With This Kiss

by Bella Riley

  Her grandmother tried to say, “I’m fine,” but each word was punctuated by more coughs.

  Evelyn Thomas was a small-boned eighty-eight-yearold woman, but Andi had never thought of her grandmother as frail or fragile. Until now.

  As her grandmother tried to regain her breath, Andi couldn’t believe how translucent her skin had become. Evelyn’s hands had always been one of the most impressive things about her with long, slim fingers and nails neatly rounded at the tips. So strong, so tireless as she quickly knitted sweaters and blankets, the needles a blur as she chatted, laughed, and gossiped with customers and friends in Lake Yarns.

  “You shouldn’t come to work if you have a cold.” Fear made Andi’s words harder than they needed to be, almost accusing. “You should be resting.”

  Mostly recovered now, her grandmother waved one hand in the air. “I told you, I’m fine. Just a little coughing fit every now and then.” At Andi’s disbelieving look, she said, “Things like that happen to us old people, you know.”

  Andi hated to hear her grandmother refer to herself as old, even though she knew it was technically true. It was just that she couldn’t bear to think that one day Evelyn wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be living and breathing this store, the yarn, the customers who loved her as much as her own family did.

  A twinge of guilt hit Andi even though there was no reason for her to feel this way. Her mother and grandmother had always run Lake Yarns perfectly well by themselves. Nothing had changed just because Andi was going to be in town for a couple of weeks.

  Still, she couldn’t help but feel that she should have been here before now. What if something had happened to her mother or grandmother while she’d been gone? Just like it had happened to her father.

  “Have you seen Dr. Morris yet?” Andi asked, immediately reading the answer in her grandmother’s face. Sometimes Evelyn was too stubborn for her own good.

  Andi grabbed the cordless phone and handed it to her grandmother. “Call him.”

  “I can’t leave the store unattended.”

  “I don’t care about the store, Grandma. I care about you. That cough sounded awful. You need to get it checked out, make sure it isn’t something serious.”

  When Evelyn didn’t take the phone, Andi decided to take matters into her own hands. “Hello, this is Andi Powell. My grandmother Evelyn has a terrible cough and needs to see Dr. Morris as soon as possible.” After a moment of silence, where she listened to the friendly receptionist’s questions, Andi shot Evelyn a look. “She isn’t calling herself because talking makes her cough. Yes, she can be there in fifteen minutes.” She put the phone down on the counter. “He’s squeezing you in.”

  “I won’t put a closed sign up in the middle of the day on my store. I’ve been open rain or shine for nearly sixty years.”

  Andi found her grandmother’s purse behind the counter and forced her to take it, just as Evelyn had forced her to take the needles and yarn. “I’ll watch the store.”

  “You?”

  Evelyn’s disbelief was right on the edge of insulting. “Yes, me. How hard can it be?”

  One neat eyebrow moved up on her grandmother’s pretty face, and Andi realized how insulting her response had been.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Grandma. Look, the register is the same one you had when I was a kid. I couldn’t have forgotten positively everything about knitting. If I don’t know something, I’ll figure it out. I promise.”

  “Well, if you think you can handle it for an hour…”

  The challenge in her grandmother’s voice had her saying, “After your appointment, I want you to take the rest of the day off. I’ll close up.”

  But after Evelyn left, the bells on the door clanging softly behind her, Andi stood in the middle of the store wondering what the heck she’d just signed up for. With all the money Andi made in skyscrapers and on corporate campuses, she had absolutely no idea what she was doing in a place like this.

  Still Andi told herself there was no reason to panic.

  Anyone with half a brain could run a yarn store for a few hours on a Monday morning.

  A few seconds later, the front door opened and a gray-haired woman walked in.

  “Hello,” Andi said in an overbright voice. “Welcome to Lake Yarns.”

  “Thank you. I’ve heard such good things about your store that I drove all the way from Utica to come take a look.”

  Andi’s eyes widened. “You drove an hour and a half to visit this store?”

  The woman gave her a strange look. “Yes, I did. Several of my friends simply rave about your selection and customer service.”

  Andi hoped she didn’t look as horrified as she felt. This woman had traveled one hundred miles to shop here… and she was getting stuck with someone who didn’t even know how to knit.

  Sorely tempted to run down the street to call her grandmother back, Andi told herself she was being ridiculous. How much help would someone need in a yarn store? If you were a serious knitter, shouldn’t you already know everything?

  With another wide smile, Andi finally said, “Be sure to let me know if you need anything.”

  She stared down at the ancient register, not really remembering how to use it at all, and wondered if there was an instruction booklet somewhere under the counter. She didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of her first customer.

  “Excuse me?”

  Andi straightened up from her fruitless search for a manual. “Yes? Is there something I can help you with?”

  The woman held up a skein of yarn. “It says this is superwash, but I’m a fairly new knitter and I don’t know whether I should trust the label or not. Can you tell me how this actually washes? Does it pill or felt if you leave it in the dryer for too long?”

  Andi carefully studied the label as if “100% Superwash Merino Wool” meant something to her. If she said she had no idea how it washed because she didn’t knit or know the first thing about any of the yarns in the store, the woman would be—rightly—disgusted. But if she lied and said it would wash well and then it didn’t, Lake Yarns would have lost a customer for life.

  She’d never thought she’d have to think so fast standing in the middle of a yarn store.

  How wrong she’d been.

  Quickly deciding the truth was her best option, Andi said, “Actually I’ve never used that particular yarn.”

  The woman frowned. “Is there anyone here that has?” she asked, craning her head to see if there was some yarn guru hiding in the back of the store.

  “I’m sure there’s some information online about that brand. It will just take me a minute to look it up.”

  Thank god she never went anywhere without her tiny laptop. Unfortunately, it seemed to take forever to start up. She felt like she was standing in front of one of her clients who wanted answers about their project and wanted them now. Andi usually worked double-time not to be put in this kind of position.

  But her grandmother really had sounded terrible. Watching the store was the right thing to do.

  “I’ll just find an Internet connection and then—”

  Shoot. All of the nearby wireless providers were locked tight with passwords. Working not to let her expression betray her, Andi reached for her phone. But after what seemed like an eternity of trying to pull up her search page, all she got was a message that said, “Cannot connect.”

  She couldn’t believe it. She was being beaten by a yarn store.

  Shooting her clearly irritated customer a reassuring smile, she said, “I’ll have the information for you in another few moments,” then picked up the cordless phone and local phone book and went into the back.

  Flipping through the pages, she found another yarn store in Loon Lake and quickly dialed the number. “Hi, this is Andi Powell from Lake Yarns. I have a quick question for you about—” The woman on the other end of the line cut her off. “Oh yes, of course, I understand if you’re busy with a customer. Okay, I’ll call back in fifteen minutes.”


  But Andi already knew that fifteen minutes would be way too long. Desperate now, she walked out the back door and held her cell phone out to the sky, praying for bars.

  “Thank god,” she exclaimed when the word searching in the top left corner of her phone slowly shifted to the symbol that meant she had a wireless connection. Typing into the web browser with her thumbs, she actually exclaimed “hooray” and pumped her fist in the air when the information she’d been looking for appeared.

  A moment later, greatly relieved to find her customer was still in the store, she said, “Good news. It seems that everyone who has used that yarn is really happy with how well it washed. Plus it evidently doesn’t itch in the least.”

  The woman nodded. “Okay.”

  Uh-oh. That was less than enthusiastic.

  Hoping that talking about the woman’s intended project might reengage her earlier enthusiasm, Andi asked, “What were you thinking of knitting with it?”

  “A baby blanket for my new granddaughter.”

  The woman pulled a picture out of her purse. The baby was chubby and bald and smiling a toothless grin.

  “She’s beautiful,” Andi said softly.

  The woman nodded, her previously irritated expression now completely gone. “I learned to knit for her.”

  Just like that, Andi suddenly understood what her grandmother had been talking about: this baby was the reason this woman was falling in love with knitting. As Andi instinctively ran the yarn’s threads between her thumb and forefinger, a shiver of beauty, of sweet, unexpected calm suddenly moved through her.

  At long last, the knot in the center of her gut came loose, and she told the woman, “I think it will make a really beautiful baby blanket.”

  Andi wasn’t trying to sell the woman anything anymore.

  She was simply saying what she felt.

  THE DISH

  Where authors give you the inside scoop!

  From the desk of Stella Cameron

  Frog Crossing

  Out West

  Dear Reading Friends,

  Yes, I’m a gardener and I live at Frog Crossing. In England, my original home, we tend to name our houses, and the habit lives on for me. Some say I should have gone for Toad Hall, but enough said about them.

  Things magical, mystical, otherworldly, enchanting—or terrifying—have occupied my storytelling mind since I was a child. Does this have anything to do with gardening? Yes. Nighttime in a garden, alone, is the closest I can come to feeling connected to the very alive world that exists in my mind. Is it the underworld? I don’t think so. It is the otherworld, and that’s where anything is possible.

  At night, in that darkness, I feel not only what I remember from the day, but all sorts of creatures moving around me and going through their personal dramas. I hear them, too. True, I’m the one pulling the strings for the action, but that’s where the stories take root, grow, and spread. This is my plotting ground.

  In DARKNESS BOUND, things that fly through tall trees feature prominently. Werehound Niles Latimer and widowed, mostly human, Leigh Kelly are under attack from every quarter by fearsome elements bent on tearing them apart. If their bond becomes permanent and they produce a child, they can destroy a master plan to take control of the paranormal world.

  The tale is set on atmospheric Whidbey Island in the Pacific Northwest, close to the small and vibrant town of Langley, where human eyes see nothing of the battle waged around them. But the unknowing humans play an important part in my sometimes dark, sometimes lighthearted, sometimes serious, a little quirky, but always intensely passionate story.

  Welcome to DARKNESS BOUND,

  From the desk of R.C. Ryan

  Dear Reader,

  Ahh. With QUINN I get to begin another family saga of love, laughter, and danger, all set on a sprawling ranch in Wyoming, in the shadow of the Grand Tetons. What could be more fun than this? As I’m fond of saying, I just love a rugged cowboy.

  There is something about ranching that, despite all its hard work, calls to me. Maybe it’s the feeling that farmers, ranchers, and cattlemen helped settle this great nation. Maybe it’s my belief that there is something noble about working the land, and having a special connection to the animals that need tending.

  Quinn is all my heroes wrapped into one tough, rugged cowboy. As the oldest of three boys, he’s expected to follow the rules and always keep his brothers safe, especially with their mother gone missing when they were children. In tune with the land he loves, he’s drawn to the plight of wolves and has devoted his life to researching them and to working the ranch that has become his family’s legacy. He has no need for romantic attachments… well, until one woman bursts into his life.

  Fiercely independent, Cheyenne O’Brien has been running a ranch on her own, since the death of her father and brother. Cheyenne isn’t one to ask for help, but when an unknown enemy attacks her and her home, she will fight back with everything she has, and Quinn will be right by her side.

  To me, Cheyenne is the embodiment of the Western woman: strong, adventurous, willing to do whatever it takes to survive—and still very much a beautiful, soft-hearted, vulnerable woman where her heart is concerned.

  I loved watching the sparks fly between Quinn and Cheyenne.

  As a writer, the thrill is to create another fascinating family and then watch as they work, play, and love, all the while facing up to the threat of very real danger from those who wish them harm.

  I hope you’ll come along to share the adventure and enjoy the ride with my new Wyoming Sky trilogy!

  www.ryanlangan.com

  From the desk of Bella Riley

  Dear Reader,

  When my husband I were first married, one of our favorite things to do was to go away for a romantic weekend together at a historic inn. We loved to stay at old inns (the Sagamore on Lake George in the Adirondacks), or windswept inns on the Pacific Ocean (the Coronado in San Diego), or majestic inns made of stone in the middle of a seemingly endless meadow (the Ahwahnee in Yosemite Valley). Now that we’ve got two very active kids, we have slightly different requirements for our getaways, which are more boisterous and slightly less romantic… although I have to say our kids put up with “Mommy and Daddy are kissing again” pretty darn well! Fortunately, my husband and kids know that my favorite thing is afternoon tea, and my husband and son don’t at all seem to mind being the only males in frilly rooms full of girls and women in pretty dresses.

  As I sat down to write the story of Rebecca and Sean in WITH THIS KISS, I immediately knew I wanted it to take place in the inn on Emerald Lake. With those pictures in my head of all the inns I’ve stayed at over the years, I knew not only what this inn looked like, but also the many love stories that had been born—and renewed—there over the years. What’s more, I knew the inn needed to be a large part of the story, and that the history in those walls around my hero and heroine would be an integral part of the magic of their romance. Because when deeply hidden secrets threaten to keep Rebecca and Sean apart despite the fireworks that neither of them can deny, the truth of what happened in the inn so many years ago is finally revealed.

  I so enjoyed creating my fantasy inn on Emerald Lake, and I hope that as you’re reading WITH THIS KISS, even if you aren’t able to get away for a romantic weekend right this second, for a few hours you’ll feel as if you’ve spent some time relaxing… and falling in love.

  Happy reading,

  www.bellariley.com

  From the desk of Jami Alden

  Dear Reader,

  Who hasn’t wished for a fresh start at some point in their lives? I know I have. The urge became particularly keen when I was starting high school in Connecticut. Not that it was a terrible place to grow up, but an awkward phase combined with a pack of mean girls eager to point out every quirk and flaw had left their scars. Left me wishing I could go somewhere new, where I could meet all new people. People who wouldn’t remember the braces (complete with headgear!), the unibrow, the glasses (l
avender plastic frames!), and the time my mom tried to perm my bangs with disastrous results.

  In RUN FROM FEAR, Talia Vega is looking for a similar fresh start. Granted, the monsters from her past are a bit more formidable than a pack of snotty twelve-year-olds, and the scars she bears are physical as well as emotional. But like so many of us, all she really wants is a fresh start, a new life, away from the shadows of her past.

  But just as I was forced to sit in class with peers who remembered when I had a mouth full of metal and no idea how to wield a pair of tweezers, Talia Vega can’t outrun the people unwilling to let her forget everything she’s tried to leave behind. Lucky for her, Jack Brooks, the one man who has seen her at her absolute lowest point, will do anything to protect her from monsters past and present.

  And even though I got my own fresh start of sorts when I moved across the country for college, I sure wish someone had been around to protect me from my mother and her Ogilvie home perm kit. I don’t care what the commercial says—you CAN get it wrong!

  www.jamialden.com

  Also by Bella Riley

  Home Sweet Home

  Praise for

  Home Sweet Home

  “This wonderful visit to Emerald Lake is full of delightful characters. The struggles the heroine faces are understandable and the secondary story threads are a joy to read about.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Author Bella Riley writes a beguiling story of living with past choices, sacrifice for love, forgiveness, and optimism for the future… a diverse hometown atmosphere… Home Sweet Home is an excellent read about family and community, filled with emotional drama and coming to terms with the past.”