Dear Reader,
The Maine coast is probably my favorite place on earth. The way the air smells, the huge ocean tides, the rugged rocky shores and thrilling wildlife—it always inspires me. And while I’ve never fallen in love there, it seems to me one of the most romantic places around.
My heroine, Addie Sewell, finds it romantic, too, when she attends the island wedding of a good friend. A creature of habit and routine, she is determined to get out of her rut by seducing an old crush. Instead, she is blasted out of her comfort zone by her first sight of sexy charter yacht captain Derek Bates, whose life spent wandering from port to port is about the last thing she could ever stomach.
I hope you enjoy reading about Addie’s “wrong bed” adventures as she gets a whole lot more excitement than she expected…and maybe more than she can handle.
Cheers,
Isabel Sharpe
www.isabelsharpe.com
1
THE SOUND OF the ocean swelled through Addie Sewell’s bedroom. She stirred in the soft cotton sheets and listened, picturing waves tumbling, sea foam forming lacy patterns that rushed in, then retreated across soft white sand. Somewhere far off a seagull called.
Addie groaned and threw off the covers on her twin bed. “Alarm off.”
The ocean stopped. Or rather, the ocean sound stopped, made by her talking alarm clock, which she’d affectionately nicknamed Tick. The real ocean would have to wait until the following week, when she flew north to attend her friend Paul Bosson’s wedding on his family’s island in Maine.
She should be looking forward to this vacation a lot more. Been a while since she’d been anywhere except her parents’ new house in Florida, and it would be great to see high school friends again. But honestly, she could use the time better staying home and going through boxes of old family photos and papers her great-aunt Grace had left behind, and to get serious about looking for a condo.
By living with her elderly aunt for two years before Grace’s death, Addie had inherited this rent-controlled apartment a block from Central Park on Manhattan’s E. 97th Street. With her actuary’s salary, she’d saved enough for a down payment on the right condo. She just couldn’t seem to find time or enthusiasm for the search.
To be honest, she was not a big fan of life changes, and the apartment was not only in a great location, but held lovely memories of Great-Aunt Grace.
Yawning, she stretched and blinked blearily at the freshly painted ceiling, a nice change from the crackling that had progressed for years. Desperate pleas to the landlord had finally been answered.