Release date: January 5, 2015
For Cady Eaton, the bright lights of New York City shine far brighter than a town like Scallop Shores, where everyone knows you and nothing new ever happens. She’s finally ready to spread her wings, so when the tourists go home this Labor Day, it’s goodbye coastal living and hello Big Apple.
Travel writer Burke Sanders is knocking around Maine for the summer on a favor to his editor, and Scallop Shores is just a blip on his map. As a reward, he can pick his next assignment, which will be somewhere far more exciting for sure.
But the more time he spends with his local guide, Cady, the more he longs for the things Scallop Shores represents: family, community, and a sense of belonging. She has big dreams and the courage to go after them. Does he have a chance to convince her that everything they need is right in front of them?
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Jennifer DeCuir is a busy writer mom, yarn hoarder and coffee addict. She hates to cook and tries to spend as little time as possible in the kitchen – for which her family is eternally grateful.
An excerpt from Trapped in Tourist Town:
Down the line Cady went, refilling coffee and topping off bellies. It was the same thing every day. Nothing ever changed in this town. So dull. So predictable. Crouching, Cady opened a new box of sweetener packets so she could refill the containers on the counter. The tinkling of the bell over the door signaled a new customer. Deciding to have a little fun with her theory that the town was indeed predictable, Cady called out from her spot on the floor to the woman who came in at this time every morning.
“Good morning, Gladys. Be right with you. How’s that hip this morning? I made your favorite today, raisin bran muffins.”
The long pause was enough to wipe the smug smile from her face. The snickers from the old men lining the counter had her cringing. Then the deliciously deep voice that told her “I love raisin bran muffins” made Cady want to sink beneath the surface of the old cracked linoleum. Her cheeks hot with embarrassment, she rose on shaky legs and faced her unexpected customer.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
Once she got a good look at the source of her mortification, she decided it had been well worth it. This man had city written all over him. In a room full of flannel and denim, his gray slacks, wool blazer, and perfectly crisp white shirt were a welcome sight. His neatly clipped dark hair and baby-smooth cheeks were a direct contrast to all the buzzards turned to him, their own visages long due for a trim and a shave.
“What can I get you?” Cady asked breathlessly.
“I’d like a soy latte—and one of those raisin bran muffins.” He winked. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Look at that, would ya, boys? Someone who’s willing to try one of my fancy coffee drinks.” Cady smirked at the men who made no effort to hide their curious stares.
“Enjoy it while you can. Who knows when you’ll make another?” said one of the regulars.
“Actually,” the stranger interrupted, “if it’s good, I’ll order one every day.” He spoke to the men at the counter but kept his eyes on Cady. Mesmerizing green eyes.
Shaking her head to get herself back on task, Cady rushed to fill his order. Her fingers lightly caressed the espresso machine as she poured, packed, and pushed buttons. Working this fancy coffeemaker, inhaling the heady scent of the beans, and listening to the loud whirs and chuffs as it transformed raw ingredients into a delicious hot treat made her happier than she thought possible. Would it kill the rest of the town to give something different a try? Just once in a while?
Her hand trembled slightly as she set the paper cup on the counter. She shook open a tiny paper bag, snagged a muffin out of the case with a pair of plastic tongs, and slipped it into the bag. Folding the top over, she handed it to the gentleman. He reached out, covering Cady’s fingers with his own. Truth be told, she’d been expecting the touch, but not the jolt that traveled all the way up to tickle her behind the ears. He held her gaze even after he released her hand. Flustered, she broke eye contact.
“Cady’s NY Dream Fund,” he read aloud, gesturing toward the pathetically empty tip jar.
She nodded, irritated with the way her body was reacting as she felt her cheeks signaling a second blush-fest. Stop acting like a ninny. He’s just a man. A gorgeous man who looked like he’d just stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine—or straight out of her fantasies.
Cady’s eyes widened as he stuffed the change she’d handed him into the tip jar. He’d just bought a twenty-dollar muffin and latte! A smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, he gave her another wink and turned to go.
“Gentlemen.” He called the farewell over his shoulder, the bell tinkling overhead once more.
“Them tourists sure are getting here earlier and earlier every year.” Old Man Feeney slowly shook his head.
“No.” Cady narrowed her eyes and tapped her finger to her lips, her gaze focused outside on the man stepping into his fancy foreign car. “This one’s not a tourist. I’m not sure what his story is, but I’ll find out.”