Adrift in Cheshire Bay

By H.M. Shander

She’s ready to surprise her boyfriend. Turns out she’s going to be the one in shock.

Tonight’s the night. Cedar couldn’t be more excited to announce to her long-time sweetheart, at their anniversary dinner, that she’s expecting. That is until a mysterious woman shows up at their work, looking for Mitch, to introduce him to a young boy; their son.

With her plans up in smoke, Cedar doesn’t know what to do next. When Mitch shuts down and refuses to discuss his past, she risks everything to uncover details that had changed her future. In the middle of it all, her soulmate discloses how he never wanted kids. Heartbroken, Cedar is forced to plan a new future.

But Mitch means the world to her. Can she forgive and forget? Will she move on without him? Or will she always be adrift in a sea of what could’ve been?

Readers will fall for the spunky Cedar, and pine for the two lovers to overcome their misfortunes and find the HEA they both deserve. Scroll up and one click this standalone within the interconnected book series today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H.M. Shander
• Release date: Jul 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781999234393

H.M. Shander

USA TODAY bestselling author H.M. Shander is a star-gazing, romantic at heart who once attended Space Camp and wanted to pilot the space shuttle, and not just any STS – specifically Columbia. However, the only shuttle she operates in her real world is the #momtaxi; a reliable electric car that transports her two kids to school or work and all their various sporting events. When she’s not commandeering LeBolt, you can find the elementary school librarian surrounded by classes of children as she reads the best storybooks in multiple voices. After she’s tucked her endearing kids into bed and kissed her trophy husband goodnight, she moonlights as a contemporary romance novelist; the writer of sassy heroines and sweet, swoon-worthy heroes who find love in the darkest of places.If you want to know when her next heart-filled journey is coming out, you can follow her on Twitter(@HM_Shander), Facebook (hmshander), or check out her website at www.hmshander.com.

Book preview

Adrift in

CHESHIRE BAY

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

H.M. SHANDER

Return to Cheshire Bay

Published by H.M. Shander

Copyright 2021 H.M. Shander

Return to Cheshire Bay is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals, are entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored, in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written consent of the author of this work. She may be contacted directly at [e-mail], subject line ‘Permission Requested.’

www.hmshander.com

Cover Design: Eleanor Lloyd-Jones @ Shower of Schmidt Designs

Editing: PWA & IDIM Editorial

Shander, H.M., 1975—Return to Cheshire Bay

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

Epilogue

Awake in Cheshire Bay – sneak peak

Christmas in Cheshire Bay – sneak peak

Dear Reader

Other books

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter One

I clicked off the walkie-talkie and walked to the bank of full-length windows. Flight 145 inbound from Seattle was on visual approach, and I was prepared to greet the three passengers aboard the Cessna 140. Off to the sidelines was the love of my life – Mitch Macomber, the airport mechanic, baggage handler, and all-around sweetheart of a sex-god.

Some say they’d never be able to work with their boyfriends, but I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my day. We’d drive in to work together, go our separate ways – him to the garage, me to the front desk as the face of West Coast Air and Cheshire Bay Airport – and we’d cross paths occasionally before heading to our home at the centre of our tiny village.

Flight 145 had touched down. Mitch’s voice crackled on the walkie-talkie.

Check.

Cheshire Bay typically had two flights a day, which given the size of the town, was quite a lot. Most were intra-island, but occasionally, a few times a week there was a flight to the mainland, either Vancouver or Seattle. Over the summer months, our lovely little village swelled a hundred times its size as visitors drove across Vancouver Island to visit our impressive beaches and ride the amazing waves. Those with a little more money, caught the more expensive charter flights.

The inbound flight from Seattle was the last of the day, finally.

Tonight, Mitch and I were going to celebrate our fifth anniversary at one of the seaside restaurants I’d managed to secure a reservation at. September was still a busy tourist month, but the Harbour Chophouse saved ten percent of its capacity for the locals during the summer rush. Tonight, we’d be one of two tables. Lucky us.

My drop-dead gorgeous guy was laser focused as he walked over in his grease-stained coveralls, baggy enough to fit the both of us, and popped the door where the luggage was stowed. With ease, he set the suitcases on the tarmac near the stairs unfolding from the plane.

I loved the tourists and drummed my fingers on the metal doorframe as I eagerly awaited their descent off the plane and over to me, where I could inquire about their flight and if they needed any information about the location of the motels and local amenities. Since I was the first person they greeted, I had to have the knowledge about everything in Cheshire Bay, as well as the two nearest towns, which were larger, but tucked back on the highway away from the coast.

The tourists grabbed their suitcases and walked my way, the idyllic maple and elms trees blowing lightly behind them just off the runway.

My excitement on overdrive, I inhaled a mixture of the fresh salty sea air combined with the robust stench of jet fuel, as I propped open the huge glass door for the incoming passengers, water bottles in hand.

Good afternoon, and welcome to Cheshire Bay. I gave the first guy, an older man with a hat and cane, his complimentary bottle.

He tipped his hat in greeting and declined the cold water.

Did you have a good flight, sir?

His colouring was great, so I imagine the pilot – Eric Morris, one of my best friends, had a smooth ride with little to zero turbulence.

Great, yeah.

Do you have a ride picking you up, or shall I call for one for you? Our selection was minimal, not at all like a major urban area.

Julia’s got me. That’s my granddaughter. D’ya know her? He grinned a toothless smile and pointed to the door, where a young lady around my age was entering.

No, I’m sorry, sir, I do not. It made me smile. Yes, we were a small town, a village really, but I didn’t know everyone. Most though. Enjoy your stay, sir.

I turned my attention to the mother and son still on the tarmac and repositioned the last water bottles.

The little guy seemed to be struggling with his bag, as it kept tipping to the one side when he pulled it, likely to the contents shifting during flight.

The mom had a tight-lipped smile and a firm grip on the child’s hand. I strode towards them.

Can I be of any assistance? Specifically, I looked at the little boy, who appeared as though he’d slept most of the quick flight. I can carry your suitcase.

No. The mother said with a sharp bite and followed it with a sigh. We’ll be fine.

My gaze fell to the little guy who continued to walk, stop, right his suitcase and do it all over again.

It’s really no trouble, ma’am, and it’s a bonus service we offer here at Cheshire Bay. I bent down to take the handle.

Fine, thank you.

I hunched down to the little boy’s height. How about I take care of this until we’re inside and you take care of this for me?

The little guy yawned and eagerly let go of his suitcase while embracing the cool bottle of water.

With ease, I retracted the handle and carried it. How was the flight in from Seattle?

Her perfume, possibly a Coco Chanel by the nice way it smelled, blew in my direction. Uneventful, which is always a plus.

We entered the building, and I closed the door, scanning on the whereabouts of Mitch and Eric. Eric was walking the length of the plane, likely checking for any forgotten items, and Mitch was giving the underside a thorough inspection. The plane was older, but it passed every inspection as Mitch was proactive in his approach, rather than reactive when there was a problem. Eric put his full trust in his best friend.

Eric hopped down the stairs and over to the mother and child. I think someone left something behind. Eric wiggled a little white stuffed bear. Is this yours?

Thank you, the mother said, and scolded her son. Jackson, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times. Stop leaving your things everywhere.

He hung his head full of dark wavy hair.

Eric hunched down in front of the boy and waved the toy side-to-side. What’s his name?

Mr. Fluffy.

Eric shook the teddy-bear’s hand. It was lovely to have met you, Mr. Fluffy, and as much fun as it is flying, I think your friend Jackson would like you to stay with him.

That put a smile on the little boy’s face, and he hugged Mr. Fluffy.

We’re all good now. Eric tipped his hat and walked over to my desk, grabbing the binder to detail his flight.

Is there anything I can assist you with? Do you have a ride, or can I call one for you? I softened my tone, while still trying to be friendly, yet not in your face.

The mother sighed, glancing around, a nervous smile playing on her lips. Actually, yes. I’m looking for a Mitch Macomber. You wouldn’t by chance happen to know of him? Heard he works around here.

My heart skipped a beat, and I glanced over to Eric, who popped his head up from his writing. Why yes, I do.

Did I call for Mitch, or ask her to leave her number? This was highly unusual.

Her head tipped back a little and under her breath, she whispered, Thank God. Her shoulders sagged in relief. Do you have a contact number for him?

I’m sorry, ma’am. That information is confidential, and I am unable to provide that to you. However, if you leave your number, I can forward it to him.

Does he work here? Her eyes darted around the small, enclosed section of the building.

I swallowed down a hard lump and was about to ask Eric what he suggested, but Mitch opened the door and strolled inside, washing