Circle of the Heart

By Rena Manse

Love comes full circle...

Bren Harrington has her husband’s baby—alone—nine months after he died. For the past year and a half, she's been preoccupied with doubts and suggestions of adoption, strange looks of a woman her age with child, and now caring for that child, that she’s forgotten what it's like to just be an adult woman around adult men. Standing here with one of them who looks like he belongs in the pages of a magazine, isn’t the place to start.

With a lot of baggage and little time to waste, Cole Tyler moves from New York to Montauk, ready to establish his rank and authority. That doesn't stop him from helping out the new mother next door. Being neighborly doesn't have a price, and he won’t be around long enough to leave a lasting impression.

Bren's nowhere near ready to date. Who buries her husband then falls for another man so quickly? Totally out of the question! She has a five-month-old to think about. Her newly awakened attraction will have to forget about Cole Tyler: rock solid, beautiful laugh, killer smile, generous attitude, funny...younger. Phffft. Exactly. Absolutely not going to happen.

This is a Christian Romance

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rena Manse
• Release date: Mar 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311961624

Rena Manse

Hi, I'm Rena (as in Rayna). I write interracial Christian romance, and I like to think I'm filling the market for this well under-served genre. I'm passionate about igniting strong emotion through my writing, and hope you enjoy the adventure! As an ethnic female, I like to see realistic and relatable characters in my novels, and try to infuse everyday multicultural interaction to shape my characters' backgrounds and personalities. We're not always sweet or right, but we strive to hold on to God's values and not our own, and that's how we live victorious lives in today's world. I'm a musician, singer, songwriter, and consummate computer geek with a penchant for British mystery. (Really, who can resist those accents?) So join me as we get lost between the pages. Touches of color to your lives, RAM

Book preview

Circle

of the Heart

A Novel

Rena Manse

© 2018 by Vizionstories

and Andrea M. Harris

Distributed from Canada and the United States of America

Smashwords Distribution Edition

All rights reserved. The reproduction of this publication in any form, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise is prohibited without consent of the author, and in direct violation of the copyright law.

2016

Toronto, Canada

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, establishments, or incidents is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously.

03 16

01 18

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Books by Rena Manse:

A Crazy Little Winter Vacay

Circle of the Heart (The Revealing Series: Book 3)

Keir & Myah

Never Like This (The Revealing Series: Book 2)

Then, There’s Love (The Revealing Series: Book 1)

CIRCLE OF THE HEART

Love comes full circle…

Bren Harrington has her husband’s baby—alone—nine months after he died. For the past year and a half, she's been preoccupied with doubts and suggestions of adoption, strange looks of a woman her age with child, and now caring for that child, that she’s forgotten what it's like to just be an adult woman around adult men. Standing here with one of them who looks like he belongs in the pages of a magazine, isn’t the place to start.

With a lot of baggage and little time to waste, Cole Tyler moves from New York to Montauk, ready to establish his rank and authority. That doesn't stop him from helping out the new mother next door. Being neighborly doesn't have a price, and he won’t be around long enough to leave a lasting impression.

Bren's nowhere near ready to date. Who buries her husband then falls for another man so quickly? Totally out of the question! She has a five-month-old to think about. Her newly awakened attraction will have to forget about Cole Tyler: rock solid, beautiful laugh, killer smile, generous attitude, funny...younger. Phffft. Exactly. Absolutely not going to happen.

Christian Romance

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ABOUT RENA

CHAPTER ONE

BREN SPLAYED a hand over her face and gawked at the scene in front of her.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Open-mouthed she stared in disbelief. Her suitcases were still lazily sprawled open upstairs. Perhaps she could repack and leave town before anyone noticed.

Seriously, did the storm of the season skip over the entire New York State and land in her backyard?

She could hear the new round of whispers now. Don’t go near Brenalin Harrington’s house, the woman just doesn’t know how to keep up with the neighborhood.

With a whine, she cataloged the debris and leaves strewn all over the too-tall grass. The birch tree on the left, overhanging from her neighbor’s yard, had split like a banana and demolished a ten-foot section of the fence.

She didn’t want to think about the tool shed on the right no one dare enter any more with its rusted lock. Half of the roof facing the broken down tree was nowhere to be seen. Yep. The storm made a freeway through her yard and took her stuff with it. There must be a small lake inside the shed. Good thing the windows were crusted with windswept muck and grime because she didn’t have the heart to look at the mess until she was good and ready.

But for goodness sake, even without the storm, what had become of her home? All the fine people of Montauk would snub her for sure. It was bad enough she’d allowed the overgrown grass to tangle and turn yellow. When the Good Book said to let the wheat grow with the tares…she sighed. She couldn’t finish that sentence by any stretch of the imagination. As if tuned to her thoughts, a branch snapped and helped fell the tree with a soft-leafed crash.

That did it. She’d repack and flee town by cover of night.

April. In like a lion, out like a rabid, fangled-toothed, gnarly-hoofed lamb on steroids with electro-storm conductors for ears. Someone forgot to tell the category five hurricane that trampled through her begonias that this was springtime.

Allowing a whimper, she did a double take at the shredded pink and yellow petals. No-o-o! Not the begonias! Everything, just cover yourself back up with snow. Begonias be gone. So much for her early planting two weeks ago during a balmy day.

Pouting, she flipped the curtain back into place, blindly hoping the front yard had escaped a similar fate. No stranger to the receiving end of raised eyebrows due to her husbandless pregnancy, she’d handle the fallout of her shameful yard in a couple of weeks. It could at least wait until she finished breakfast. She dragged her mug along the counter to impatiently wait in front of the coffeemaker.

Nelson down the street could take on the weeding, gardening, pray-for-a-miracle-to-salvage-her-lawn project. The pretend Goth had some lost boy angst to burn. Best of all, he’d handled the job these last two years without supervision.

Instantly tired, she gripped the edge of the sink. She’d been too exhausted to care about any type of work. Not for the first time, she contemplated calling Revealing to extend her maternity leave to the full year. Her original plan to return when she finished weaning looked bleak. Thank God for a wonderful boss. She never would have decided to keep Sam if not for Kavin’s support.

The baby monitor came to life. She glanced at the red bleeps of the device on the marble counter top as cough-like beginnings of a cry filled the air. Speaking of the little critter who drained all of her energy…

She made to prepare a bottle in quick time. If she kept this up, she’d have no reserve left to flee town. Bren smiled then strained her neck to stare at the ceiling and sigh.

Out of habit, her hand ghosted over her midsection. Coming, Sam, she whispered to answer the incessant command. She wove her way to the front hall and jogged upstairs. When did you turn into an opera singer?

Nothing compared to having Sam with her in person, but she missed the days of caressing her belly and abstract conversations with her unborn son. He’d been privy to her whispers, prayers, and chuckles. Now, she’d often forget he wasn’t in her womb anymore. Not in her reach; not in the same room; not even in the same house, as when she surrendered him to her brother and sister-in-law for a week to finally grieve the loss of her husband. Out of that came the begonias which were probably half way to Kansas by now.

A mower or chainsaw started somewhere outside, startling the tired out of her with its violent rattle. That’d scare away all animal life for a good few blocks. She hurried and closed the window as she gave her frightened, crying critter a happy face.

All right. I’m here. It’s only eight o’clock. She scooped the cuddly, wiggly five-month-old to her chest. Yes, it is. Big bad storm kept you up all night. I thought you’d give Mommy more time for breakfast.

All signs of distress evaporated before she even laid him on the changing table. Slick child.

I’m on to you, she warned. He knew she was wrapped around his finger.

When she carried him downstairs, he stared as if fascinated by her with his triangle-shaped mouth and high eyebrows.

At least someone finds me mesmerizing. You should be. Twenty-six hours of labor at my age, mister, and only my sister-in-law to hold my hand? You owe me big time when you grow up.

He bucked his head backward with playful expectation. Giving him a loud kiss on his drooling chops, she strapped him into his carrier in the kitchen. Through the open window, the obnoxious sound of the motor amplified. Good grief, she’d say it came from her own back yard if she didn’t know any better.

Securing Sam in his seat, she peeked through the white, gold-flowered sheer curtains. Not that she expected to see the noisemaker, but she got a glimpse of a shiny, dark head bouncing across the far end of her fenced yard.

What? She shot up straight. Assessing Sammy was safe, she yanked open the back door. H-e-y! Her wave did nothing. Forget the mower, the heavy duty earmuffs guaranteed the bouncing rider wouldn’t be interrupted by her weak yell.

Bren stepped onto the porch and waved her arms. The lawnmower rider mulched and spit out three rows already. How long had he been at it? Five minutes? By the time she caught his attention with flagging arms, he’d rounded for the fourth. Sweat glinted off his dark, bald head. Not too dark. Perfect cappuccino brown. Nothing better than craving something bitter-sweet in the morning. She cleared her throat and anchored her fists on her hips while he cut the engine.

Hooray for her, she’d saved her lawn from a good…cutting. Maybe she’d fake being the worker’s client just to save herself the hassle down the road. Mmmh. They’d catch on to her sooner or later. Pity.

Her tight fists slipped from her hips when she zeroed in on the biceps stretching the army-green tee as he leaned back in his throne. Wow.

Brain on Pause and Mute, she couldn’t think of a thing to say when he pulled the earmuffs down around his neck and swung a leg over the seat. Bren let her eyes travel to the thighs defined in the faded jeans, then to the severely scuffed tan work boots. Riding back to the top, she blinked. Double wow.

Do men like this exist outside of airbrushed magazines?

Her husband had worn a military high ’n tight haircut she’d often wished he’d grow out, but the man before her sported a clean-shaved sleek scalp she couldn’t imagine looking any other way. The smooth dome capped off a strong jaw and brows that set the dark eyes as the focal point. Okay, triple…Stop that!

Good morning. The stranger’s lip tweaked in greeting.

Hi? Chest. Broad. Big. Do they send models to do yard work?

He crossed his arms and smiled at her with ease. Finally.

She took a step back mentally and physically. What if this was the criminal who’d been breaking into the summer houses here in Montauk? The media described him as tall but didn’t pinpoint a race. With ninety percent of the population being Caucasian, she couldn’t speculate as to why no one came up with an answer, though descriptions said he always wore a baseball cap and shades, dressed so not to attract attention.

Day or night, the Charmer—or so she’d dubbed him since he managed to get by a guard dog—couldn’t be caught. And here she was momentarily distracted by crazy, psycho-thief-lawn-cutter targeting crazy ogling desperate-lawn widows.

I didn’t know anyone was home. Sorry to—

Oohhkaay. You need to leave, you have the wrong house. Just as suddenly, she realized she was in no position to confront a trespasser.

She looked around and listened to determine if anyone was close enough to rescue her if needed. Trees and a high fence hid them from the back-lying houses, and they were all so sufficiently spaced away from one another. What a time to be ungrateful for her private yard.

But perhaps one of them had ordered the landscaper. Sorry for your trouble, but you need to go. With a curt nod she expected him to be on his way.

He grinned in a way that told her he wasn’t moving. I’m pretty sure I have the right place. The man owned a deep, assured voice, and she appreciated that he didn’t make a move to come closer. Her tight-wound stance to run inside may have given him a clue.

We didn’t order a landscaper, or—I don’t know what it’s called. Maybe one of my neighbors? Not us. Or did her brother set this up to save her from the Yard of Shame? Did you talk to Danny? James would no doubt be proud of her for using plurals and a false name. If her brother did set this up, the stranger would make the correction. Instead, an eyebrow rose.

I think we need to start over. He tipped forward. Hi, I’m Cole Tyler… he pointed to the seditious split tree folded over her fence. …owner of Big Bertha there. And, your neighbor.

New neighbor. Oh. She glanced at the house, then tried to smile away her embarrassment. I’ve been away visiting family for the past two weeks. The last bit of unrestrained freedom before embracing the new chapter of her life and returning to work. She’d noticed someone had moved into the equally old and regal house beside her when she returned four nights ago.

Though shocking to find him in her backyard, Bren wished she hadn’t jumped the gun. What type of robber takes time to cut the lawn? Perfect. Perfectly generous neighbor meets perfectly paranoid old lady. I feel… She sighed as she shook her head.

Don’t worry about it.

She was surprised he’d even heard from ten yards away. Her chest freed its tight hold on her lungs. Narrowing her eyes to study Cole, she vaguely remembered the sight of him meandering up the walk with the real estate agent at the end of last summer. Even then there’d been something familiar in the way he moved. But—sweet rays of sunshine—she didn’t remember him looking so big and intimidating.

I’ve, ah, Cole leaned against the mower and gave it a pat like it was his prized steed. Been tinkering with this thing for the past few days. I noticed you left early each morning, so I didn’t think you’d be home while I snuck in my neighborly deed.

Oh. Appointments. She waved it off with a hand.

Sam had been examined by his doctor their first day back, then her own checkup yesterday. The neighbor’s garage door had been open when she drove by each time, but it was forty feet up the bush-flanked driveway and she found it obtuse to crawl by at a snail’s pace to try to pry and spy. If she didn’t have Sam, she would have introduced herself that first day.

Howdy, neighbor, she held out a hand. I’m Bren. Bren Harrington.

Short for…Brenda? He pushed off the mower and started towards her. Sweet rays of sunshine and cotton candy. What was it about his walk that set off another memory?

Brenalin.

Now that’s one you don’t hear every day. The smart hitch in his tone made her smile.

As he approached, she wished his lithe stride didn’t remind her it’d been years since she’d really watched a man move. Not in a sexual way, just the appreciation of a male. Her psychologist parents would have something to say about the changes she’d noticed in herself these past few weeks. She blamed it on childbirth. It never ceased to amaze her how she’d flown her parents’ coop twenty-five years ago only to have a part of her brain still under their roof.

When Cole Tyler clasped her hand, she felt every bit the goofy, uncoordinated teenager in suburban Connecticut.

Gray-brown irises. Fascinating. They watched her under the lovely hooded bone structure shaping his eyebrows; enough to make her look away.

"Well, Brenalin, it’s a pleasure. I’ve been meeting people every day. It’s nice to finally meet the one who lives right beside me. Having the corner lot, that kind of makes you my only neighbor really."

She grinned. Grinned! Like she didn’t have any sense, but she was relieved to have a simple adult conversation with the opposite sex that didn’t involve instructions for baby or conspiracy theories.

Cole’s palm was rough, owned by an individual who’d done hard work without gloves. With her other hand she fingered the hair at her nape, a little surprised when her fingers slapped bare skin. Another thing she’d forgotten was that her recent haircut left her with only fringes.

She scratched nervously, then gazed up Cole’s six-foot-yikes height to grin again. He had at least eight inches on her five-six. Nothing that had intimidated her before, but then again, she wasn’t intimidated.

Notwithstanding, she needed to act her age. She wasn’t a teenager, nor for that matter, was she Cole’s age, mid-thirties maybe? Not much of a leap, but after just turning forty-four, she couldn’t imagine dipping into the dating pool with—dating pool..?

Oops. That embarrassing chuckle must never happen again. There could be a Mrs. Tyler—finger check. No. Okay. There could be a Mrs. Tyler-in-waiting or a Mrs. Tyler-hopeful.

Collecting wise-crack thoughts, she released his hand. Let me get this straight, Mr. Tyler. You thought I was out, so you decided to sneak in and cut my lawn so I would come home and find crop circles? How would I explain that? They cart people away for not being able to explain such things.

His smart eyes narrowed. "I never thought of that. So that’s why they squirreled away my neighbor, Old Mr. Stanley down the street. Hmh. Never knew."

You’ve been guilty of this before. I see. I think that in the future you need to consider the consequences before committing such kind and generous, completely necessary and grateful acts.

Those eyes swept her from head to toe. His face lit up with a smile so stunning his features transformed from good-looking to utterly content.

They do hire supermodels to cut lawns. Sweet ones.

I never learn. Cole’s deep voice grated through a deep laugh. Some habits are hard to break.

She reached for her hair and found her bare neck again.

But if it’s anything, I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds. Going by the state of your lawn and seeing the Baby on Board signs on your vehicle, I figured you wouldn’t have much time to tend to things out here.

Because any man or sane woman would have taken care of their yard long ago. My brother helped out during his last visit in the fall. She grimaced. I’ve been too exhausted to even think about it. I went insane and did the flowerbeds, but can’t manage much more.

I understand. The next sweep of his eyes was odd, shooing his alleged understanding right out the window.

Did he know it was only her and Sam?

Helping each other is what neighbors do. Cole looked up to

Reviews for Circle of the Heart

[leanna · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Completely engaging. Warm and loving and beautiful. I fell in love with Cole Tyler in a second. I love how mature this relationship was and natural. Thumbs up.