Published by Starfell Press
Starlight Inn Book Two
Novel Dreams
Copyright 2021 @ Jessica Anne Renwick. All rights reserved.
Contact the author at www.jessicarenwickauthor.com
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ISBN (paperback) 978-1-989854-08-2
ISBN (Kindle eBook) 978-1-989854-09-9
ISBN (other eBook) 978-1-989854-10-5
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Cover design by Ana Grigoriu-Voicu
Edited by Talena Winters
Formatting by Red Umbrella Graphic Designs
Proofread by Erin Dyrland
Author Photo © Bonny-Lynn Marchment. Used by permission.
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Printed in the United States of America, or the country of purchase.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
More by Jessica Anne Renwick
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Thank you
About the Author
More by Jessica Anne Renwick
THE STARLIGHT INN
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Harvest Wishes
Novel Dreams
Holiday Hopes
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Pumpkin Promises
For my loving partner who makes sure my cup is always filled with tea through my late-night sessions, and who has believed in my writing since day one. Thank you. Your support means the world to me.
Chapter One
Anna Simone ran her fingers over the hardcover spines in the urban fantasy section of her favourite bookshop, Steeped in Books, reading the author names. Santana. Sencha. She paused, hovering her hand over Sevoy and Sipowitz.
Right here. This is where it would have been. If she squinted, she could almost see her name. If only Raven Stone Press hadn’t gone bankrupt, dissolving her contract in the process.
She loosened the wool scarf around her neck, then tore her gaze from the shelf and moved to the women’s fiction section next to it. She’d been trying to make the best of the situation, hoping her agent could find a new deal for The Wicked Moon. But Clarissa had warned her that a cancelled manuscript in a waning genre would be tough to sell again.
The smell of patchouli wafted over her from the incense diffuser by the front door. The earthy tones soothed her, reminding her that a bookshop was still her favourite place in the world, even if it didn’t hold space for her work. A place to get lost in the smell of books, with the shiny covers depicting magical priestesses or regency lovers or cozy small towns. The promise of new worlds—ones where the main character inevitably wins and the endings are always happy.
An outfacing novel with a woman in hiking gear on the cover caught Anna’s eye. She pushed her glasses up her nose, then picked it up for a closer look. The hiker wore a backpack even larger than her torso, and the blurb stated she was on the Inca Trail in the Andes mountains.
Maybe that’s what I need. A solo trip. Something to reset my life. She clutched the book to her chest, thinking of her dwindling savings account. But with what money?
After moving to Cedar Lake, British Columbia from Calgary, Alberta in July, she’d taken a part-time job helping out in the kitchen at the Starlight Inn. That had been her plan—to work casually and spend the rest of her time writing. And of course, to live closer to Jace. But now it was early November, and she’d lost the book deal that would afford for her to do that and the boyfriend who’d persuaded her to move there in the first place.
Anna made her way to the front desk, stepping around a couple browsing the science fiction section, and nodded at the clerk. She’d grown to know the staff here over the last few months. They had even planned to host a book launch party for The Wicked Moon—another loss that Anna hadn’t expected to hurt so much.
The clerk, Laura, pushed the blond bangs of her chic pixie cut from her forehead and greeted Anna at the till. “Hey. Did you cut your hair?”
Anna tugged self-consciously at a black tress that came just below her chin. She’d needed a change, and cutting off seven inches of hair had been both alarming and freeing. “Thanks. It feels weird, like my neck and shoulders are naked. But I’ll get used to it.”
“I like it. Shows off your beautiful brown eyes.” Laura held out her hand. “Find what you’re looking for?”
Anna handed her the book. “This one’s an impulse buy. You’ve got to stop ordering so many great titles. I can’t help myself.”
Laura flipped the book over and read the back. “One woman’s journey from rock bottom to the peak of Huayna Picchu. Thinking of going on a trip?”
“I wish,” Anna replied. “For now, I better stick to the trail around Cedar Lake. I’m in no shape to climb any mountains.”
“I think you could do it. Monty would motivate you,” Laura said, referring to Anna’s dog.
Anna shook her head, suppressing a laugh. “I’d have to carry him up. We make a good team, wandering through the woods as slow as turtles.” She had recently adopted the lovable retriever-mix from the local animal shelter, Pawsitive Match. Though his most active years had passed, the old dog had stolen her heart the moment she’d met him.
Laura squinted at the book’s price and tapped the numbers into the antique, metal cash register. Anna had no idea how the clackety old machine could be reliable. But it was part of Steeped in Books’s charm, along with the smell of herbs, the disorganized shelves, and the baskets of loose-leaf tea behind the till. Everything about the shop was whimsical and fun—exactly like its owner, Christine Walsh.
Laura tapped a button on the machine, and the cash drawer sprang open with a clang. “That’ll be twenty ninety-eight.”
Anna tried to hide her wince as she pulled her debit card from her bag. Laura took it from her and shoved the cash drawer closed with her hip.
It’s just twenty bucks. I’ll hit the library next time. Or read one of the dozens of stories on my eReader. Anna took the book from Laura and stuffed it in her tote bag. “Thanks.”
“Come back any time.” Laura pointed to a flyer taped to the top of the counter. The image of a book with a red bow tied around it stood out in the middle of the paper. “In fact, you should come by our book club meeting this Friday. We’re picking a Christmas novel to read. Joanne Peters is vying for a classic like A Christmas Carol.” She glanced around the room, as if Joanne might be hiding behind a bookcase, then leaned forward and whispered, “I anonymously suggested A Merry Murder, that new mystery. We do a boring classic every year.”
A knot formed in Anna’s stomach. She’d been scheduled to read an excerpt of The Wicked Moon for the club this winter. The last thing she wanted to do was join as a reader, at least until the sting of her loss resided. Her face grew warm at the thought of the stares she’d receive walking through the door.
Twenty-six years old and already the town’s failed author—knocked from her precarious pedestal. I bet everybody in the book club is talking about it.
“Umm, I’m not sure. Maybe. That mystery sounds good, though.”
Laura gave her a sympathetic look. “Think about it. It’s a lot of fun, e
ven with the constant bickering over what to read.”
The curtains behind the counter swept open. Christine rushed out with the plum-coloured fabric of her gauzy dress flowing behind her. Her copper-coloured waves—interspersed with natural grey—nearly reached her waist. “Anna, I thought I heard your voice! I have this new tea for you to try. It’s from a local company, they blend everything right here in the Fraser Valley.”
She grabbed a basket from the shelf behind her and set it on the counter, then pulled a paper bag from a drawer beneath the till and began to fill it with pungent dried leaves. “It’s a green variety, mixed with white peony and rose petals. I tried it last night. It’s lovely.”
Anna tugged on the strap of her tote bag. “Oh, Christine—”
“It’s on me.” Christine passed her the paper bag, now bursting with fresh loose-leaf tea. “When I took my first sip, I immediately thought of you. Notes of soft florals and delicate jasmine. Warm like a spring breeze.”
Anna tucked a choppy lock behind her ear and adjusted the arms of her glasses. That did sound good. How did Christine know that green tea was her favourite? “Well, thank you. You really don’t have to.”
Christine rounded the front desk and shoved the tea into Anna’s bag.
Laura tapped her fingers on the till, a wry smile on her face. “I don’t think you have a choice.”
“You deserve it, dear.” Christine squeezed Anna’s arm affectionately. “Please, let me know how you like it.” She paused. “Anna, you’re still part of the Steeped in Books family. And when your agent finds your story a new home, we will throw you the biggest party you can imagine.”
Anna swallowed, touched by the woman’s kindness. “Thank you. That means a lot. I’ll keep you updated.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she fought the urge to bolt from the store. “I should really get going. Monty needs to be let out. Thanks for the tea.”
“Any time, dear.”
“Hope to see you soon,” Laura added.
Anna gave them an awkward wave, then walked stiffly to the entrance and pushed through the door. A blast of cold autumn air hit her face, and she pulled her scarf over her cheeks. From the look of the dark clouds above, rain was on the way. Soon.
“Anna!” A familiar voice called from behind her.
She turned around. Sophie, Christine’s daughter and the head chef at the Starlight Inn, stood beside her grey Civic parked in front of the bookshop. She closed the driver’s side door and joined Anna on the sidewalk.
“Cold, isn’t it?” She tugged at the collar of her wool peacoat, then hugged her elbows. “It’s like Halloween ended and winter blew right in.”
“I almost froze on my walk with Monty this afternoon.” Anna shivered and balled her cold fingers. “Heading inside to see your mom?”
“Yes. She’s got some tea she wants me to serve at work,” Sophie replied. “It’s only earl grey, but she insists it’s special for some reason. The hints of bergamot perfectly match the inn’s vibe—or something like that.”
“Ah. She just gave me some green jasmine that reminded her of me.”
“Of course, she did,” Sophie replied with a knowing smile. She shifted her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Anyways, I’m glad I caught you. I was going to call you tonight. Are you looking for more work hours?”
“Yes!” Anna bit the inside of her lip, trying to dial back her eager tone. “I mean, I have lots of time now. Did Katie take on another event?” Their boss, Katie Hoffman, had been working hard to expand the inn’s potential over the last year. Between weddings, festivals, and hay rides, the Starlight Inn had become a cornerstone of the community.
“How did you guess?” Sophie tilted her head, her green eyes bright with humour. “The Cedar Lake Christmas tree lighting is in a few weeks, the last Saturday of November. They want to make it a big event this year and have a dance afterwards.”
“And we’re hosting it?” Anna asked. “Are we renting a tent like we did for the Fowler-MacKenzie wedding?” Other than a handful of quaint cabins and the stable behind the Victorian-style inn, the only other building was a ramshackle barn in one of the horse pastures. Anna assumed it had last been used decades ago, probably for milking cows.
A cold wind whirled around them, blowing a mass of Sophie’s copper-coloured waves over her face. She swiped it aside with a gloved hand. “No, the old barn. We’re fixing it up—finally! Think of the weddings we can hold there next summer.” She clasped her hands. “Katie needs people to clean and set everything up. You’d be paid your usual wage, plus any overtime.”
“I’m in,” Anna replied. Sweeping and dusting weren’t exactly in her repertoire, but how hard could it be? And the extra money would give her more time to figure out what she was going to do. “You know, I’ve never been to an old-fashioned barn dance before.”
“After seeing the wedding Katie planned, I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful,” Sophie said with a note of yearning in her voice. “Twinkle lights, flowers, a live band . . .” Another whip of icy wind hit them, and she shuddered. “I better get inside before we blow away. I’ll let Katie know you’re on board. Maybe come in a bit early tomorrow to talk to her?”
“Sure thing.” Anna nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
With a tinkling of chimes, Sophie rushed inside the store.
Sophie and Christine, they’re both so good to me. The two women had gone out of their way to welcome Anna to the community. Between Steeped in Books and the Starlight Inn, she’d made better friends here than she’d ever had in Calgary.
Despite her mother pushing her to move home, she wanted to stay. She’d grown to love this town in the Fraser Valley of British Columbia. The lush trees and mountain lakes, the fields of sunflowers in September, and the dappled horses at the inn—they felt like home. The quiet setting was the perfect place for her creative spirit. Much better than the bustling urban centre of Calgary.
She ducked against the wind and crossed the street to the Blooming Box floral shop. Arrangements of bright orange and red flowers filled the store’s front window. Anna gazed at them wistfully, then opened the door on the edge of the building and trotted up the stairs to her one-bedroom apartment. Monty greeted her at the entrance, with his tongue lolled to the side and his shaggy tail a flurry of wags.
“Hey, buddy.” She cradled his face and kissed his nose, then hung her tote bag on the hook next to the door. “Need out before it rains?”
He bounced on his front legs in reply, and she grabbed his leash from the coat hook and snapped it to his collar. She glanced at the looming, grey clouds through her living room window, then patted Monty’s head.
“Maybe things will work out. I’ve got friends here. And I’ve got you.” The patter of rain sounded on the roof. Anna guided the dog into the hallway, her mind turning to her manuscript. I’ll go back through Clarissa’s notes. Now that I have a bit more time to figure out my money situation, I can focus on rewriting that story to fit what publishers are looking for now. I got a deal before. I can do it again. Her stomach squeezed. Right?
Monty let out a whine and tugged at the leash. Anna snapped back to reality, locked her door, and allowed the dog to lead her toward the stairs.
“We’ll have some more late-night writing sessions, buddy,” she told him. Like when I first wrote The Wicked Moon, squeezing in every second I could around my work hours back at the restaurant in Calgary. “If I work hard enough, I can fix this. Everything will be okay.”
Chapter Two
Matthew Talbot heaved a box of red potatoes into the back of his brother’s truck and settled it against the side. Rain drummed on the roof of the old shop, and a gust of cold rushed in from the open overhead door. He zipped up the canvas jacket he’d borrowed from Marshal, then grabbed the pen from the clipboard resting on the tailgate and checked off the potatoes.
“This isn’t so bad,” he tried to convince himself. A little physical labour never hurt anybody. And it beats sitting inside, staring at an
empty email inbox and willing editing clients to show up. Right?
The thought of his old job made his stomach knot. Only a few months ago he’d been on top of the world—a great apartment in Toronto, a junior editing gig at a small publishing house, a girlfriend who looked like a supermodel and worked for the same publisher. Then out of the blue, the company’s CEO announced the publishing house was closing its doors—immediately. Two days after Brittany had ended things with him.
Matthew scowled and grabbed his travel mug from next to the checklist, then sat on the tailgate to take a drink of hot coffee. Now here I am, back in Cedar Lake, digging turnips for my older brother. He wasn’t sure where to go next. Editing jobs were few and far between, and while he was grateful for a decent severance package, it hadn’t been enough to afford his rent in Toronto for long. So, he went home to Cedar Lake to figure out his life. Stuck living with Marshal and trying to scrounge up freelance editing gigs.
Wind whistled through the trees outside. Matthew shivered, then took a satisfying swig of dark roast goodness. It’s only temporary. I’ll figure something out. He always did. And for the most part, living with Marshal had been fun. It was almost like they were teens again, watching sports and playing video games together. When he isn’t stressing over this flipping farm, that is.
Marshal marched into the shop, water dripping from his ball cap, and shot Matthew a look. “Got the yellow onions loaded yet?”
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