Always You: Love on Charlotte Island Series, #3

By Jason Patrick

Does life imitate art? One romance writer is about to find out.

Abbey Miller is a successful romance novelist who always gives her characters their HEA, even if she is yet to find her own. So she is less than enthusiastic to return home to Charlotte Island for a writers conference to encounter Sean Copeland, the boy who tormented her growing up and the one person she hoped to never see again.

Abbey is determined to not let Sean get the better of her, while Sean has his own misgivings about seeing Abbey again. But when the two find themselves working together at the conference, Abbey experiences feelings she has only ever written for her characters. Has she finally found her own happily ever after . . . or is Sean still the same guy from their childhood?

If you enjoy emotional and heartwarming stories, with relatable characters and a location that is like visiting a familiar and favorite place, then you will love this book and series.

 

Reader Praise for Always You:

"Fantastic! From page one the story reaches out and grabs you."

"I LOVED this story."

"Grab your copy and get ready for a feel-good story."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wheelhouse Publishers
• Release date: Apr 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393729549

Book preview

Chapter 1

Abbey Miller stared at the blinking cursor on the blank page of her computer screen and sighed. She was the author of fifteen best-selling romance books - hailed by the Romance community as the Queen of Romance. But her heart was not in completing her latest novel. Abbey was all romanced out.

She knew it disingenuous for her to be sick-and-tired of romance. How could she not be completely enchanted with love? Worse, how did she become jaded about it?

Somehow Abbey would give her characters their HEA. She owed that much to her readers. Even if cupid's arrow totally missed the mark in her own life.

Abbey looked at her calendar - anything to keep from staring at the blank screen a moment longer. She noted the words 'ROMANCE BOOK ASSOCIATION CONFERENCE' written in big block letters across the following week. She sighed again. It was the biggest conference of the year and Abbey was a featured speaker. She committed before she knew it was going to be held on Charlotte Island.

Most people would be happy to attend a conference on Charlotte Island in October. Beautiful fall weather. One the country's top tourist destinations. No summer crowds. Abbey wasn't most people.

She had spent most of her childhood on the idyllic island. But her childhood was not particularly idyllic. It hadn't been terrible. Just far from ideal. Her parents divorced when Abbey was fourteen and her mother moved Abbey and her sister, Jenn, to a town outside of Boston.

Leaving Charlotte Island hadn't bothered Abbey. She had, however, remained troubled by her parents' divorce. The bitterness between them hung over the broken family like a heavy smog. Abbey's escape – her sanity – came in writing about true love.

She imagined the type of love she knew must exist – had to exist – in the world, but which her own parents did not share with each other. Abbey assumed they must have loved each other once. Just not with the deep passion she longed to find in her own life.

Abbey had built a wonderful career doing what she loved most. Now she felt spent. Her tank empty. Worse, Abbey began to doubt the true love she wrote about in her books.

If she could no longer believe in true love, how could she write about it? Well, it is fiction, Abbey said out loud to herself. Nonetheless, she couldn't be dismissive of the notion of true love.

Her eyes scanned to later in the month. She stopped on a circled date three weeks away. It was when she planned on releasing her book. A sense of dread filled her. She couldn't see how her current work in progress would become a completed novel by the date on the calendar.

Perhaps inspiration would come over a nice cup of tea, she thought. Abbey pushed away from her desk and got up from the chair. Butterscotch, her orange tabby cat, looked up from his nap. He stretched and jumped off Abbey's desk onto the floor.

Abbey walked to the kitchen, with Butterscotch following at her heels. As she made her tea, Butterscotch nuzzled against Abbey's leg and purred.

Butterscotch, said Abbey, I don't have anything for you. Undaunted, Butterscotch continued to nuzzle and purr.

Okay, one treat. Abbey opened the pantry and found a bag of cat treats. Butterscotch's purring grew louder, and he rubbed against her leg double-time. Here you go, Abbey said as she placed the treat on the floor. Butterscotch gobbled it up and then mewed.

No more, Abbey told him. You'll ruin your dinner.

The kettle began to boil and Abbey poured the boiling water into her mug. She set the mug on her kitchen table to let the tea bag steep. As she sat down, her phone rang. Caller ID indicated it was her sister, Jenn.

How is the Queen of Romance? Jenn asked when Abbey answered the phone.

Grrr, said Abbey.

What's wrong? asked Jenn.

I don't feel much like the Queen of Romance.

Writer's block? asked Jenn.

If only that were the problem.

What is worse for a writer than not knowing what to write?

Not having the desire to write, said Abbey.

Oh, said Jenn. She paused a beat. Yes, I suppose that is worse. Anything I can do to help.

Unless you can wave a magic wand and turn a frog into a prince, I don't think so.

I think you are confusing genres, said Jenn.

Butterscotch hopped onto the table and sniffed at Abbey's tea. She scooped him up and placed him back on the floor.

At this point, said Abbey, I'm going to need a heavy dose of magic, or a miracle, or something similar to finish this book.

Perhaps being at the Romance conference will inspire you.

That is the last thing I want to be doing right now.

Well, you are one of the main speakers, said Jenn. Not to mention it will give us a chance to visit. Plus, it will be fun to be back on Charlotte Island.

Maybe for you. You were the popular girl and have happy memories of living there. Me, not so much.

Oh, come on, Abbey. It wasn't all that bad.

It wasn't all that good, either, said Abbey. Do you remember Sean Copeland?

Sure. said Jenn. He was cute.

He was a nightmare, said Abbey. He tormented me from pre-school all the way through junior high.

Sean Copeland was a little mischievous, but not a bad kid, said Jenn.

Because he liked you. Look, I need to go if I have a prayer of getting my manuscript finished on time.

They said their goodbyes and finalized their plans to spend the weekend together at the end of the conference. The two sisters spoke regularly, but had not seen each other in over a year. It would be nice to spend two whole days with Jenn.

Abbey drank her tea and went back to her study. Butterscotch followed. He jumped onto Abbey's desk and found a spot on top of some papers. He went to sleep for part two of his afternoon nap.

Abbey petted Butterscotch as she looked back at her computer screen. Some Queen of Romance you are, Abbey said out loud to herself. Her well felt dry. She questioned if she could write another 'I love you.'

For fifteen books romance consumed Abbey's thoughts. She lovingly and joyously tapped away at her keyboard to deliver heartwarming stories of love and happily ever afters to her loyal readers. There wasn't a romance trope Abbey couldn't give life to on the page. Her real life was a different matter.

Is there happily ever after? Abbey questioned out loud. Butterscotch continued to sleep, uninterested in the question.

Butterscotch, it may just be the two of us forever, said Abbey. She scratched behind his ear and he began to purr. After a half hour of avoiding putting her fingers to the keyboard, Abbey gave up for the day. She decided to pack for Charlotte Island.

Chapter 2

Sean Copeland stood at the edge of the Charlotte Inn banquet hall and observed as event staff prepared for the coming week's festivities. Men, the size of small trucks, lifted various sections of a platform stage and pieced them together like a puzzle. Other staff moved about in a flurry of activity as chairs were placed neatly in rows. Sean marveled at how various setups could transform the stately hall to suit any occasion.

Last week there had been a bar mitzvah reception, the week before that a retirement party, and three weeks ago a wedding reception. Sean knew the happy wedding couple and had attended as a guest. It felt strange being a guest at a reception held at the inn he managed. He needed to resist the urge not to notice every little detail of how the inn's staff went about their work.

The wedding itself had been a simple and elegant ceremony at St. Mark's Chapel, located next door to the inn. Charlotte Inn often