Camilla Stewart desperately needs to make a fresh start: her despicable ex-fiance stole her life savings, embezzled from her job, and then disappeared without a trace--leaving behind nothing but his eight-year-old son, Oliver.
But when she arrives in the little beach town of Pajaro Bay, she immediately runs into local sheriff's captain Ryan Knight, and finds escaping her past won't be as easy as she planned.
Because Ryan soon realizes that Camilla and little Oliver may be the only people alive who can identify a serial killer... and they are next on his hit list.
In this first entry in the Pajaro Bay series, readers are welcomed to the charming little village, with its cast of quirky characters and its funky cottages overlooking the sun-drenched coast.
The Pajaro Bay novels have won dozens of awards, including the Romance Writers of America®'s prestigious Golden Heart® Award for Romantic Suspense. Readers praise the series for its "sweetness," its "excellent characterization," and say the books are "adorable, lively and like a warm hug."
Read an excerpt from The Honeymoon Cottage:
Ryan Knight pulled the department's SUV into a parking slot in front of The Junque Shoppe. He parked next to a rusty red convertible that had seen better days. He got out and slammed the door shut. To protect and to serve, the logo on the door said.
Mabel Rutherford was a business owner in Pajaro Bay, so his job was to protect and to serve her. He sighed. Mabel Rutherford could make anyone wish he were a fisherman instead of the officer in charge of the Pajaro Bay Sheriff's Substation. But he was responsible for this sleepy little beach town and all its eccentric citizens. For two more weeks. Then he was out of here, and Mabel Rutherford and all the rest were on their own. They'd be better off that way--and so would he.
He stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk leading to the row of storefronts.
In the waning afternoon sun, the light glistened on the crystal and carnival glass in the junk store's windows. He remembered Angie explaining about carnival glass, her eyes lighting up as she went on about maker's marks and the hunt for particular pieces, and the giggle in her voice when she came home after finding that one weird-looking gravy boat she'd been so crazy about. He almost smiled at the memory from a year--a lifetime--ago. He wondered if she'd ever laugh like that again. He knew he wouldn't.
He took a deep breath and let it out. He thought he'd be able to stay here after she left. But the past lurked all around him, haunting him with every step. He needed to let go. Let go of thinking about a past he couldn't change. Let go of caring. Stop thinking he could make a difference and just move on.
He pushed open the purple shop door and walked in, prepared for the worst Mabel Rutherford could conjure.
He automatically surveyed the premises: Ms. Rutherford behind the counter, a little boy reading in the far corner, then he stopped. A curvy woman in a flowered shirt and jeans stood silently watching him. He scanned her figure automatically. She was not carrying a gun--no room to hide it under those clothes. But just the same, every nerve in his body came alive at the sight of her.
The window with the carnival glass was behind her. The sun slanted through the glass and turned her curly red hair into a halo around her round face. Her eyes were green, like fresh-mown grass in the springtime, and her skin was pale, with a blush of pink like the mother-of-pearl inside a shell. She had freckles on her nose. The freckles and wide eyes in the round face gave her an almost childlike look--lost and alone, even frightened. He felt the urge to take her in his arms and tell her it was going to be all right. He brushed that thought aside quickly, surprised at himself for the jolt of emotion the woman brought out in him....