Sophie Love

A lifelong fan of the romance genre, Sophie Love is thrilled to release her debut romance series, which begins with FOR NOW AND FOREVER (THE INN AT SUNSET HARBOR – BOOK 1)

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Copyright © 2016 by Sophie Love. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright NicoElNino, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY SOPHIE LOVE

THE INN AT SUNSET HARBOR

FOR NOW AND FOREVER (Book #1)

FOREVER AND FOR ALWAYS (Book #2)

FOREVER, WITH YOU (Book #3)

CHAPTER ONE

“Good morning.”

Emily stirred and opened her eyes. The sight that greeted her was the most beautiful she could ever have hoped for: Daniel, framed by the crisp white bedding, a halo of morning sunshine kissing his tousled hair. She took a deep, satisfied breath, wondering how her life had aligned so perfectly. After so many years of hardship, it felt like fate had finally decided to give her a break.

“Morning.” She smiled back, yawning.

She snuggled back down under the covers, feeling cozy, warm, and more relaxed than ever. The quiet calmness of a Sunset Harbor morning was in such stark contrast to the busy bustle of her old life in New York City. Emily could certainly get used to this, to the sound of breaking waves in the distance, to the smell of the ocean, to the gorgeous man lying beside her in bed.

She got up and went over to the large French doors that led out onto the balcony, opening them so she could feel the warm sunshine on her skin. The ocean sparkled in the distance and rays of light illuminated the master bedroom behind her. It had been a dusty ruin when Emily arrived six months ago. Now it was a beautiful cove of tranquility, with white walls and bedding, soft carpeting, a gorgeous four-poster bed, and carefully restored antique bedside tables. With the sun on her face, Emily felt that for once everything was perfect.

“So are you ready for your big day?” Daniel said from the bed.

Emily frowned, her head still too muggy from sleep to comprehend.

“Big day?”

Daniel smirked.

“First customer. Remember?”

Emily’s thoughts took a moment to click into place. But then she remembered that she had her very first guest, Mr. Kapowski, sleeping in the room down the hall. The house she’d been restoring for six months had been transformed from a home into a business, and that meant she had breakfast to make.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Eight,” Daniel replied.

Emily froze.

“Eight?”

“Yes.”

“NO! I overslept!” Emily cried, running back inside from the balcony. She grabbed the alarm clock and shook it angrily. “You were supposed to wake me up at six, you stupid thing!”

She slammed it back down on the bedside table, then rushed to the chest of drawers to find some clothes, flinging sweaters and pants all over the place. Nothing looked professional enough; she’d thrown out all of her office wear from her old life in New York, and everything she owned now was practical.

“Calm down,” Daniel chuckled from the bed. “It’s okay.”

“How is it okay?” Emily cried, hopping around with one leg in her pants. “Breakfast started at seven!”

“And it only takes five minutes to poach an egg,” Daniel added.

Emily froze on the spot, half dressed, her face drawn like she’d seen a ghost. “You think he’ll want his eggs poached? I haven’t a clue how to poach an egg!”

Rather than calming her, Daniel’s words only panicked her further. She wrenched a crumpled lilac sweater from the drawer and pulled it over her head, the static making her hair instantly frizz.

“Where’s my mascara?” Emily cried as she rushed around. “And will you stop laughing at me?” she added, glaring angrily at Daniel. “This isn’t funny. I have a guest. A paying guest! And nothing but sneakers to put on my feet. Why did I throw out all my heels?”

Daniel’s stifled chuckles became full-on belly laughs.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he managed to say. “I’m laughing because I’m happy. Because being with you makes me happy.”

Emily paused, his words striking a chord deep inside of her. She looked over at him, lying languorously like a God in her bed. His was a face you couldn’t stay mad at for long.

Daniel broke their gaze. Though Emily was used to it now, to Daniel clamming up whenever he got too close to his own emotions, it still distressed her. Her own feelings were so obvious as to be practically transparent. That she wore her heart on her sleeve, Emily was in no doubt.

But he sometimes left her floundering. She was never certain with him, and it reminded her almost too painfully of her previous relationships, of the unsteadiness she felt within them, like she was standing on the deck of a rocking boat at sea, destined to never find her sea legs. She didn’t want history to repeat itself with Daniel. She wanted it to be different with him. But experience had taught her that getting what you wanted in life was a rare occurrence.

She turned back to the dresser, quiet now, and put two silver studs in her ears.

“That will have to do,” she said, her gaze flicking away from Daniel’s reflection in the mirror and to herself, her expression reconfigured from a panicked girl into a determined businesswoman.

Emily strode purposefully out of her room to find everything silent. The upstairs corridor was stunning now, with beautiful wall sconces and an amazing chandelier that caught the morning sunshine and refracted shards of light everywhere. The wooden floors had been polished to perfection, adding a rustic yet glamorous touch.

Emily looked down at the door at the end, to the room that had previously belonged to her and Charlotte. Restoring that room had been the hardest thing of all because she’d felt like she was erasing her sister. But all of Charlotte’s things were sitting neatly in a special place in the attic, and Emily’s friend Serena, a local artist, had created some amazing artwork out of her sister’s clothes. Still, she felt a squirming sensation in her stomach knowing that there was a stranger sleeping on the other side of that door, a stranger to whom she now needed to serve breakfast. In all Emily’s imaginings about transforming the house into a B&B, she’d never really daydreamed about what that might actually be like, look like, or feel like. She suddenly felt woefully underprepared, like a child pretending to be a grown-up.

Ensuring she was as quiet as possible, Emily padded along the corridor toward the staircase. The new cream carpet felt luxurious beneath her feet. She couldn’t help but gaze at it adoringly. The transformation of the house had been a real wonder to behold. There was still work to be done – the third floor in particular was an absolute mess, with rooms she hadn’t even set foot in yet; not to mention the outbuildings that contained an abandoned swimming pool, along with a whole plethora of boxes to sort. But what she had achieved thus far, with a little help from the friendly Sunset Harbor locals, still amazed her. The house felt like a friend to her now, one that still had secrets to share. In fact, there was one key in particular that was proving to be a mystery to her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not find what it unlocked. She’d checked everything from desk drawers to wardrobe doors but had still not found it.

Emily went down the long staircase, its banisters now polished and glistening, the fluffy carpet looking resplendent, the brass runners setting off the colors perfectly. But just as she was admiring everything, she noticed that there was a blemish on the carpet – a smudgy, muddy footprint. It was clearly from a man’s boot.

Emily paused on the bottom step. Daniel needs to be more careful when he’s clomping around, she thought.

But then she realized the footprint was pointing away, heading toward the front door. Which meant it had come from upstairs. But if Daniel was still in bed, then the only way the footprint could have gotten there was from her guest, Mr. Kapowski.

Emily rushed to the front door and flung it open. Just the day before, Mr. Kapowski had driven up the newly formed driveway in his estate car and parked. But now his car was gone.

She couldn’t believe it.

He had left.

CHAPTER TWO

Panicking, Emily rushed back into the house.

“Daniel!” she cried up the stairs. “Mr. Kapowski’s gone! He left because I wasn’t up in time to make him breakfast!”

Daniel appeared at the top of the stairs wearing only his pajama bottoms, his broad shoulders and muscular chest on display. His hair was a mess, giving him the air of a hurried schoolboy.

“He probably just went to Joe’s,” he said, trotting down the steps toward her. “You were going on about how amazing the waffles were, if you recall.”

“But I’m supposed to make him breakfast!” Emily cried. “It’s a B and B, not just a B!”

Daniel reached the landing and swept Emily up into his arms, holding her gently around her waist. “Maybe he didn’t realize what the second B stood for. Thought it stood for bath. Or bananas,” he joked. He pressed a kiss into her neck but Emily batted him away and wriggled out of the embrace.

“Daniel, stop fooling around!” she cried. “This is serious. He’s my first ever guest and I wasn’t awake in time to make him breakfast.”

Daniel shook his head and rolled his eyes with mocking affection.

“It’s no big deal. He’ll just be having breakfast down by the ocean instead. He’s on vacation, remember?”

“But there’s an ocean view from my porch,” Emily stammered, her voice growing thin. She sank down onto the bottom step, feeling small, like a child who’d been put on the naughty step, then dropped her head in her hands. “I’m a horrible host.”

Daniel rubbed her shoulders. “That’s not true. You’re just a little unsteady on your feet right now. Everything’s strange and new. But you’re doing fine. Okay?”

He said the last word sternly, almost paternally. Emily couldn’t help but be comforted. She looked up at him.

“Do you want me poach you an egg at least?” she asked.

“That would be delightful.” Daniel smiled. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss onto her lips.

Together they went into the kitchen. The noise of the door opening stirred Mogsy the dog and her pup, Rain, from their slumber in the utility room, just the other side of the barn doors. Emily knew that keeping the dogs out of the kitchen and any parts of the house she needed as the B&B was an absolute must if she didn’t want to get closed down for health and safety reasons immediately, but she felt bad confining the dogs to such a small portion of the house. She reminded herself that it was a temporary situation. She’d been able to have four of Mogsy’s five pups adopted by her friends in town, but Rain, the weak runt, was a harder sell, and no one seemed even remotely interested in taking the mama, who was, to put it gently, an ugly mutt.

Once the dogs were let outside and fed, Emily went back into the kitchen. In the meantime, Daniel had managed to pop out into the garden to fetch this morning’s eggs from Lola and Lolly, the chickens, and brew a pot of coffee. Emily took a mug gratefully and breathed in the aroma, then went over to the large Arga stove – another relic of her father’s she’d had restored – and got to work practicing making poached eggs.

Of all the rooms in the house, the kitchen was one of Emily’s favorites. The poor room had been ravished by time and abandonment when she’d first arrived, then a storm had whipped through it causing further damage, and then the toaster had blown up and caused a fire. The smoke damage had been far more destructive than the actual fire; that had only damaged a shelf and consumed some cookbooks, whereas the smoke had managed to permeate every crack and crevice, leaving streaks of black and the odor of burnt plastic wherever it had touched.