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Kate Logan needs a safe haven, a place to start over after her modeling career disintegrates in scandal. But her hometown of Aspen Lake isn’t the sanctuary she hoped. Her vow of a low-key life is disrupted by a break-in and other strange happenings at her boutique. As the chair of Aspen Lake’s Gothic Revival Festival, she’s also drawn the ire of a religious fanatic. Kate is up to her stilettos in drama and intrigue including one sexy carpenter who’s determined to get in her way. New to town, Seth Stone is seeking inspiration and solitude to concentrate on his art. Short on funds, he agrees to take on a second job restoring the damage to Kate’s Closet. Trouble erupts along with the desire to get to know Kate better. When he’s used as a pawn in a smear campaign against his gorgeous boss Seth fights back. But now the whole town is watching. Including the man determined to further his own agenda. Time is running out with nowhere to hide.
“I’m wrapping up a meeting.” She gestured toward her group. “The Gothic Revival Fair committee.”
He stifled a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Very serious. It’s an annual thing.” She rested a hand on the bar and smoothed another over her hip.
Britt sauntered back into view, dimples gone. She plunked down a little wire basket containing cutlery, napkins, ketchup, mustard, salt and pepper. “Another round, Kate?”
“Thanks, Britt.” Kate spared her a glance then pointed to a poster tacked to the wall. “The fair’s the last weekend of October. This year it’s an Edgar Allen Poe theme. The whole town goes all out with street vendors, readings of the tarot and palm variety, as well as literary ones.”
“‘Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary...’”
“Impressive. You know your Poe.” Kate squirmed closer as a guy squeezed in to give Britt his order.
“The first couple of lines, anyway. I can’t say as anyone’s found that impressive before.” Seth worked at not inhaling her scent, but it wafted out to surround him. Everything hot and sultry, like bazaars, spices, and colorful scarves. Desert heat in September on the Canadian Prairies. Sweat dampened the back of his neck, the palms of his hands. The unexpected reaction had him grabbing for his beer.
“Well.” She gave the bar a pat and straightened up. “See you Thursday.”
She headed back to her table. Hips swaying, curves covered but impossible to hide, and calves accentuated by the killer heels. Her father, his boss, would smite him down for noticing. He hadn’t needed to hear Bill Logan’s “I’m trusting you, boy,” on his way out the door to know it.
So, it was a good thing she wasn’t his type.
“You’ve met our local celebrity.” Britt set his meal down in front of him.
Food, exactly what he needed. He grabbed for the ketchup bottle and lifted the bun off his burger. “Celebrity?”
I grew up on a farm in the middle of Canada's breadbasket. Under the canopy of crisp blue prairie skies I read books. Lots and lots of books. One day the inevitable happened and I knew without question the time was right. What to write was never the issue - romance and the gut wrenching journey towards forever.
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