Beckett’s recovery had been long, but those months had solidified how much we meant to each other. And we had both come to accept that our lives would never be simple. They’d never be easy. But we’d embrace every single moment.
Because he had shown me that I couldn’t measure my life in increments. That I had to look at the big picture.
And for me, that was Beckett Kingsley.
“Stand up, will ya?” I told him. He got to his feet and he took my left hand, slipping a beautiful diamond ring onto my finger.
“Is that a yes? Because I’ve already put the ring on and I’m not taking it off.”
I felt my butterflies fluttering wildly inside me. Taking flight.
Taking me home.
Beckett had quit his job as a sales manager and had taken a full-time position with the local paper as a staff photographer. We planned to buy a vacation house by the ocean so Beck could have his beach and take his pictures and I could still have my studio.
I had moved in with him only weeks after he had been discharged from the hospital. It couldn’t happen soon enough for either of us. Mr. Bingley hadn’t been particularly thrilled with the change in environment and had taken to shredding Beck’s socks. Beckett was still learning to deal with my cat taking over our bed and using his underwear drawer as a napping spot.
But we compromised. We met halfway. We were navigating the waters of our less-than-conventional relationship in the only way that we could.
Together.
I looked up into the face of the man I loved and almost lost, knowing that he had always been right.
I couldn’t go through life always looking toward the end.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I had to be happy with the right now.
The butterflies in my chest took flight. No longer scary, terrifying things, now they only reminded me that I had everything to live for.
Beckett took my face between his hands and gently pressed his lips to mine. I loved the taste of him.
It tasted like a future.
“I love you,” I told him.
“I love you, Corin,” he whispered. He kissed me. The best kind of kiss. Full of promises that would be kept. “So what do you say? Will you marry me?”
With eyes dancing I gave him the only answer I could.
The answer we had both been waiting for.
“Sure.”
For my mom. You taught me to embrace every moment. I love you.
Acknowledgments
I love this part. Saying thank you.
To Ian and Gwyn, your support makes this journey possible. You are my life.
To Kristy, my PA and dear, dear friend, your support means more than I could ever say.
To Michelle, agent extraordinaire, thank you for all the things you do. This ride has been so much smoother having you there.
To Sue, my amazing editor at Loveswept, thank you for taking a chance on Corin and Beckett. Your input has been invaluable in making this story what it is. And to all the fantastic people at Random House, thank you for everything!
To my girls, my awesome critique group—Amy, Tonya, Claire, Stacey, Kelsie, and Brittainy—you rock my world! I love each of you so darn much!
To all the bloggers who have supported me, who have spread the word, who have shared my stories, I couldn’t do this without you!
And most important, to my readers, thank you for taking this journey with me. You are why I write these stories.
BY A. MEREDITH WALTERS
Find You in the Dark
Light in the Shadows
Bad Rep
Perfect Regret
Seductive Chaos
Desperate Chances
Lead Me Not
Follow Me Back
Reclaiming the Sand
Chasing the Tide
The Contradiction of Solitude
The Missing Volumes I–III
Butterfly Dreams
About the Author
A. MEREDITH WALTERS is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of new adult and contemporary romance novels, including Bad Rep, Reclaiming the Sand, the Twisted Love series, and the Find You in the Dark series. Before becoming a full-time writer, she worked as a counselor for troubled and abused children and teens. She currently lives in England with her husband and daughter. You can find out more about Meredith and her books by visiting her website and following her on Facebook and Twitter.
ameredithwalters.com
@authoramwalters
The Editor’s Corner
Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November…wait, it is November, and Loveswept is releasing some of our best books of the year! Check out these fabulous romances:
New York Times bestselling author Marquita Valentine releases her second new novel in her Boys of the South spin-off series Take the Fall series with When We Fall, in which a small-town sweetheart takes a chance on the bad boy who’s always been her hottest fantasy. Another Loveswept New York Times bestselling author, Tracy Wolff introduces her new Hotwired series with Accelerate, where an unassuming passenger is taken for the ride of her life. New York Times bestselling author A. Meredith Walters releases a powerful romance akin to The Fault in Our Stars with Butterfly Dreams. Then, welcome to Thistle Bend! A charming series debut from Tracy March, Should’ve Said No introduces a small town where old secrets are revealed—and wounded hearts are opened to new love. And in a short novel, Rebecca Rogers Maher’s Rolling in the Deep, two kindred spirits share a winning lottery ticket—and discover what it really means to get lucky.
Sports fans were introduced last month to the Aces Hockey series by Kelly Jamieson with Major Misconduct, and this month Kelly releases a holiday romance, Off Limits. Book two in the Recovered Innocence series by Beth Yarnall features a San Diego investigative team with a soft spot for lost causes and a passion for redemption in Vindicate. And Taking It Off, by USA Today bestselling author Claire Kent introduces you to Matt Stokes, the sexy-as-sin male stripper and club owner who knows what it really means to bare everything. Jessica Lemmon’s irresistible Lost Boys series kicks off with Fighting for Devlin the story of a good girl who plays by the rules—and the bad boy who brings out her wild side. And in Cecy Robson’s O’Brien Family series debut, two total opposites find that the flames of desire are still smoldering in Once Kissed.
For historical romance fans, Sharon Cullen’s The Reluctant Duchess ignites as a shy country girl and a hotheaded duke surrender to dangerous temptations. Then it’s on to Scotland for USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Haymore’s Highland Knights and the first book in this new series, Highland Heat, an electrifying tale of class warfare, fierce loyalties, and forbidden love.
I don’t want this month to end! But the good news is December is upon us with more fabulous Loveswept titles. Until then…
Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Read on for an excerpt from
Should’ve Said No
A Thistle Bend Novel
by Tracy March
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
After three days of sunup to sundown driving in a wobbly U-Haul truck, Lindsey Simms worried that her hands might be permanently stuck in the ten-and-two position. She’d had no idea what she was getting into when she started this road trip. A year of unemployment had led to lots of changes in her life, but this one was the craziest by far: 1,839 miles, to be exact.
Heavyhearted, she’d left her big-city life in D.C. in the rearview mirror just two weeks after she was offered a job in Thistle Bend, Colorado—population 1,519. Now she’d finally arrived, the truck packed with everything she owned, small-town life straight ahead.
Welcome to Thistle Bend, Wildflower Capital of Colorado.
Lindsey gazed at the sign next to the two-lane road, fighting the emotion welling in her throat. The view might be spectacular—soaring peaks and rolling ranch land surrounding a t
iny town nestled in the valley—but nearly everyone and everything she knew were more than a thousand miles away. How could she possibly be happy here?
At least there’ll be wildflowers.
And a paycheck.
She gripped the wheel of the U-Haul as if she were still trying to keep it on the road through the narrow, winding mountain passes. She’d never driven anything bigger than her grandma’s 1970 Cadillac DeVille convertible, the car she’d gotten around in during her high school days in Richmond, Virginia. The memory tugged at the corners of her mouth, coaxing a winsome smile. Spending summers with the top down had brightened her long blond hair with sun-kissed highlights, and kept her slender arms tan. Her mom had always said that Lindsey’s eyes got two shades greener in the summertime.
Lindsey had left the Cadillac behind when she headed for college in D.C., then landed a job at the Smithsonian and lived in the city—no car required. Thank goodness she hadn’t had that kind of debt hanging over her when she got laid off a year ago. Even so, her slim savings account had dwindled too fast, and she’d found out who her real friends were when she couldn’t afford to go out anymore.
She squinted at the sky, the sunset painting blazing streaks of orange, yellow, and pink. Around the next curve, a herd of cows blocked the road, leisurely making their way across. She slowed the U-Haul to a stop behind several other cars and SUVs.
Seriously?
Windows down, she took a deep breath of the cool, thin mountain air. Eager to connect with someone familiar, she grabbed her phone, snapped a picture of the black-and-white cows, and set it to send along with a text to Becca, her best friend back in D.C.
My new neighbors. Eat mor chikin?
LOL. They’re blocking the road?
Yep.
Tell them to mooove it or it’s steak for dinner!
I wish. Miss u.
Lindsey’s heart thudded, and not just because of the altitude. She might’ve arrived, but this was no place like home. No high-rises. No monuments. No museums. At least until she got the Thistle Bend Mountain Heritage Museum up and running. Despite the fresher air here, she hoped this would be a short detour and she’d get back on track. Proving herself here would pave her way to landing a museum job back in D.C. Or even Richmond. She’d lived her entire life in those two cities. Returning to either place would feel like going home.
Chewing on a piece of gum that had lost its flavor hours ago, she tipped her head back and stared at the dingy ceiling of the truck cab. Had she lost her mind deciding to come to a place where cows blocked the roads? She’d really had no choice, since she was determined to utilize her degree in Museum Studies, and work in the career field she loved.
Lindsey rolled her head to the side and caught sight of the envelope tucked beneath her purse on the seat, the return address written in her great-aunt’s pointed script.
Oscar and Tansy Karlsson
103 Checkermallow Lane
Thistle Bend, Colorado 81224
Lindsey had seen her great-aunt and -uncle only twice in her life, but her grandma mentioned them every so often, mostly questioning how they were able to keep a restaurant in business with only one entrée on the menu.
“Not everyone likes fried chicken,” she’d say every time without fail. “And if chicken’s the only thing you serve, then why call the place The Canary?” She’d shake her head. “I always figured Oscar’s family was a couple eggs short of a dozen.”
“It’s a mining reference, Grandma,” Lindsey explained. “Hasn’t the place been open since the coal mining days?”
“Lord knows how. That restaurant keeps them busy all the time—even with just chicken to cook. But Tansy did it to herself. When she accepted Oscar’s proposal, I warned her she’d be marrying that restaurant, too.”
Lindsey reached for the envelope and pulled out the card she’d received last week.
Dear Lindsey,
Your recent thank-you note was sweet, yet unnecessary. All we did was share the news about the opportunity at the new Thistle Bend Mountain Heritage Museum. You landed the job! We’re excited to have another family member in town, but please remember…no one can find out that you’re related to a Karlsson. Keep that confidential, and things will go well for you in Thistle Bend.
Fondly,
Aunt Tansy and Uncle Oscar
Curious about all the mystery, Lindsey had called her aunt Tansy to chat. Come to find out, Tansy served on the town council. “You got the job because of your education and experience,” Tansy had said. “Not because you’re related to someone in high places. We want people to give you the credit you deserve. I assure you, things will work out better if you don’t tell anyone you’re a Karlsson.”
The wording in Tansy’s note had given Lindsey the strange feeling that there was more to it than that. It wouldn’t be long before she found out if she was right. Not one for keeping secrets, she’d reluctantly agreed to her great-aunt’s request. She was confident she could prove herself on the job no matter who had put in a good word for her along the way. But Tansy had insisted, and Lindsey didn’t want to be at odds with her great-aunt and -uncle—the only people she kind of knew in Thistle Bend.
What could keeping the secret really hurt, after all? Lindsey and her great-aunt and -uncle were distant relatives. Tansy was her grandmother’s sister. If anyone cared to—and Lindsey couldn’t imagine why they would—they’d have to do some digging to connect her to Tansy and Oscar Karlsson. Even then, there was no blood relation between them. Lindsey had been adopted as an infant, becoming the only child of her loving and supportive parents. So loving and supportive that they’d offered all kinds of assistance while she’d been unemployed. They’d even invited her to come back and live in her old bedroom upstairs in the white-brick colonial where she’d grown up. Lindsey adored her parents, but at twenty-eight, she was determined not to move back in with them. Dedicated to making it on her own, she had thanked them, pinched her pennies tighter, and declined.
Lindsey put the card back in the envelope. Since the cows blocking the road were in no hurry, she checked the printed map and directions to the cottage she’d rented. The map of the entire town fit neatly on one page, every street name and landmark legible. She bunched her lips and concentrated on the circle she’d drawn on the grid: 410 Primrose Street. In a mile or two she could park the U-Haul and get started on the journey that would lead her back to D.C.
After the last cow stepped off the pavement, Lindsey put the truck in gear and rounded the bend, to find a large, reasonably modern school complex set away from the road on her right.
Thistle Bend School. Welcoming Grades K–12.
Lindsey read the sign twice, the reality of small town life sinking in. One school for all the kids? The school appeared nice and well kept—flanked by a playground, a soccer field, and a baseball diamond where, at the moment, people were gathered watching an adult softball game. A cacophony of cheers and boos resounded from the field, rising into the twilight. The scene reminded Lindsey of summer evenings she’d spent playing kickball on the National Mall with her team from the Smithsonian.
Next she passed the modest-sized Center for the Performing Arts, pleased to see that there was one. The front of the building formed a stage, and a large lawn stretched out before it. Signs advertised a summer concerts-on-the-lawn series. Lindsey perked up. Could there be hope that Thistle Bend offered some of the activities she’d enjoyed in D.C., just on a much smaller scale?
The road led her past a cute Western-style shopping center—a hardware store, a pastry shop, a grocery store, even a movie theater, none of them chains like she’d seen in most of the cookie-cutter towns she’d passed through on her way here.
“Hmm…Kind of charming.”
But Thistle Bend really turned on the charm when it came to its main street, Larkspur Avenue. The center of the historic mining town surprised Lindsey, inviting her in, looking like something out of a Western storybook. Colorful Victorian buildings lined the stre
et—pink, blue, yellow. Whimsical gables and awnings accented shops and offices and restaurants, the latter of which also had quaint outdoor dining areas. Bright flowers billowed from hanging baskets at nearly every door and bloomed in planters along the sidewalk. Aspen trees dotted the way, their leaves fluttering in the breeze, glimmering in the dimming daylight.
Lindsey relaxed a little. At least the town was cute, and she’d seen some people that looked to be about her age. She’d be okay here for a little while, right? A year, tops.
One turn took her past an A-frame Catholic church, a bed-and-breakfast, and a park with a babbling creek running through it. She passed well-kept homes, and charming cottages with picket fences and friendly porches. People strolled by, walking their dogs, or pedaled bicycles, none seeming rushed to get anywhere.
They smiled.
They waved.
They looked content.
Was it possible people lived like this?
Lindsey took a left and, in less than a block, pulled the U-Haul to a stop in front of what was supposed to be 410 Primrose Street, according to the map. Her heart sank and she slumped her tired shoulders, her gaze shifting from the old miner’s cabin to the map and back.
No picket fence.
No friendly porch.
“No way,” Lindsey murmured.
But sure enough, next to the front door hung the wooden numbers four, one, and zero. The four had lost a screw and turned upside down. It fit right in with the peeling paint, sagging shutters, and rusty tin roof.
Home sweet home?
Clearly the property management company had posted old pictures of a freshly painted house in much better repair. From the looks of it, Lindsey guessed they’d colorized photos taken back in the mining days. The place was more like a shack than a cabin, and calling it a cottage was really pushing it. She thought about the plumbing situation and a flash of panic shot through her. If she walked around back and found an outhouse…
Butterfly Dreams Page 29
