Love, Lies and Fireflies: a Blueberry Point story: Blueberry Point Romance

By D.E. Malone

She thought their kiss marked a beginning. Then he never called. 

 

The last time Farra Hall stepped foot in Blueberry Point Lodge, a guy with a quirky necktie and all the right dance moves stopped her in her tracks. They shared a kiss right out of a fairy tale before they said goodbye. He promised he'd call, but that call never came. 

 

Now she's back in town to help her friend ready the lakeshore inn before the grand opening celebration. But when the guy she fell head over heels for reappears, Farra's resentment threatens to ruin the happy occasion.

 

Trey Merrick's life these last few months has been full of regrets. Getting into the car that fateful night is one. His biggest mistake, though, was not calling the woman he met at the Stetman wedding. After his life took a tragic turn, he let foolish pride keep him away, but he's not going to make that mistake twice. 

 

Will Trey finally get his chance to make things right, or has time doused the spark that lit up both their lives that one magical night?

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Malone
• Release date: Jun 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781951516079

D.E. Malone

D.E. Malone writes sweet contemporary romances and is the author of the Hearts in Hendricks and Blueberry Point Romance series. She loves traveling to places off the beaten path which inspire the small-town settings in her stories. When she's not writing, she enjoys reading, hiking, and continuing her quest for the holy grail of bakeries. Visit her website at https://www.demalone.com to subscribe to her newsletter or find her on Facebook, Pinterest and Instagram at dmalonebooks.

Book preview

Chapter One

Farra shielded her eyes from the sun-kissed day to get a better view of Blueberry Point Lodge. Those chimneys—all five of them—soared to the heavens. And all those windowpanes. Good grief.

The word castle came to mind. So did work. There was bound to be a ton of upkeep on a place like this.

Movement on the second-floor balcony drew her attention. Her childhood friend, Darcy Stetman, leaned over the ornate balustrade and waved.

Don’t just stand there, she called. Get in here so I can give you a hug.

Farra dropped her hand. Will the butler greet me, or do I just walk in?

Darcy laughed. Sean took the day off, she said. He’s been complaining that his boss works him too hard lately. She pointed at herself for emphasis and rolled her eyes.

Farra continued up the walkway, passing a row of boxwoods and large metal sculptures of a bear and a heron in the small garden on either side of the front door. Her hand was on the doorknob when it flew open and Darcy rushed to embrace her, knocking her back a step. Some things never changed.

The last time she’d seen Darcy and her husband, Sean, was at their wedding in October, seven short months ago. They’d been in the middle of massive renovations to the inn but had made it habitable enough to host their special day and lodge some guests.

Inside the foyer, Farra looked her up and down. Marriage seems to suit you. You look amazing.

Darcy waved her hand. It’s this house. I barely have time to eat. Something always needs cleaning or fixing or polishing.

It’s only going to get busier. When’s the first booking?

Five days, Darcy said, her eyes widening. I’ve purposefully put myself into a state of denial or else I might start hyperventilating. Let me show you to your room so you can dump your stuff before others start showing up.

Are you sure you’re ready for this? She took in her surroundings, pivoting in a full circle. The foyer with its double-wide staircase opened up to two large rooms. A bank of floor-to-ceiling windows and two sets of French doors offered a view of Lake Superior that Farra would bet was one of the prettiest on the North Shore.

Darcy giggled. If it’s too much I’ll say we’re booked.

Farra laughed. That would be me every day.

She followed Darcy upstairs to the first room with a wall of windows and a four-poster canopy bed.

This is amazing. I feel like I’m royalty. Farra caressed the lavender sateen coverlet. A coffee mug with the inn logo rested on a stenciled tea tray in the middle of the bed, along with tea bags, wrapped chocolates, and a bar of lavender soap. Darcy’s brows shot up when Farra looked back at her. Nice touch.

Darcy gave her a satisfied smile. You think? I hope it’s not too over the top. I wouldn’t care so much about soap and tea, but Sean’s mom insisted. Chocolate, on the other hand…

Farra set her bag on the luggage rack next to a Queen Anne chest of drawers.

How is Sean handling the prospect of hosting strangers in his house?

Darcy laughed. He’s fine with it. Funny, I never would have guessed he’d be so on board with running an inn, but sometimes he seems less anxious about it than I do.

That’s cool, collected Sean for you. I’m sure he’s a hotbed of nerves underneath the surface.

Darcy ran her hand across the top of the chest of drawers before looking at her palm then brushing it off on her hip. Right? He’s good at hiding it. Me, not so much.

Farra drifted toward the windows, the panorama of the lake drawing her. An amazing view.

They stood in front of the windows looking out on the grounds. Beyond the property, the lake was a surreal landscape, the sun skirting across its surface. Farra wanted to get outside and walk through the grounds’ abundant gardens. It would give her a chance to stretch her legs after the four-hour drive.

I saw you when you pulled in. I don’t think you had that trailer last fall, did you?

Bought it shortly after. I decided to give up the lease on my apartment in Marquette and downsize. Now I’m portable.

Portable. Wow, said Darcy, shaking her head. I’m a little jealous. And it’s adorable, by the way.

It was a little necessary. I lost one of my biggest sponsorships. The company filed for bankruptcy.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be. Farra crossed her arms, stilling looking at the lake. It’s helped me focus on what’s really important. I’ve ditched some bad habits.

"You have bad habits? Miss Perfection? Darcy pursed her lips and gave her a skeptical look. Like what?"

Hoarding, for one. My apartment was limited on space, but that didn’t stop me from collecting stuff. Jack doesn’t allow me to save junk.

Who’s Jack? Darcy looked at her sharply.

"My trailer. I named him Jack Kerouac. You know, after the On the Road author?"

Darcy tilted her head back, laughing. You named your trailer? That’s classic.

I thought you’d appreciate that. Farra drew closer to the window and eyed the cluster of gardens