by Irene Hannon
“I’m dead serious.”
“You’re also delusional. I wouldn’t lift a finger on your behalf if my life depended on it.”
A muscle twitched in the other man’s cheek. “Too bad. Refusing isn’t an option. But once you give me the help I need, you’ll never see me again. Guaranteed.”
“Forgive me if I have trust issues.” He made no attempt to hide his sarcasm. “As for that option crack—you can’t force me to help you. I want no part of your problems. If you’ve dug yourself into another hole, you can dig yourself out.”
“That’s what I’m doing. It’s why I’m here.” He finished off his soda and set the can on the counter. “To tell you the truth, I’d rather not involve you. It’s too messy. But there’s no other way.”
“You are delusional.” Matt planted his palms on the counter and leaned toward the man who was fouling the air in his house. “Read my lips. I said forget it. Now get out of here.”
As a shudder of thunder rumbled through the walls, the lights flickered. Steadied.
His visitor regarded him, an odd mixture of emotions in his eyes. At last he stood. “Sorry, Matt. You are going to help me. Here’s why.”
With the pizza cooling between them and the aroma of spicy tomato sauce turning his stomach, Matt listened in growing horror as the man he’d never wanted to see again played his trump card.
And as the seconds ticked by . . . as Matt stared across the counter at this specter from his past . . . as the rain pounded against the roof and the wind howled . . . one thing became terrifyingly clear.
The new life he’d created was over.
One Week Later
At the peal of the doorbell, Trish Bailey looked up from the lesson plan she was preparing.
“Matt’s here.” Her mother adjusted the afghan thrown over her legs.
“Punctual, as usual.”
“One of his many virtues.”
Here we go again.
Expelling a breath, Trish set her paperwork on the sofa beside her and stood. “Do you want to meet with him in the kitchen?”
“Yes. He’s handsome too.”
Best to ignore that as well.
She moved toward the door, stopping to rest a hand on her mom’s shoulder as she passed the wheelchair. “Can I get you anything while I’m up?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Hardly. But Eileen Coulter had never been a complainer—before the car accident two years ago, or since.
She gave her mother’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
“After we finish, nap for me. Matt might stay for cake.”
Although the words were stroke-garbled, the meaning was clear. Her mom wanted her to stop mourning and start living again—a message the older woman had been communicating with increasing frequency over the past few weeks.
“We’ll see.”
“Means no.”
“It means maybe.” Without giving her mother an opportunity to press the issue, she crossed the living room to the foyer. Her parents’ accountant was nice . . . and she’d enjoyed the lunch he’d suggested a couple of weeks ago . . . but she was in no hurry to dip her toes back into romance.
Besides, much as she liked Matt, there was zero zing. Not like there’d been with John from the first moment they’d met.
But perhaps that kind of instant attraction, that immediate feeling of simpatico, only came along once in a lifetime.
The bell rang again, and she picked up her pace—and propped up her spirits. She wasn’t going to sink back into the morass of self-pity she’d languished in for the first few months after the accident. If her mother, who’d suffered far more, could carry on with a cheery spirit, she would too.
Trish straightened her shoulders, tugged the hem of her tunic down over her leggings, and summoned up a smile of welcome.
But as she pulled open the door, her mouth flattened.
Mercy!
The tall, sandy-haired man on the other side had a stitched gash on his temple, a purple-hued bruise on his forehead, and one wrist encased in a removable brace.
“Matt! What on earth happened?”
Thank you so much for visiting Hope Harbor—where hearts heal . . . and love blooms.
When I wrote the first Hope Harbor book several years ago, I fell in love with this charming town on the Oregon coast—and I hoped readers would too. I’m very happy . . . and grateful . . . to say my wish came true.
Which means there are more Hope Harbor books ahead!
As I wrap up this novel, there are a number of people I need to thank.
My husband, Tom, for his endless support in too many ways to list here without adding multiple pages to this book.
My parents, James and Dorothy Hannon, my original cheering section. I lost my mom very suddenly last August (just seven weeks ago as I write this)—but she is never far from my heart. And I like to believe she’s cheering me on still from heaven.
My publishing partners at Revell, who have become friends as well as business colleagues. I am blessed to work with you.
And finally, all the readers whose support has allowed me to tell stories for a living. I ask the Lord to bless each of you every single day.
If you enjoyed Sandpiper Cove, I invite you to return next spring for another visit to Hope Harbor in Pelican Point, when an endangered lighthouse leads to hope—and love—for two very special couples. And if you like suspense, please watch for Dangerous Illusions, Book 1 in my Code of Honor series, coming in October.
Irene Hannon is a bestselling, award-winning author who took the publishing world by storm at the tender age of ten with a sparkling piece of fiction that received national attention.
Okay . . . maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But she was one of the honorees in a complete-the-story contest conducted by a national children’s magazine. And she likes to think of that as her “official” fiction-writing debut!
Since then, she has written more than fifty contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels. Irene is a seven-time finalist and three-time winner of the RITA award—the “Oscar” of romance fiction—from Romance Writers of America. She is also a member of that organization’s elite Hall of Fame. Her books have been honored with a National Readers’ Choice award, three HOLT medallions, a Daphne du Maurier award, a Retailers’ Choice award, two Booksellers’ Best awards, two Carol awards, and two Reviewers’ Choice awards from RT Book Reviews magazine. That magazine has also honored her with a Career Achievement award for her entire body of work. In addition, she is a two-time Christy award finalist.
Irene, who holds a BA in psychology and an MA in journalism, juggled two careers for many years until she gave up her executive corporate communications position with a Fortune 500 company to write full-time. She is happy to say she has no regrets! As she points out, leaving behind the rush-hour commute, corporate politics, and a relentless BlackBerry that never slept was no sacrifice.
A trained vocalist, Irene has sung the leading role in numerous community theater productions and is also a soloist at her church.
When not otherwise occupied, she and her husband enjoy traveling, Saturday mornings at their favorite coffee shop, and spending time with family. They make their home in Missouri.
To learn more about Irene and her books, visit www.irenehannon.com. She is also active on Facebook and Twitter.
Books by Irene Hannon
HEROES OF QUANTICO
Against All Odds
An Eye for an Eye
In Harm’s Way
GUARDIANS OF JUSTICE
Fatal Judgment
Deadly Pursuit
Lethal Legacy
PRIVATE JUSTICE
Vanished
Trapped
Deceived
MEN OF VALOR
Buried Secrets
Thin Ice
Tangled Webs
That Certain Summer
One Perfect Spring
Hope Harbor
Sea Rose Lan
e
Sandpiper Cove
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