dreary end to her two-day journey. The trip started twenty-four hours ago, when she still had shoulder-length dirty-blond hair, and her integrity. Now everything had changed.

Besides applying a hair rinse that left her with copper-red locks, she’d stopped at a Smartcuts in Virginia for a different style. Newly purchased black-framed fashion glasses fit loosely on the bridge of her nose and slipped for the umpteenth time today. She shoved them back up with her index finger. Okay, so they didn’t really work for Clark Kent, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She opened her purse to search for a pack of gum.

Tap, tap, tap.

Rose’s heart startled and she jerked her head toward the window.

“Emma? Emma Morris?” A voluptuous woman with an auburn bob cut and wide green eyes stared back. She wore a navy jacket with the real estate office logo on the lapel.

Rose rolled down the window and crossed her fingers that she passed this first critical test using her made-up identity. “Yes, I’m sorry I’m late.” Her heartbeat pounded wildly, but she forced a smile. “Are you Meg?”

“I am.” Meg held an enormous golf umbrella. “Glad you made it. I’ve been worried.”

“Sorry. Traffic coming out of Boston was bad.” Rose swallowed the lie, glad she’d given the car dealer a little extra cash to give her an old Massachusetts plate he happened to have. Money could buy anything.

“Don’t worry at all, sweetie. Sit tight. Let me grab the house key so you don’t have to come out in this rain.” She hurried back inside.

Rose admired the agent’s A-line skirt. All Rose’s Ann Taylor clothes still hung in her closet back in North Carolina, replaced with items off the clearance rack from the junior’s department at the Roanoke, Virginia Target during her drive north. Her new style said “thirty-eight-year-old woman who wishes she was still eighteen,” not “senator’s wife and nationally known advice columnist.”

Meg exited the shabby ranch home and returned to the car, this time on her cell phone. “Just finish your homework. I’ll be home soon.” She hung up and slipped the phone in her jacket pocket. “Kids. They always call when you’re in the middle of something.”

Rose nodded, but she didn’t understand. Thank God she and John had never had children. With the news that had sent her running from him, her soul felt as uncared for as the house before her. Pain over his actions was a hard stab at her heart, but she lifted her chin in a defiant gesture he’d never see.

Meg handed Rose an envelope. “Everything you need is in here. Two house keys and a signed copy of the lease from Mr. Drake.” She placed a hand on Rose’s arm. “You’re getting a great deal on this place. It’s lakefront. The last tenant took off before the lease ended.” She dropped her voice and glanced around, even though the area was deserted. “Mr. Drake was furious. He likes having someone in the house, you know? Makes him worry less about the place being empty.”

“I don’t blame him. Is it far from here?”

“A stone’s toss away.” Meg grinned.

“Oh, so it’s nearby?”

“A few miles. Follow Lake Shore Drive out of town going toward Southbridge. Go past the Litchfield Hills Vineyard. About two miles beyond that, you’ll turn. Be careful. Potholes are everywhere. It’s been a rough winter, and they still haven’t patched the road. I mean, it’s May! What are they waiting for?” She shook her head. “Oh, it’s rained for the past two days, so hopefully the driveway leading to the estate isn’t flooded. There’s a town map inside the envelope and a booklet with local services and businesses. Anything goes wrong, you call me right away. One of my cards is in there with my cell number. Mr. Drake is a good landlord and handles problems quickly.”

“Thank you, Meg. Hold on.” Rose leaned over to the passenger seat and searched her purse for the envelope holding all her cash. Her lifeline. The only way to remain hidden from the lies of her ex-husband. Her hatred for John swelled, but she held it in check and removed enough to cover rent. “Here you go. For the first month.”

“I’ll print a receipt tomorrow, if it’s okay? The computers are shut off.”

“Sure.”

“Remember, call if you need me.”

Rose waited until Meg disappeared inside the office, then tipped her head against the headrest and blew out a relieved sigh.

Maybe she hadn’t seen a sign, but she’d gone too far to turn back now.

* * * *

After a quick stop at the local market for a few essentials, Rose navigated the dark lake road. In the distance, twinkling lights from houses scattered along the hills sparkled. The ad for her rental house had said it had water views and solitude.

A perfect place to remain invisible. A perfect place to hide.

There were so many layers to John’s dishonesty she didn’t know which one had made her run. Five days ago, their divorce had become final. All she had to do, by the terms of their divorce agreement, was live in the same house and stay silent about their split until the elections were over. A nasty trade on her ex-husband’s part, but a small price to pay to get what she needed from him. Six months of hell, then she’d be home free.

Or so she’d thought.

An approaching car flicked their high beams and Rose lowered hers. She yawned, tired but anxious to reach the private house rental. The call to her college friend Joanne had been a stab in the dark, but she lived up the eastern seaboard in Connecticut, far away from John’s threats and offenses. Joanne had put out her feelers for a rental in a remote area and, within an hour, someone mentioned a quiet house in the northwest corner of the state on a lake. The miracle of social media. Rose would never complain about it being a waste of time again.

The car’s headlights brightened a white sign for the vineyard Meg had mentioned. Rose’s worries lightened and she forged ahead, eventually making a turn. The narrow road twisted like a curious snake between the trees. Every so often she’d pass a driveway, proving civilization did exist.

At a mailbox with the name Drake in black letters on the side, she slowed. A rusted No Trespassing sign had been nailed to a thick tree trunk. She turned in, thankful to arrive.

Gravel crunched beneath her tires. She inched up the incline of a stone-paved driveway centered between thick trees. The Ford Escort hit each bump as if nothing rested between Rose’s rump and the ground. She’d needed to use the bathroom since leaving the real estate office. With each jolt, she paid the price of not stopping sooner.

At a clearing, her headlights illuminated a huge white colonial looming before her, larger than she’d imagined. Pillars marked the sides of a portico entrance and symmetrical darkened windows with black shutters lined the façade. She parked near the walkway, turning off the car and plunging into total darkness.

She turned on the inside light. “We made it, Bella.”

Bella stood, flattened her stubby legs in front of her, and arched her behind high in the air. A good yoga stretch. “I know, girl. It’s been a long drive.”

Rose searched the envelope from Meg and removed a key. She took a deep breath, slipped her purse over her shoulder, and got out. Drizzle misted in the air. Bella hopped out of the back seat and sniffed, her tail high and nose pressed to the ground like a Hoover.

Rose popped the trunk. The light inside glowed, highlighting the darkness of the property. A twig snapped in the nearby woods, making her jump. The tree cluster was thick and ominous, worthy of a Brothers Grimm fairy tale setting. Beyond the house, a clearing in the backyard showed dotted lights from houses across the way—maybe the other side of the lake.

Grabbing her backpack, she decided to take the rest in tomorrow. All she wanted after such a long drive was to eat and go to sleep.

She opened her Target bags, searching for a nightshirt and toothbrush amongst the new items. While she looked, her purse slipped off her shoulder into the trunk and several things fell out. She ignored them to continue her search. The quiet in the secluded yard got creepier by the second. A little chill spiraled up her spine. Hastening her search, she stuffed her findings into her backpack, and replaced the spilled items from her purse. After a quick neatening of the trunk, she slammed it shut.

“Let’s go, Bella.” Bella sniffed a nearby patch of tulips and ignored Rose, who snapped on the leash and gave her a tug.

Using the dim beam of a cheap key-ring flashlight, she followed a slate walkway to the door. It took a minute to work the key, but the lock finally clicked and she pushed the door open.

Her eyes adjusted to the pitch-black entrance. Shadows teased her already jumpy nerves as she dropped her belongings on the floor and patted the wall. It took a few seconds to locate the switches, and she flipped them up.

An overhead light brightened a large foyer facing a staircase and hallway. The inside felt warm, considering Meg had said nobody lived here for the past two months.

She inhaled, catching a familiar scent. Coffee?

Rose shut the door and removed the dog’s leash, dropping it on an old olive-green table with black scrolled decorative swirls, stationed against the foyer wall. Above the table hung a long mirror, a peacock etched in the glass taking up half the space.

Rose studied herself in the reflection, still shocked by the altered image. Circles under her eyes matched the tiredness taking over her body. Sleep had never sounded so good.

Thud!

Rose stopped, tilting her head toward the upstairs.

Thud!

A loud creak sounded from above. Her heartbeat picked up speed. Another creak. Footsteps? A light upstairs flashed on and cut a beam to the staircase wall. Bella’s ears perked at the same moment the slow rise of panic crawled through Rose’s veins.

Move. Move! Only she stood still, frozen in fear as her mind raced with images from vagrants to serial killers.

The dog emitted a guttural growl.

Slow creaks of the floorboards above magnified in the silent house. Rose stretched her trembling hand, snatched the leash off the table, and leaned over, just shy of snapping it on Bella so they could race like hell out the door.

Footsteps pounded. Fast and hard, they hit the staircase. Before she could grab the dog’s collar, Bella bolted.

Owooooo-woo-woo-woo-woo!

Bella’s howl echoed in the silent house. She stopped at the bottom step and stared fearlessly into the face of danger. Terror, however, had cemented Rose’s feet in place.

A dark-haired man reached the bottom, gripping a baseball bat in a ready-to-launch position over his shoulder. “Don’t move!” He stood at the last step, too close for her to make a quick dash out the door.

Rose’s heart pounded against her ribs and her mouth went dry. She raised her hands in the air. “Please. Don’t hurt me!”

The intruder blinked back at her through sleepy eyes. Thick tresses of messy hair jutted from his head. The rugged edges of an unshaven shadow highlighted his tight, angled jaw. Her gaze traveled past his wrinkled, loosely buttoned plaid shirt, his baggy sweatpants, and stopped at his bare feet.

Bella bared her teeth, glaring at him bravely as he towered over the short basset hound. Her nose lifted and she inhaled a sharp breath. Owoooooooooooo! Owooooooooo!

The dog’s war cry got the stranger’s attention for a split second, but he quickly returned his narrowed gaze to Rose. “I don’t know who you are, but you’d better have a damn good reason for breaking into my house.”

* * * *

Leo Drake’s head ached. He couldn’t shake off his disorientation, certain he walked around in some awful dream.

“Your house?” Disbelief showed in the woman’s rich blue eyes as they widened. Her gaze drifted to his arms. “Could you please lower the bat? I didn’t break in. I have a key.” She lifted a key on a plastic ring he didn’t recognize.

Shit. He lowered the bat and took the last step down into the foyer. Goddamn Everett must’ve rented the place again.

She dropped her arms. “Wh-who are you?”

“This is my house. Who are you?”

“Emma. Emma Morris.” She hesitated a brief second then jutted out her chin, her heart-shaped face shifting into a more confident pose. “I have papers showing I’m renting this place.” She lifted a manila envelope off the table near the door. “For at least this month, possibly longer. Are you Everett?”

He clenched his jaw at the mention of his brother’s name. “No. Leo Drake. My brother and I share ownership of the house. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”

Her shoulders slumped. Uncertainty crossed her face as she reached up and tucked one side of her wispy, Lucille Ball–red hair behind her ear, highlighting a faded red stain on her neck near her lobe, perhaps from hair dye.

“Leave?” She shook her head. “No, I can’t.” She straightened her posture and a razor-sharp edge glistened in her determined eyes. “I signed a lease. My options are limited, so we’d better get this straightened out.”

Leo took a step closer to her, his height a good head above hers. She didn’t back away, only stared back with unyielding determination. Moxie when the going got tough always impressed him. A quality Camille had never possessed; his deceased wife had been so afraid of conflict she’d rather pretend to be happy. Even if it meant avoiding health concerns, from her mental health issues that had worsened over time, to allowing a cancer diagnosis to have its way. Further proof he was powerless to save those he loved.

He swept aside the wave of grief and studied the stranger from top to toe. Mickey Mouse struck his trademark kicked-back pose on her chest. Patterned pants lined her legs, looking more like they belonged on a clown or someone still in high school. Not this grown woman, whose age he guessed at over thirty and who spoke with more polish than her bad wardrobe taste would suggest.

She pulled out her cell phone from her windbreaker pocket. “Does Meg know you’re staying here?”

“Who’s Meg?”

“The real estate agent.” She searched through an envelope and removed a business card. “I’m calling her.”

“Well, it’s pointless. Everett shouldn’t have leased this place again.”

She ignored him and dialed. He glanced at the dog, who threatened him with bloodshot eyes and a wagging tail. Some watchdog. He resisted the urge to bend over and pet the cute guy.

Leo lifted his gaze to the uninvited guest. “There’s no way I’m leaving my own house.”

“We’ll see.”

“Listen—” He paused, already forgetting the stranger’s name. “You can’t—”

She turned her back on him. “Hello, Meg…”

A renter. The last thing he needed. Returning to the Northbridge house to get work done had been Leo’s last resort. Both his publisher and agent called him regularly, anxious to know about the book’s progress. The deadline to turn it in neared, an ever-constant source of stress. The lake house stood amongst his favorite writing places. Back here, he expected to find his muse. God knows he couldn’t find it anywhere else.

The return to this house was about more than work, although he’d never tell his brother. A desperate need to be alone ate away at him every day. He needed quiet. Peace. Surroundings completely different than everything he’d shared with Camille, with no reminders that their life together had been taken from him just when it seemed to be getting started.

Rage for his brother pulsed through his veins. Everett had better be armed for a good fight. Since childhood, Everett had won every battle the brothers ever shared. This time, though, Leo wasn’t about to give in.

 

 

 

“Co-owner of the house?” Meg’s fiery glare aimed right at Leo, the strong stance undermined by a T-shirt with World’s Greatest Mom splayed across her ample chest. “Oh, wait. I do remember a joint ownership, only the paperwork said Everett would be handling rental matters.”

Rose stifled a yawn and stood quietly to the foyer’s side to let the real estate agent take control of this mess. The long day had caught up with her during the wait for Meg. Leo Drake had disappeared upstairs during that time, leaving Rose in a formal living room with heavy drapes and antiques. Seated on a golden French provincial sofa made of threadbare but clean fabric, she’d twice almost drifted to sleep. The second the doorbell rang, Leo had returned with his hair brushed and eyes fully awake.

Meg pursed her full lips. “The problem is that Mr. Drake—the other one—never told me things had changed.”

Rose gave the woman credit. She hadn’t blown her cool, delivering all her concerns to him with the same sugar-coated sweetness she’d spoken to Rose with upon her arrival.

Leo shrugged, seemingly undeterred by her persistence “What can I say?” His deep voice carried a soft quality around the edges, but there was no mistaking the smidgeon of arrogance evident in both words and actions. “Everett never was the best communicator. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now and this rental situation—”

“But I’ve always dealt with your brother and have to follow the paperwork unless he says otherwise. You see what I’m saying?” Meg nodded and the edges of her blunt cut moved stiffly.

Leo closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thick fingers. Rose almost felt sorry for him. Almost. She had her own problems, bigger than a sibling miscommunication.

“How’d you get in here, anyway?” Meg narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a key?”

He exhaled, removed his hand, and opened his eyes. “Of course. It’s my house.”

“Hmmm. So how long have you been here?”

“I arrived shortly after the last renter left.” He shifted, discomfort a little too obvious. “I heard the house was vacant and decided to stay. I did tell Everett.”

Rose almost let out a snort. Classic liar body language. How had she missed all the clues in her bastard of an ex-husband?

Meg tilted her head. “How do I even know you’re who you say you are?”

“Oh, dear God.” Leo rubbed his grainy cheek with his palm. “Hold on.” He trudged up the staircase, scowling all the way.

Meg turned to Rose and dropped her voice. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I knew there was another brother besides Everett. They used to come here years ago. But since Mr. Drake Senior died, I haven’t seen hide nor hair from this other son. Then he sneaks in here, unannounced.”

Leo’s footsteps on the old staircase signaled his return. Meg turned his way, her chin lifted high. He stopped in front of her and flipped open a black Hugo Boss wallet, the embossed logo visible on one side. Not a cheap wallet, but based on the size of this house, Rose figured there was family money. While he dealt with Meg, Rose inspected the rest of Leo, from his sweatpants carrying a coffee stain to his wrinkled shirt missing two buttons. A strange contrast to the costly wallet.

“Is a New York state driver’s license enough proof?” Tight lines strained Leo’s eyes, and his strong jawline went stiff.

Meg studied his ID, glancing up at him then back to the license. “I guess it’s you. You need a shave.” Leo raised a brow, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Anywho, I left a message for your brother. He hasn’t called back yet.”

“Fine. We can deal with this tomorrow. There are a few hotels around the lake where she—”

“No way.” Rose stepped forward. The quick escape plan was all she had to hold on to. Fear had pushed her to run and now nipped at her heals like a hungry wolf. “I’m exhausted and not going to a hotel. You seem to forget I signed a lease with your brother.”

He tilted his head, considered her with something she almost deemed compassion for a fraction of second, and then tonelessly mumbled, “And we’re back at square one.”

“You could stay at one.” Rose lifted a brow.

“Instead of my own house?”

She shrugged even though she knew the suggestion was a long shot. “It’s not easy to find a place that’ll take dogs.”

He turned to Meg. “I assume you told this woman the reason we lost the last renter here. Plus, the rumors about the house?”

Rose cleared her throat. “My name is Emma.”

The name still tasted wrong to her lips, even though she’d heard it often during her childhood. Emmaline Rose Holloway, adored child of celebrity parents. A persona that one day had vanished right off the face of the earth.

Leo arched a brow. “Okay, Emma.” He studied her for a moment, eyes squinting as though he possessed the ability to see inside her mind. Slowly, he turned his attention back to Meg. “I hope you’ve been honest with Emma about this place.”

Meg tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. “How do you know what happened? We kept it very quiet.”

“Harry Gallagher next door told me. Seems he and the old tenant were friendly.” Leo gave his full attention to Rose. For the first time since her arrival, a paper-thin smile traced his lips. “I hate to tell you, but you’ve been misled.”

Rose glanced at Meg. “What’s he talking about?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Meg waved her hand through the air. “It’s silly.”

“Not so silly at all. I’m sure if you knew the full story, you’d be happy to stay elsewhere.”

“What is it?” Rose cut a glance between them both. “It can’t be that bad.”

Meg sighed and her shoulders wilted. “Well, the last tenant left because he claimed the house is haunted. I don’t believe it’s true, so I didn’t want to alarm you.”

“Haunted? Like how?”

“Strange noises, flickering lights.” Bella walked up and sniffed at Meg’s stark-white Keds. Meg smiled and patted Bella on top of the head.

Rose’s parents had been screen actors. She’d grown up in the land of make-believe and watched horror movies made from behind the scenes. As a rule, she didn’t believe in such stories and pretty much figured people were scaring themselves with runaway ima. . .