Love in Alaska, A Love Around the World Romance

By Tina Peterson Scott

Can facing down a bear and tackling the Alaskan wilderness tame the storm in Marcia Williams’s heart?

After a painful breakup, Marcia prescribes herself a two-week vacation to Homer. Time with her friend Traci John is all that’s on the agenda, not falling for the first guy she meets.

Storm Gaige is handsome, kind, and polite. He’s an educator, like her, and he wants kids, like her. For Marcia, it’s an instant attraction. The problem is, there are over 2,140 reasons for her not to like Storm, give or take a few miles. But, distance isn’t the only issue.

Set in idyllic Homer, Love in Alaska is a sweet romance filled with themes of love, betrayal, second chances, and learning to love after heartache.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tina Peterson Scott
• Release date: Jul 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370667987

Tina Peterson Scott

Tina and her husband have seven children and a growing number of grandchildren. Other than large family get-togethers involving lots of food and fun, she enjoys writing, watercolor painting, long walks, ice cream, and traveling to Europe—especially to her father’s ancestral home of Denmark.After her youngest child started school, so did Tina. Graduating from Chandler Gilbert Community College with highest honors, Tina realized that dreams turn into goals and aspirations when we work hard and don’t give up.Life is an Adventure, and Tina enjoys reading complex stories where adventure is one of the elements. She enjoys writing stories about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. She has also written children’s picture books, a variety of non-fiction stories, and magazine articles.

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By Tina Scott

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Note from Author

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About the Author

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright© 2018 by Tina Scott. All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior return permission of the publisher.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Published by Foutz Fables & More 2018

To my mother, Mae, who was a voracious reader, and to David and Amy who taught me the wonders of Alaska.

O

ne

The last four years of my life had come down to this: me, Marcia Williams, recently unengaged school teacher, parked in front of a shabby, white stucco building east of town called, Pat’s Pawn It All. I had been here for the better part of a half hour waiting for the nerve to go in. And, if my friend wasn’t moving back to Alaska, I might never have come. Selling the ring would make the breakup all too real, but I couldn’t let Traci fly off by herself never to see her again.

I heaved a ragged breath, and muttered, I can do this. After all, I had broken off my engagement to Brad three months ago, and that was three months too long to mourn the loss of that cheating scumbag. I checked in the rearview mirror for any telltale signs of tears and dabbed around my eyes, but still I sat.

The jerk had already texted me five times wanting the ring back. My phone chimed, and I looked down—six times. But he wasn’t getting the ring. It’s mine, I muttered. If it had been an heirloom, maybe, but it wasn’t. He’d won the stupid thing in a poker game.

The Jerk had bragged incessantly on its expense, but I hadn’t believed him. Who bet away expensive rings? I pulled it from my bag, admiring it for one last time. Eighteen small diamonds encircled the delicate platinum ring and complimented a very clear, very scrumptious one-carat diamond. I shook my head. It must be super expensive for him to keep texting me. And, the biggest insult was that never once had the cheater texted wanting me back!

Regardless of the ring’s origins, it was mine now. A gift. A token of a promised lifetime together that had lasted all of four years. I’d met Brad on my thirtieth birthday, and thought he was the one. He’d stave off the ticking of my biological clock. Well, the clock was broken now. No use in worrying about kids, a family, or loving someone in that comfortable space where no pretense existed. He had ruined it all. Not that it mattered, I didn’t need a man to complete me.

The tears welled in my eyes, and I knew this line of thinking would get me nowhere. I needed my wits about me in order to barter a good deal for the ring. I’d hold out for $500. That would at least pay my airfare. But, I couldn’t think about it or debate it any longer, or I’d be a mess of tears. No one gave good deals to weeping women.

Rip it off like a band aid, I said. Just like Brad had ripped apart my heart when I’d seen him. Caught him. At the restaurant. On our date. Making a date with the waitress! I let out a scream and punched the steering wheel. I guzzled a drink from my water bottle, slammed it back into the cupholder, and grabbed my bag. Alaska here I come. The car door slammed shut behind me, and I strode into the pawn shop.

While waiting for the pawn broker, I looked around the store. There was nothing elaborate like on that TV show, and most of it looked as though it had been there a while. The place could use a good dusting. My hopes sank as I viewed the assortment of engagement and wedding rings in the case. It was depressing, really, to be witness to all of the broken promises and failed dreams behind the glass. I started toward the door. This was foolish, I mumbled. Thinking I could get enough from the ring to help pay for a getaway with Traci? Ridiculous.

Can I help you? A fifty-ish man with a stomach that preceded him and a receding hairline, stood behind the counter near the door.

What the heck, I mumbled and pulled the ring from my bag. What’ll you give me for this?

Are you pawning it or selling it outright? The man took the ring and looked it over.

I want to sell it. If he only offered fifty bucks I would scream. I wouldn’t accept an offer so low. I couldn’t.

I’ll need to examine it more closely. He walked behind the counter and pulled out a cylindrical looking-glass thingy. I’d seen them on TV before. He put it to his eye and held the ring up.

He appeared to examine every diamond along the ring. I knew the game. The man was pretending to consider buying it while secretly coming up with a lame excuse why it wasn’t worth his time, and why he’d be doing me a favor to take it off my hands. That strategy wouldn’t work.

This is a nice ring you’ve got here, he said.

Yes, it is. What was his game? This was different than I’d imagined.

I’m not a ring expert. Do you mind if I call in a buddy to examine it? Depending on what he says, then I’ll make a more educated offer.

That sounds fine. So, he had a buddy in on the scam. I’d be ready. Tired of dealing with jerks and liars, my toe tapped against the concrete.

The man called someone, and after a short conversation and saying something about a Blue Nile, he hung up. "It’ll be about thirty minutes. Do you mind waiting?

Thirty minutes for fifty bucks? I couldn’t let it go for that and reached out to take the ring and leave, but as I opened my mouth to tell him so, my phone buzzed with another text from Brad. He didn’t want me back. The jerk wanted the ring. Did he have a new girlfriend already? The man had barely apologized. All he ever wanted was the ring. Not me. I don’t mind waiting at all, I said with a forced smile. Do you mind if I take the ring and wait in my car?

We have comfortable seating right over here, he said, pointing in the general direction. There’s a snack bar and a soda machine.

Did they make a habit of making customers wait? It’s fine. I shook my head. I prefer to wait in my car.

The man handed me the ring, and I went to my Camry, turned on the engine for the air conditioning and pulled out my phone. I’ve had more than enough reminders of what I don’t mean to you, Brad Marnier. On my contacts page, I went to settings and scrolled down to block his calls. Ha! Oh, but first, I had one last point of business. I opened his number to text. I’m sorry, but I lost my ring in a poker game. Quit bugging me.

That served him right, and I chuckled while blocking his number. I needed closure. That would happen easier without the constant drone of his texts. He wasn’t even man enough to call. Not that I would answer, but it would have been more manly of him.

Next, I found Traci John’s number and called her. Hey, Traci. My voice cracked with emotion, but I was proud of myself. I took a drink and then heaved another cleansing breath. Remember how you invited me to Alaska this summer? My friend, an administrator for the City of Fresno, was moving back into one of her mom’s rentals to help grow her business. I could only deal with one loss at a time and refused to think of it as permanent.

Are you coming? Traci sounded hopeful.

I’m at the pawn shop.

"Good for you. It’s not like you’ll ever wear the ring again, and if you bought