A New Light: Moon Harbor Series, #5

By Kate McWilliams

It was never supposed to be real.

 

For Dane Michaels, life consists of three things. Friends, work, and his new home. He spent years as a rolling stone, never settling down until he accepted the job of Fire Marshall in Moon Harbor. Now, he's built a life he enjoys. It may be lonely, but it's entirely his, despite how hard the single ladies in town are working to make it theirs.

 

Lucy Ellis is done with romance. After the death of her beloved father, she's made it her life mission to both take care of her mom, and shut down all forms of love. She's seen how it can destroy a tender heart. Despite her mom's wish for her to settle down, she sets her sights on more casual fun instead, refusing to be fate's next victim.

 

When the gossip-mongers in town go too far, Lucy might be just what Dane needs to throw them off his scent. A fake relationship that will stem the tides of small town buzz. What neither expected was the all-consuming chemistry that's unleashed the moment they lock lips. Or the mystery that unravels at their feet.

 

Now they need to decide whether to embrace their feelings, or lose more than just each other.

 

***

 

A New Light is a fake dating, friends to lovers steamy small town romance. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate McWilliams
• Release date: Mar 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224364305

Book preview

one

DANE

There’s nothing like a punch to the face to wake you up. I guess an Americano from my favorite coffee shop did the trick too, but right now I was working with controlled violence.

Shit man, you’re not even trying today.

I pivoted to the left, ducking my head just in time to miss another punch, but miscalculated. Saint was only feigning right and instead of going for my face again, he sent a powerful jab straight to my ribs.

I hit the mat before I realized what happened, and when I opened my eyes, Saint stood over me, his face alight with amusement. A part of me considered just staying right there, lying supine on the center ring mat of Punch Em Out for the rest of my life.

You still alive down there?

Possibly, I mumbled as I took the hand he offered and let him help me up. My friend and sparring partner Saint Adams just happened to be the best newly-retired MMA fighter in the country. And while I knew I couldn’t keep up with him at his best, I was usually a closer match in the cage than what my performance today showed. And he knew it, too, which was why he was looking at me funny.

You wanna tell me where your head went?

I hopped down off the mat and led us toward the locker room at the back of the gym. Pushing through the door, I cast a glance back at him.

I don’t want to talk about it.

Ooh mysterious.

Hardly. More like embarrassing.

Everyone has off days.

Not that, I mean where my head is.

I grabbed a water bottle out of my duffle bag and took a long room-temperature sip. Avoidance wouldn’t work forever, but I wasn’t about to go into this conversation with eagerness.

Saint’s arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the sink. If his raised eyebrows could speak, they would have said come the fuck on.

Fine. I dropped the bottle back into my bag and grabbed a towel. It’s that article in the Gazette. It’s all anyone can talk about and it’s driving me nuts.

I expected him to laugh in my face, make fun of me, join the chorus like the rest of this ridiculous town I’ve come to love—though, admittedly, that emotion is questionable at the moment. But Saint didn’t do any of that. He shook his head slightly and shrugged his left shoulder in question.

What article?

Come on, I replied, entirely sure that he was messing with me and about to pile on the mountain of shit I’d been getting from everyone at work about this.

Saint blinked his eyes and tilted toward me, waiting for me to explain.

You serious?

"Are you? I have no idea what you’re talking about."

My eyes narrowed at him as I considered this was all a ploy. Was he in on it with the other guys? Were they going to jump out from behind the toilet stalls and rag on me again?

I must have looked paranoid, because Saint took pity on me.

Listen, man, I’ve never had time to even glance at the Moon Harbor Gazette, and I surprised Landry with a trip to Niagara Falls. We’ve been out of town all weekend. So if something weird went down involving you, I’m clueless.

I felt my shoulders release their tension and shook my head at myself.

Mrs. McClintock started a new series in the Gazette and it went down like gangbusters.

A new series?

Yeah. The paper isn’t really filled with much news most of the time, so they have all these dumb community columns. Hers, because she’s the town’s biggest busybody, is called Harbor Hottie of the Month and it goes into detail about why she chose the eligible bachelor.

Oh god.

I was chosen for the inaugural column.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the copy that mysteriously appeared on my front porch a few days before, slapping Saint in the abs with it. He didn’t hesitate to find the article.

‘Our very first Harbor Hottie of the Month knows a thing or two about hot, hot heat.’ Oh this is amazing, Saint said as his eyes lit up in laughter. ‘My very select committee has chosen none other than Moon Harbor Fire Marshal Dane Michaels.’

The headache I’d been nursing all week had returned, this time on the heels of being hit in the face by a world champion fighter. I briefly considered drowning myself in my jetted tub. It would be a relaxing way to go.

Hey, you didn’t bother telling me I was mentioned.

My brain was trying to scrub the whole thing from existence.

Saint’s large frame hunched over as he laughed. My eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, you can laugh because you’re not being stalked. I had three women just yesterday show up at the Fire Station asking for me. The guys all lost their shit fawning all over them and the Chief had to reprimand them for almost being late on a call.

And on Saturday, I continued, ignoring Saint’s heaving laughs, I was getting takeout from the pub when I was swarmed by Sally Anderson and her girl gang. I barely made it out of there alive.

Saint shuddered at that, and it didn’t surprise me. Sally was an unashamed flirt and had tried to take a bite out of Saint when he’d first moved here.

It can’t be all that bad.

Are you hearing yourself? I nodded my head toward the paper in his hands. Go ahead, make your jokes. But keep reading.

‘Friends with world famous hottie Saint Adams, Dane can often be found honing his lickable muscles⁠—’

God, nevermind. Please stop reading.

‘—and tight physique, by partaking in MMA training at the Punch Em Out boxing gym, and running along the promenade. Make sure you’re up early, ladies, as he likes sunrise runs and can often be found starting his route at the corner of Harbor and Pine Streets.’

I slunk down onto the bench and dropped my head in my hands.

This is funny as hell, but dropping your routine like that is a little reckless.

Yeah, no shit.

I mean, it’s very complimentary, Saint said, his face filled with mirth.

Yeah, it’s hilarious. Embarrassing, but hilarious.

So, what’s the problem?

You know how many women suddenly took up early morning runs after this was printed? A whole fucking lot.

Yikes.

That’s why I parked in the alley and asked you to let me in from the back door. And look, I can appreciate some interest from an attractive woman, but interest from dozens? Non-stop? Everywhere I go? It’s exhausting and pretty weird if I’m being honest. I’m not giving any of them a second of my time, but they keep trying. Apparently, the Gazette’s Facebook Group has turned it into a fun little game.

I’m starting to see the issue.

I can’t go anywhere without a bunch of groupies showing up. Suddenly, I remembered who I was talking to. I jumped to my feet. Hey, you have experience with that.

Uh uh. Saint held up his hands and shook his head. I always had security when I needed it. I don’t deal with groupies. Your problem is, you’re too nice.

Wha—why do you say that?

Because I know you.

I huffed out a breath.

Look, I’ve dealt with my share of women trying to get close to me, but like I said, I had security when I needed it. And I’ve always had a grumpy demeanor, so I didn’t care if I offended anyone. Anyway, people could usually sense I wasn’t interested in being approached. Not only is this article telling people to approach you, it’s…

He stopped and looked at me, and was I crazy or was that pity on his face?

What?

You’re like a fucking puppy dog.

"I am not a puppy dog."

Saint’s lips twisted like he was trying his best to hide a smirk.

You’re kind and polite and happy all the damn time. Girls in town know this, so they won’t be expecting you to shoo them away. You’re too nice to do that.

Maybe he had a point. But still… I don’t feel too nice. I’m close to my limit, man.

Watch out for the next big headline, ‘Harbor Hottie Loses His Cool,’ he said, spreading his hands in the air for effect.

You make jokes, but this damn paper has made my quiet life miserable this past week.

"This town is always interested in the now. As soon as something new happens, you’ll be old news."

I sure as hell hope you’re right. Because I can’t take much more of this. I woke up to two women I’d never seen before fighting on my lawn over who made the better muffins.

Muffins?

Yeah, they each left a plate of muffins on my porch.

Damn, you could have shared.

I threw them away. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were laced with something.

What, like a love potion?

Joke all you want, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Saint laughed and slapped my back.

Trust me. It’ll blow over soon. I’m sure of it.

I don’t believe you, but I know you’re probably right. In the meantime, I’ll be hiding out at your place. It’s so big and secluded, no one will find me there.

Fine, but bring muffins, I’m craving some now.

Yeah, yeah.

But it did not blow over soon.

two

LUCY

Luce, your order’s been up for five minutes.

Shit. Gotta go, Kirby. See ya later, I added with a wink and a sashay of my hips. I turned around to give Landry a secret look of contrition. It wasn’t often I fucked up at work, but my best friend Landry was my boss now, and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to put me in my place if I was being an idiot.

And at the moment, I was being an idiot.

We hustled off the floor of the Anchorage, the upscale—but still relaxed—bar and lounge we worked at. As we rounded the corner to the back of the house, I rounded on her, attempting to put her off.

Okay, I’m sorry I lost track of time, I’ll grab the order and work my charm on table fifteen.

Landry’s eyebrows knitted together, but she dismissed my apology with a casual wave of her hand.

Whatever, I don’t care about that. She looked both ways, making sure no one was in earshot. What are you doing sweet-talking Kirby O’Donnell? He’s barely out of the womb.

Oh don’t be like that. Women can be older than the men in relationships nowadays, you know.

"Of course they can, but Kirby?"

She had a point, but I was trying to ignore it.

Kirby, who had turned twenty-one a mere three weeks ago, still looked like he could play for the Moon Harbor High marching band. But I wasn’t about to concede Landry’s point.

Kirby is a fine young man, I said, sniffing my indignation.

Oh, now I’m really worried about you. Landry lifted the back of her hand to my forehead. Are you feeling okay?

Yes, nurse. I’m fine. Let me go grab that order, I said, giving her the same wink I gave Kirby. She rolled her eyes and turned in the opposite direction, probably to find her boyfriend—our boss—Saint Adams.

I watched for a moment as she pranced off, feeling warmth in my heart at how happy she looked. Landry had been my best friend our whole lives but I had never seen her this blissful. And as much as I didn’t want to give credit to a man, I knew it was mostly because of her new love.

When Saint, a famous MMA fighter, had first bought the Anchorage, we all figured he’d hire a full-time manager and go back to Boston or New York and continue fighting. But he had other plans, realizing his heart wasn’t in it anymore. And Landry had been an extra reason for him to stay. The most important reason.

When he promoted her to manager, he made it clear that despite him wanting her, the job was hers whether she returned his feelings or not. She earned it by working hard and proving herself, something I’d always known she could and would do. But we all know that sometimes men in positions of power liked to take advantage. Luckily for Landry, Saint wasn’t that type of man. The way he went about the promotion made me a fan, and the way he treated Landry once he won her over, made me a friend. Saint might be my boss, but he’s so much more now.

Landry always joked that I was lovesick. I did my fair share of flirting and dating and of course, playing around. But the real truth was becoming more and more obvious to me. Because as I watched my best friend experience real love for the first time, I was surprised to find I wasn’t at all envious. I was thrilled for her, ecstatic for the happiness she had found. But when I thought about my own life, a sense of clarity hit me that I’d never experienced before.

I was more resigned than ever to stay away from love at all costs.

The night passed in a blur of thudding bass and hops-scented frat bros. Friday nights were usually busy, but this weekend in particular already had the town stretched to its limits by the annual Moon Harbor Regatta. The boat racing event brought a huge influx of tourists—most often athletic and rich—all vying for the trophy and partying the weekend away. Or both, I thought as I side-stepped one of the frat bros, adorned in a pink polo and matching Bermuda shorts.

Not so fast, doll. I need another drink, bro said, as he slid his tan arm around my shoulders in a practiced motion.

I rolled my head to the side to look up at him, a curated smile firmly in place, like always. He was taller than most men, and the back of my head leaned against his arm by the time my eyes found his face.

What’ll it be, sailor?

He grinned, cocky and headstrong, like they all were.

Jack Daniels. Double. Neat. He emphasized each syllable with an eyebrow raise and a dimpled smirk. He looked young, but not as young as Kirby. And decidedly more masculine, despite the pink get-up. I returned his smirk with one of my own, flitting my tongue against my bottom lip for just a moment, and yep, his eyes went straight for it like I knew they would.

Coming right up.

I twisted out of his grasp and twirled away with the practiced ease of a Cirque du Soleil acrobat. Sometimes that’s how I felt. Tumbling around, spinning, side-stepping, putting on a show. A decidedly less impressive show than professional performers in Vegas, but a show nonetheless.

Hey Juicy Lucy, you give up on Kirby already? Sawyer, the Anchorage’s head bartender, asked as I slid past him, swinging my hips to the beat. When I approached the side of the main bar to ring in Sailor’s order at the iPad terminal, he met me on the other side, waggling his eyebrows.

Kirby knows the score.

He does, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting more. The kid’s had a crush on you since you won Miss Moon Harbor your senior year. Sawyer leaned against the bar and casually glanced over to where Kirby sat across the room, nursing his second beer. He must have still been in diapers.

I lifted a shoulder. What can I say? They call it a crush for a reason.

Sawyer’s face looked pained as he pretended to be shot by an arrow to the heart.

That’s cold, Luce.

Why are you so gossipy tonight anyway? Shouldn’t you be making drinks?

I am right now, in fact, he said, swiping the receipt from the order I’d just placed.

Double of Jack? For that dude? His head swung in Sailor’s direction, and I followed his line of sight to find the man in question filming what looked to be a fit check video with his group of friends.

Ugh. I had to deflect. What? That’s hardly the weirdest drink order I’ve taken tonight.

Nah, that guy drinks vodka crans. Easy. Maybe a White Claw when he’s feeling frisky.

Oh my god, you’re such a snob.

I’m not a snob, Jack Daniels isn’t even high end. I just know for a fact bro can’t hang. You serve him this double and watch him try to knock it back. Guarantee he won’t.

I thought you told me you’re supposed to sip whisky anyway.

Yeah, not with Jack. Besides, you think he knows that? Sawyer asked, gesturing with a jerk of his head.

I felt my brows knit together as I watched Sailor goof around. He didn’t look like a bad guy. Just a simple one. Why would he order it then?

Sawyer’s eyebrows crinkled together as he gave me a look of friendly condescension. Luce. Come on.

Oh no, that wasn’t for me. I know that’s what you’re thinking, but no one who looks like that, and races boats in their spare time is so hard-pressed for female attention that they’d order a strong drink to impress the waitress.

You give men too much credit.

Hmm. Maybe I did.

Well it doesn’t matter. I’m not easily impressed.

I don’t know if I’d go that far.

Hey! I tossed my rag at him, hitting him square in the face, and causing him to have another fake fit of injury.

Children, we still have quite a full house. Like she often did nowadays, Landry appeared to my left out of nowhere, but I’d gotten used to it.

I turned to her, motioning with my thumb toward Sawyer.

Tell that to this guy. I’m waiting for my order.

It’s coming, Juicy.

Sawyer flipped the bottle of Jack in his hand before pouring a perfect six-count of liquor. He was one of those perfectly impressive bartenders, and every time I got a moment to watch him work, it made me swoon a little—in a completely platonic way.

Rough around the edges, with lightly tousled brown hair and tattoos visible from his crisp white sleeves rolled up his forearms, he was a patron’s dream. He moved with the same skills as my acrobatic ones. Sliding from one side of the bar to the other, spinning around with a masculine grace, flipping bottles for show and boredom. The bad boy mixologist.

If we thought of each other as anything other than honorary siblings, we would have probably hooked up years ago and ruined our friendship. But the truth was, I valued him more than I let on. He was one of the few men I knew I could rely on when it really counted.

A loud crash from the other side of the bar stopped my train of thoughts. One of the new barbacks had dropped a bus tub, sending the glasses to the ground in a shattering clatter. After a second of shocked silence came the usual round of applause. The bar back—Richie, I think—dropped to the ground to pick it up, but even in the dim mood lights of the bar, I could see his poor face was turning as red as a tomato.

Sawyer set the drink down on my tray with a shake of his head, then went to help Richie. Landry looked pained, as that was the second bus tub full of dishes that had dropped and shattered in two days.

I can distract everyone if you want. Hop up on the bar and do a little dance.

I winked and Landry rolled her eyes, but I caught the corner of her lip turn up as she bumped me with her hip. I knew I caused her grief here and there with my shenanigans, but I always showed up and worked hard. I simply did it with a little more pizazz than some of the others. And I never took the fact that she was my boss now for granted.

Landry looked at her watch. Aren’t you supposed to be finished?

"Yeah, I was just doing