The Ocean City Boardwalk Series, Books 1-3
Page 1
Ocean City Boardwalk Series Bundle
Books 1-3
Donna Fasano
Copyright © 2017, Donna J. Fasano
All Rights Reserved
Ocean City Boardwalk Series Bundle, Books 1-3
eBook ISBN 978-1-939000-45-3
This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part (beyond that copying permitted by U.S. Copyright Law, Section 107, “fair use” in teaching or research, Section 108, certain library copying, or in published media by reviewers in limited excerpt), without written permission from the author.
Find the author:
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Contents
Introduction
Following His Heart
Original Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Sara’s Yeast Rolls
Geneva’s Ambrosia
Sara’s Snickerdoodles
Heather’s Fresh Cranberry Sauce
Cathy’s Brown Sugar & Cracked Pepper Bacon
Sara’s Layered Pumpkin Cheesecake
Two Hearts in Winter
Original Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Sweet Potato Soup (Africa)
Cornish Beef Pasties (England)
Hummus (India)
Tabbouleh Salad (Greece)
Lemon Ricotta Pie (Italy)
Maple Cookies (Canada)
Wild Hearts of Summer
Original Copyright
The Inheritance Letter
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Blueberry Pancakes
Lemon Ricotta Pancakes with Lemon Curd and Raspberries
Prosciutto Wrapped, Gorgonzola Stuffed Dates With Balsamic Honey Syrup
Roasted Eggplant Spread
Black Olive and Artichoke Spread
Smith Island Cake
A Note From the Author
About The Author
Other Books By Donna Fasano
Sara, Heather, and Cathy have been best friends since grade school. Through the years they’ve cheered each other on, celebrating each victory. They’ve been supportive through grief and illness, sorrow and strife. Now in their mid-thirties, these women are as close as sisters—razzing and nagging, laughing and encouraging. Join them as they face love and loss… and learn to hold tight to the idea that friends are your chosen family.
The Ocean City Boardwalk Series Bundle contains three full-length contemporary romance novels. In FOLLOWING HIS HEART, Sara is a young widow who meets a man with a very special heart. TWO HEARTS IN WINTER sees Heather inviting a mysterious author to share her home during the off season. And Cathy is forced to face her past and reconcile the present in WILD HEARTS OF SUMMER.
The Ocean City Boardwalk Series, where life isn’t just fun in the sun—love is waiting on those sandy shores!
Following His Heart
Original Copyright
Copyright © 2014, Donna J. Fasano
Following His Heart
Paperback ISBN 978-1-939000-30-9
eBook ISBN 978-1-939000-31-6
All Rights Reserved
This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part (beyond that copying permitted by U.S. Copyright Law, Section 107, ” fair use” in teaching or research, Section 108, certain library copying, or in published media by reviewers in limited excerpt), without written permission from the author.
Chapter One
Up to her elbows in sudsy water, Sara Carson frowned as she watched the heavy baking sheet slip from the counter and bounce off the ancient pipe that ran along the baseboard. Her eyes widened in absolute horror when water from the busted fitting sprayed a forceful, ten-foot arc toward the cooling racks in the center of the room that held the hundreds of perfect, jack-o-lantern-shaped sugar cookies she’d spent hours baking. The mouth-watering aroma of warm vanilla that she’d just paused to savor seemed to swirl and drown in some awful eddy along with the satisfied smile that had been on her lips just a moment before.
Without even thinking about it, she dove for the tray—soap bubbles flying everywhere—and wielded it like a shield against the onslaught. Water soaked her blouse and apron and plastered her bangs against her forehead, but the tray redirected the shower for now. Her eyes were wild as she looked around and tried to figure out what to do next. She couldn’t continue squatting here for long. Someone needed to run to the utility room and turn off the water at the main valve.
She’d never make her deadline if she didn’t save those cookies.
“Cathy!” she yelled. But she knew she would never be heard above the morning news that was blaring in the café next door to her shop. And she didn’t dare do the job herself; by the time she reached the water nozzle, every single cookie would be ruined.
She ran a frantic gaze around the kitchen and saw a tea towel over on the island. Wrapped around the fitting, the towel might hold back the water long enough for her to get to the utility room. Sara stretched out her arm, continuing to hold tight to the cookie sheet with her other hand. Reach. Oh, for criminy’s sake. It was impossible. Too far away.
The water struck the cookie sheet on one corner, shoving it into Sara’s face and knocking her off balance. A stream escaped, shooting into the air and landing, dead-center on a full tray of cookies.
“Damn it!” Sara muttered as she twisted back around to block the spray.
By now, her white canvas sneakers were sodden, her toes swimming in the spongy cushion-soles each time she shifted her weight. Her knees and thighs began to ache.
The phone! The thought seeped into her thoughts and sent her scrambling in her back pocket for her cell, but when she let loose of the sheet, it once again smacked her in the forehead and allowed more water to douse her.
“Time for a new plan,” she said right out loud, and she reached around, curled her fingers around the pipe until her palm was directly over the leak. She squeezed as tightly as she could. Then with her free hand, she pulled out her phone and called Cathy.
It only rang once.
“Can’t talk. The place is packed and I’m short one waitress.”
Sweet and soft-spoken were not words anyone would use to describe Cathy, and Sara wasn’t surprised that her friend answered so tersely. The woman might own a sharp tongue, but she had a heart of
gold and had been one of those rare, you-can-count-on-me kind of friends for a lot of years.
“I’m at the shop. I’ve got a leak,” Sara said, clear panic in her voice.
“Look, the pancakes on the griddle need to be turned. I’ve got three customers who want to eat their eggs while they’re still hot. And the timer’s going to go off any second now. I have to be here to pull the biscuits out of the oven.”
The Sunshine Grill was Cathy’s pride and joy. Open for breakfast and lunch, it had an abundance of loyal locals who frequented the restaurant as well as the throng of boardwalk tourists who flooded the place. When Cathy divorced her husband several years ago, she’d thrown herself into making a success of her establishment. Her customers came first, above all else.
“I’m feeding people here. Can you call Heather?” Cathy asked.
The hypotenuse of their triangle, Heather owned the building and ran The Lonely Loon, the B&B located above Sara’s Sweet Shop and The Sunshine Grill.
“She had an appointment this morning. I need you to turn off the water.”
Sara heard kitchen noises, the clatter of utensils and porcelain plates, along with the blare of the morning news being broadcast from the television anchored high on the wall in sight of all the customers.
“I’m in the middle of breakfast service, Sara. I need water.”
The building had been constructed in the 1920s and the plumbing and wiring were forever failing. Years ago when the first floor had been turned into a restaurant, Heather’s mother, The Lonely Loon’s proprietor at the time, knew someone on the City Counsel who had grandfathered the plans so that the restaurant could share water pipes with the bed and breakfast. And by some amazing miracle, the woman was able to grease more palms when a portion of the restaurant had been refurbished into an ice cream parlor more than two dozen years ago. The parlor had since been turned into Sara’s Sweet Shop—a bakery that supplied local restaurants with delicious pies, cakes, cookies, breads, and other baked goods.
The need to have the plumbing overhauled and the building rewired was often a topic of conversation between Heather, Cathy, and Sara, but they continued to bandage, staple, glue, fold, cinch, and pad the leaky pipes and fixtures until they could decide on the best time, not to mention finding the money, to close down all three businesses in order to do some modernizing.
“We can’t shut off the water for a drippy faucet,” Cathy groused. “Wrap a towel around that thing. We’ll fix it later.”
At that very moment, a small jet of water forced its way between Sara’s fingers and struck her under the chin. Icy water ran down her neck and between her breasts, and that’s when she lost her temper.
“You get your ass to the utility room right this second,” she screamed, “and turn the damn water off!”
Cathy went silent on the other end of the phone for several long seconds. Yelling and cursing wasn’t in Sara’s makeup. Not normally. But she looked over at her sugar cookies and the thought of all those hours of labor and the cost of ingredients wasted short-circuited all the niceness that was in her.
The muscles in Sara’s hand and wrist were growing fatigued, and she was just about to give a second shout when she heard her friend’s voice.
“Um, hon,” Cathy told her, “you’re on speaker.”
* * *
Landon Richards sat at the counter of the The Sunshine Grill, waiting for the short stack of pancakes with a side of brown sugar and cracked pepper bacon he’d ordered from the harried woman behind the counter—“Cathy” machine embroidered onto her bright aqua chef’s jacket. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to avoid eavesdropping on her cell phone conversation. In fact, practically everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating and openly stared at Cathy.
The woman on the other end of the phone groaned.
“I’m sorry, Cath, but I need you. Water’s shooting everywhere. I can’t hold it back much longer. I’m going to lose my cookies.”
Pure instinct had Landon standing up and waving to capture Cathy’s attention. His family hadn’t dubbed him The Answer Man for nothing. He’d spent nearly twenty years solving problems and keeping the family business organized and running smoothly.
“Can I help?” he asked. “Where’s the utility room?”
Cathy shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Ask him!” the frantic voice shouted from the cell. Without waiting for a response, she continued, “Through the kitchen. Make a left. The utility room is the last door on your right. Hurry. Move it!”
“This way,” Cathy told him. Seemingly in one smooth motion she disconnected the call, shoved the phone in the back pocket of her jeans, delivered two plates of food to customers sitting at the counter, then waved Landon toward her. “Through there—” she pointed at the door at the back of the kitchen. When he hurried past her, she was already at the sink, filling a large pitcher with water. “Left, then right at the end of the hall. I think the main nozzle is red. Tell Sara to rig up the leak and get the water back on, pronto. Without fresh coffee, my customers will revolt.”
“I’m on it.” Landon offered her a little salute before starting off on his mission. Then he paused and turned back just in time to see her flipping the pancakes that, he guessed, were to be his breakfast. “Um, where is she? This Sara you were just talking to?”
“Next door. The door to her shop is almost directly across from the utility room. You can’t miss it.”
The look on his face made Cathy chuckle. “Yes, we share water pipes. It’s complicated.” The timer on the stove beeped, and Cathy reached for a large oven mitt that touted a huge yellow sun. “Go,” she urged. “And when you get back, breakfast is on the house.”
The utility room was easy enough to find, and so was the nozzle. Yes, it had been red at one time, but the paint was nearly all peeled off now and gray corrosion encrusted the fixture. He cranked down on the nozzle until it wouldn’t turn anymore, then he scanned the gray metal shelving units, plucking off some items he thought Sara would need. A bucket, for sure, he thought. If she was going to toss her cookies, she certainly didn’t want to have that mess on top of what must be a small flood in her shop. Several old, raggedy towels. A small, blue plastic tool box. And a roll of silver duct tape.
At least semi-armed and ready, he didn’t bother trying to close the door behind him. He could come back and do that later. He made his way to the first door across the hall and pushed his way inside. Heady smells both warm and sweet engulfed him, but his mission had him barely noticing.
“Hello?” he called.
“Here. Over here. By the sink.”
He didn’t have to go far to find her.
“Thanks,” she said in a rush. “So much. I was sure I was going to lose my cookies.”
Landon set the toolbox on the counter so quickly it thumped, then he pulled the towels and tape from the bucket, tossed them next to the toolbox, and shoved the empty bucket directly in front of her.
“Here you go.” He slid his hand behind her head and applied the slightest bit of pressure. “Let ‘er rip.”
She braced both hands on the bucket rim, and for a moment or two, they played a little tug of war; her trying to sit up, and him pressing her down.
Finally, she said, “Stop!”
He blinked and straightened his spine. The look in her vivid green eyes told him she thought he was crazy.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling confused and lifting both hands, palms out. “I was just trying to help. You, ah, you, um…”
The woman looked like she’d just stepped out of the ocean. She was on her knees, her shins and shoes sitting in a pool of water. There wasn’t a dry patch of skin or clothing on her. Her hair was stuck to her skull, and the dark makeup around her eyes was smudged, giving her a raccoon-like appearance. A cute raccoon, but a raccoon, nonetheless.
He couldn’t hold back his smile, and before he could stop it, a chuckl
e erupted from his throat. “You are quite a sight.”
She reached up and smoothed a self-conscious hand over her head while water dripped from her earlobes, the ringlets at her nape, even from the tip of her nose.
“Yeah, I guess I am. I was just visited by what’s known around here as the primitive plumbing monster, and it seems I lost again.” She reached out her hand to him. “I’m Sara Carson.”
He shook her cool, wet hand. “Landon. Landon Richards.”
“Well, thank you for coming to my rescue, Landon. Now how about answering my question.” She glanced down at the bucket, then her gaze lifted back to his face. “What was that all about?”
His brow knit together. “But I already told you. I was trying to help.”
“By shoving my face in a bucket?”
The question made his frown deepen. “You said you were going to be sick. I heard you clear as day. You said it twice.”
Her expression, along with her utter silence, told him that he’d completely bewildered her. So he attempted to explain further.