Summer on Main Street

by Crista McHugh

  Lucas frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  Max’s brow furrowed too.

  Only Finn’s face brightened with understanding. “Are you kidding me? She’s comin’ here?”

  “Who’s coming here?” Max asked.

  Jen swept her arms wide, taking in the beach, the lighthouse, the sky above and the town behind them. “Yes and yes. Not until sometime next year, but you are looking at one of the next featured locations on Small Town Secrets, starring none other than Miss Sophie Smithwaite.”

  Everyone smiled and downed their beers. Ash can have her Paradise, Jen thought as she looked around at her friends. I’ll take my hometown any day of the week. She couldn’t wait to see what the future held.

  Note to Readers:

  Readers, if you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review on the retail site where you purchased it! Also, if you’d like to sign up for my newsletter, you’ll get previews of new releases, along with chances to read and review not-yet-published books. I also give away books and gift certificates on a regular basis to my newsletter subscribers: http://bit.ly/AlliesNews

  Welcome to the Hometown Heroes series!

  It begins with Beacon of Love, Hometown Heroes #1…

  Welcome to Lindsey Point: home of a haunted lighthouse, a 50-year old murder mystery, and a romance about to erupt between travel journalist Sophie Smithwaite and hunky local handyman Lucas Oakes. He wants to protect the town's secrets. She's bent on uncovering them at all costs. As the mystery deepens, sparks fly and legends crumble. Is preserving tradition worth giving up a chance at true love?

  It continues with Inferno of Love, Hometown Heroes #2…

  What happens when your soul mate returns after twelve long years -- and has no idea who you are?

  One teenage summer, Finn and Aubrey fell in love in the tiny coastal town of Lindsey Point. But that was before a local fire turned him into a hero and a horrific accident stole her memory. When they finally reunite years later, sparks fly and memories return -- but so do long-lost secrets and locals who want them to stay buried. Now Finn and Aubrey must come to terms with the past if they have any chance of building a future together...

  And the secrets and emotions deepen in Labyrinth of Love, Hometown Heroes #3…

  Shannon O'Brien wants to forget the past. Chase Reardon will do anything to dig it up.

  This local marketing director and NYC urban planner have almost nothing in common, aside from the fact they’re forced to work together on the redesign of an entire Connecticut town. But as soon as they meet, sparks fly...until an unlikely connection surfaces from a sixty-year-old love story. Suddenly, Shannon and Chase are forced to face the truth about their growing feelings for each other, along with the future of the town and its beloved history. Exposing the truth might give Chase the family roots he's always sought, but at what cost to Lindsey Point and the woman he's falling in love with?

  About the Author

  Allie Boniface is a small-town girl at heart who's traveled around the world and still finds that the magic and the mystery of small towns make them the best places to fall in love and find adventure. From the New England coast to Rocky Mountain hotels to tiny European bars, she's found more character and plot inspirations than she could ever count. Currently, she's lucky enough to live in New York's beautiful Hudson Valley with her own romance hero, her husband who can fix, build, drive, and grill anything and is the epitome of the strong and silent type.

  When she isn't writing love stories, Allie is a full-time high school English teacher who enjoys helping her teenagers negotiate the ups and downs of writing along with the ups and downs of life (because, really, she's still trying to do the same thing!). And while she'll continue to travel far and wide, Allie knows there's really nothing like coming back to the place where the people who have known you welcome you home with open arms.

  Connect with Allie on Facebook, Twitter, or her website or blog. And don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter!

  Lead-Off Bride

  Book 1—Take Me Out to the Wedding

  by

  Rebecca J. Clark

  Chapter One

  Beth Darrow prayed the rumor she’d heard wasn’t true. He couldn’t possibly be back in town. Could he?

  The line to the front gates surged forward, moving her closer and closer to Doomsday. Her abs clenched, her lunch a dead weight in her gut.

  “Mommy, I’m so excited!” Lindsey peered up at her from under the blue Rapids baseball cap. “Do you think I’ll catch a ball?” She held her glove tight to her chest as if worried someone might try to steal it.

  Beth relaxed her death grip on her purse and forced a smile. “You never know. Maybe.”

  “Is it possible, then?”

  Beth smiled, genuinely this time. “Possible” was on this week’s first-grade spelling list. “Yes, honey. It’s possible.”

  “Joey Jacobson said if you catch a ball, you get to meet the players after the game.”

  Beth’s heart twisted at the thought, even though the likelihood was slim.

  “Wow. That would be—” my worst nightmare “really exciting,” she said, keeping her voice light, glad she couldn’t hear her own panic.

  She was probably freaking out about nothing. If Jack really was back in town, wouldn’t the local paper have reported it? Wouldn’t everyone be talking about it on social media? All it took was one misunderstood comment for the rumor mill to fly.

  They reached the gate and Beth handed over their tickets. Lindsey practically jumped out of her sneakers, excitement rippling through her six-year-old body, as they entered Rapids Stadium.

  Despite the ominous gray clouds, a carnival atmosphere engulfed them. Opening Day in Twin Rivers, Washington, was practically a national holiday. The town pulled out all the stops, from an afternoon parade complete with marching bands, floats, and local dignitaries riding in classic cars, to a spectacular fireworks show before the first pitch. People called in sick from work and played hooky from school.

  The pounding bass from a rock band inside the grandstand shook the ground and reverberated through the crowd. This was the third year in a row she and Lindsey had come to Opening Day. Normally, Beth enjoyed the event. Mainly because of Lindsey. Obsessed with baseball, her daughter loved playing it, watching it, talking about it. Posters of her favorite players plastered the walls of her bedroom. The love of the game had to be genetic, but Beth had stopped being a fan years ago. Seven years ago, to be exact.

  She focused on her daughter’s excitement, as Lindsey tugged her toward the concession stand. But Beth couldn’t escape her impending panic, because every line around her involved the same excited conversation, the one she’d been hearing since arriving at the stadium. “I heard Jack-Mack is back.” “Did you hear McCauley is on the roster?” “Jack-Mack might be playing tonight.”

  Oh, God. She didn’t need popcorn, soda, and Dots to get sick to her stomach—her nerves did the job well enough.

  Someone hugged her from behind. Beth turned to see her nineteen-year-old employee, Zoey Weathers. She’d hired Zoey last month to help out at Do-Overs , the second-hand and consignment store she owned with her two sisters.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Zoey gushed. She tugged one of Lindsey’s braids. “Hey, pipsqueak. I like your hat.”

  Lindsey beamed beneath the rim of her ballcap. “Your sunglasses are really pretty. Are those real diamonds?”

  Zoey laughed. “I wish. You wanna wear them?”

  Lindsey bounced up and down in her excitement when Zoey took off the rhinestone-studded glasses and held them out. She slid them onto her face, then grinned a gap-tooth smile at Beth and Zoey.

  Beth couldn’t help laughing. The sunglasses were several sizes too big for Lindsey’s pixie face. Between them and the hat, you couldn’t even recognize her. “They look great on you, sweetie.”

  Lindsey hugged Zoey’s bare legs. “Can I wear them for the whole game?”

  Zoey said, “Sure th
ing. Hey, did you know if you catch a fly ball, you get to meet the players after the game?”

  Oh, God. Here we go again.

  Lindsey hugged the glove to her chest and bounced up and down on her toes. “See, Mommy, see? I told you so.”

  “Who are you here with, Zoey?” Beth asked, not seeing any of Zoey’s friends nearby.

  Zoey motioned behind her. “Kaitlyn’s in the bathroom. She wanted to redo her hair in case we run into some players.” She flipped through the program in her hands and opened it to the middle. She shoved the glossy pages in front of Beth’s face and tapped one of the black and white photos with a chew-tipped fingernail. “Ryan Cooper.”

  Beth lowered the program so her eyes could focus.

  “Could he possibly be any hotter?” Zoey asked, her voice dreamy.

  With his long, wavy blond hair and light-colored eyes, twenty-one-year-old Ryan Cooper looked more like a surfer dude than a starting pitcher for a minor league baseball team. “He is awfully cute.”

  “He’s my future husband.” Zoey giggled and tugged Lindsey’s braid again. “If you catch a ball, I’m going with you, okay?”

  “Okay!” Lindsey grinned, revealing the gap where her two front teeth used to be.

  Beth wanted to tell Zoey that dating a ball player wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but she knew the young woman wouldn’t listen. She hadn’t listened at that age, either.

  Zoey flounced off to find her friend, her straight blond hair swinging across her shoulders. Beth couldn’t help noticing all the male attention directed at her employee, and sighed. Oh, to be nineteen and naïve again, where your biggest dream was to meet a minor league baseball player.

  “Is Miss Zoey really going to marry Ryan Cooper?” Lindsey asked, her sunglasses sliding down her nose. She pushed them back up.

  “No, sweetie. She was joking. She just thinks he’s really cute.”

  Lindsey wrinkled her nose. “Boys are gross.”

  You just keep on thinking that. Beth couldn’t help smiling.

  With treats in hand, she and Lindsey searched for their seats in left field. These weren’t the greatest seats, but Lindsey liked to sit way out here because it was where the homeruns went. They both settled in and dug into the popcorn.

  Beth scanned the field. A local group of young hip hop dancers entertained the fans from centerfield, as players warmed up around them. She squinted at the bullpen on the far side of the field.

  Two pitchers practiced in the long, narrow enclosure. She focused on the catchers receiving the pitches. It was hard to see from this distance, but one clearly had dark skin. She craned her neck for a better look. The other player looked way too tall and skinny, even in his crouching stance.

  So, unless his general build and race had changed, neither of them was Jack. Temporary relief inched through her, and she grabbed another handful of popcorn, actually enjoying the salty snack now that her anxiety had lessened somewhat. The rumor was probably just that—a rumor.

  She swiveled her knees to allow an elderly man to scoot by. He took the seat next to Lindsey. After he’d settled in, his gaze went to the baseball glove in her lap.

  “You must be a big fan, young lady.”

  “I am. Baseball’s my favorite game in the whole world!” She jumped up and down in her seat. Popcorn flipped out of the red and white bag, but she didn’t seem to notice. Beth snatched the bag out of her hands before it all flew away.

  “Did you know if you catch a fly ball, you get to meet the players?” the man asked.

  Beth groaned. Not again.

  The opening ceremonies commenced and the opposing team players were announced to a polite crowd. “And now your Twin Rivers Rapids!” the announcer boomed. The crowd erupted into a frenzy.

  Butterflies danced through Beth’s gut as one by one the announcer introduced the players and they jogged onto the infield. If Jack was on the team, would she even recognize him from this distance? It had been seven years. She hated to acknowledge, even just to herself, that she was excited to see him again. The hormonal part of her wished she’d brought binoculars.

  Seeing him from a distance wouldn’t hurt anything. If the rumor was true. But she could not, would not, see him again in person. Ever. That could be—would be—disastrous.

  “Starting catcher, number six, Jack McCauley!”

  Thud. Beth’s heart slammed into her gut as the crowd roared. The popcorn in her stomach felt like exploding lead pellets.

  “Mommy, Mommy! Did you hear that? Jack-Mack is playing.” Lindsey bounced up and down in her pink sneakers, dual brown braids slapping against her shoulders.

  Beth’s first inclination was to sit down and slump in her seat, but she found her gaze glued to Jack’s athletic form as he jogged onto the field to join his teammates. She remembered that body. From those wide shoulders to those strong, powerful thighs, he looked just as good in his uniform as he did out of it. A flush raced across her skin and heat pooled between her legs with the memories. No! She couldn’t think about him that way. Or any way. He waved to the crowd, at one point looking their direction. Lindsey climbed onto her seat and waved back with six-year-old enthusiasm. Beth couldn’t tear her gaze away, even as the crowd quieted for the Color Guard marching onto the field.

  Her worst nightmare had commenced.

  ***

  Jack McCauley jogged off the field and took his place along the first-base line for the National Anthem.

  “Did you see all the babes in the stands?” Ryan Cooper murmured, cocking his head toward the bleachers. “Maybe this little town ain’t so bad after all.”

  “Keep your mind on the game,” he told the kid. “To be the best, you need to ignore the rest.” God, he sounded just like his dad. How many times had he heard that very line growing up? But heeding that advice had paid off. He wouldn’t forget that. Ever.

  “Trust me, I’ll be the best, but I’ve still got eyes, ya know?”

  “Just stay away from the groupies. Trust me on that.”

  “As my grandma likes to say, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Ryan quipped as they took off their caps and bowed their heads.

  Play was work and work was play in Jack’s book, so the old adage didn’t apply to him.

  As a local high school student belted out the opening strains of the Star Spangled Banner, adrenaline raced through Jack’s veins. This was his first time on the field in almost eight months. He stared down at the Rapids cap in his hands. He would prefer to be wearing his major league team’s insignia, but he was just happy to be playing again. After he’d annihilated his ACL in a brutal slide at home plate early last season, the media had speculated his career was over. But he liked nothing better than proving the media wrong. It had taken many months of agonizing rehab, countless hours in the gym to rebuild his strength. Now he’d been sent back to where his career began seven years ago.

  Twin Rivers wasn’t such a bad place to rehab. He actually had pretty good memories of this town. His first professional homerun. The first runner he threw out stealing second. Some great friendships.

  And one particular redhead.

  Beth Sanders. Bright green eyes. Freckles splattered across her pert little nose. Long, shapely legs. He’d always thought she’d looked like a young Courteney Cox. He grinned at the sexy memories.

  Pain lanced his right knee as if to remind him that his mind wasn’t where it needed to be. His focus must be one-hundred percent on the game. Refusing to give in to the injury or draw any attention to it, he didn’t bother shifting his stance. The mostly on-key anthem reverberated through the open-air stadium, and he wished he’d popped a couple of extra ibuprofen. This cold, damp weather was a bitch on his knee.

  The music surged, the crowd erupted and all the players lifted their caps to the sky, waving at the crowd. This town sure supported its minor league team.

  “We love you, Jack-Mack!” someone screamed from the stands. The crowd roared. Jack tipped his cap and waved. God, he hated th
at nickname. Some bozo analyst on ESPN called him that during his first World Series, and the moniker had stuck. But he supposed a nickname, even a stupid one, was better than none at all. Nicknames were a tradition in baseball, going way back to the days of Babe Ruth, “The Sultan of Swat”.

  “I love you, Jack-Mack,” Ryan echoed in a high-pitched, sing-song voice as they jogged back to the dugout.

  “That’s what she said. Now, get your head on the game, kid. Focus.”

  Shit. If he couldn’t run a few steps without pain, how the hell would he squat behind home plate for nine innings or however long they kept him in?

  He would just do it. He had no choice. Baseball was his life. He needed to forget the pain, the obstacles, the what ifs and if nots. That’s how his dad, the great Ed McCauley, had become a legend in the game. And that’s how Jack would do it, too.

  He’d make it back to the starting lineup in the Bigs if it killed him. Nothing would distract him or get in his way. Not if he could help it.

  ***

  Their seats were in left field, so several fly balls landed in their vicinity. Every time a player hit one high and deep, Lindsey stood up, glove ready, just in case. And even though Beth knew the likelihood of a ball coming exactly their direction was small, her heart stopped beating for a split second, her life as she knew it suspended for just that moment, until the ball landed safely somewhere else.

  So what that Jack was back? The players didn’t have much time for anything other than playing baseball. The team would be out of town more often than not, and when they were in town, they certainly wouldn’t visit her little store. What did a baseball player need in a thrift and consignment shop? Not much. Thank God.