DAMAGED Sweet Tea & a Southern Gentleman Bundle

The Magnolia Inn

A USA Today Bestselling Book

★★★★★"A beautiful story of brokenness, forgiveness, and second chances."" -- Amazon Reviewer

If my mother thought that restoring the run down family inn would break me, she was wrong.
The hardest part of falling in love with the small town of Magnolia and my grumpy handyman is knowing at some point, I'm going to have to sell the inn and leave.

Maggie

My ex-husband left me for my best friend. I’m 36, unemployed, and about to be evicted. My only option is to ask my estranged mother for help. She offers me a deal: fix up the run down family inn on the small island of Magnolia and any of the proceeds I can make off the sale, will be mine to invest.

Determined to start believing in myself, I roll into town with an unhealthy amount of optimism. The only person who is going to stop me, is me. That is, until I meet my grumpy handyman. He has more walls built up around his heart than the three story inn I’m restoring, but I’m determined to break them down. Even if he’s determined to stop me.

Clementine

I meant to leave Magnolia at some point in my life. With a full ride scholarship to Juilliard, my dream was to dance. But Dad got sick and I needed to stay to run the local hardware store. Plus, there’s no way I can rely on my older brother, Archer, who can’t outrun the ghosts of his past.

When Maggie blows into town, I can’t help but feel inspired by her desire to reinvent herself and when she asks for the local handyman, it becomes the perfect opportunity to provide Archer with purpose and perhaps, a little bit of sunshine.

As our friendship grows, I realize just how much I needed a sisterhood. And when I catch Archer smiling, I realize that he needed Maggie as well. I just hope that when the time comes to sell the inn, Maggie fights to stay, because I’m not sure we could handle the heartbreak if she leaves.

The Inn on Harmony Island

A USA Today Best Selling Book

★★★★★ "I’ve binged it in a day, I love these characters, I love their dynamics, I love the mysteriousness of their background and everything in between. I’ve fallen hard for these characters!" --Reviewer

It's the moment that Harmony Island has been waiting for: the reading of Charlotte Cane's will.

After I returned to my small hometown six months ago to attend my estranged grandmother's funeral, I swore I would never go back. That is, until my grandmother's lawyer calls me up. If I don't return to Harmony Island and fulfill my grandmother's stipulations, the generationally owned family inn will be turned over to the state and sold off to the highest bidder--my grandmother's rival and mother to the man who broke my heart, Missy Willis.

I'm not sure I'm strong enough to return home, but I also know, I can't let Miss Willis win. So I pack up my belongings and head for North Carolina.

I'm determined to stay distant, living in the small cottage next to the inn, and keep my head down. But in a small town where everyone knows your name, that becomes difficult. Soon, my past catches up with me and I'm faced with the history I've buried for so long. Just when I reach my breaking point, Miles, the single dad living at the inn, swoops in to my life to rescue me. He was my protector in my childhood, my enemy in my teenage years, and now?

Now, I'm not so sure. Especially when his love for his daughter is contagious, or the way he looks at me when he doesn't know I see him. I'm so confused and I want to run away like I did in the past, but I can't. And when Miles touches me like that...I don't want to.

Luckily, I find a friend in Abigail, the local bookstore owner. She's one of the only residents who doesn't know about my past and seems to be looking for the same thing I am, a place to belong.

Shelby

I’d never noticed the way rain looked as it fell into puddles. The tiny splashes each drop made caused smaller drops to spray around it. The ripples would go for only a moment until another drop would fall, and the effect would happen all over again.

A low murmur of amens drew my focus away from the puddles.

I wrapped my black shawl tighter around my shoulders as I turned to the pastor
who was standing behind my grandmother’s coffin. He was speaking, but in all
honesty, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. My stomach was a bundle of nerves
since I drove the rental car into my small hometown, and I couldn’t sort out
anyone’s words.

I’d left this place 10 years ago, never to return. That was, until
Gran up and passed away. I couldn’t very well not go to her funeral. So,
I packed my carry-on and flew down from New York to face the past that I’d
tried so hard to forget.

And here I was, staring my history straight in the face.

I sighed as I ducked my head down. Miles’s body tightened next to
me when our arms brushed. I glanced over at him to see his jaw muscles flex,
but his gaze never wavered from the pastor’s face.

Was it strange that my ex-stepbrother was more broken up about my
grandmother’s passing than me?

I pursed my lips and turned my attention to my lap.

Yes, that was strange. And sad. And
pathetic.

Even though I wanted to console my ego and convince myself that it
was okay that Miles had cried more times than I had during the funeral
planning. That the funeral director handed him the box of tissues and
never offered them to me. Nothing I could say to myself would fix the cold,
hard heart my past had left me with.

I wanted to cry. I really did. But it was as if my tears were
dried up. There was nothing left. I’d cried so much in the past that it was as
if my body was completely incapable of producing tears. I was broken, and this
was proof that I was never going to be fixed.

My body turned numb as I watched the cemetery owner lower the
coffin into the ground. Even though it was raining, the early spring heat
surrounded us. Mr. Jorgenson, the town’s mayor, wiped his forehead with his
handkerchief before stuffing it back into his suit coat. Most of the other
guests were leaving, sprinting to their cars with their hands or purses over
their heads. The women were slowed by their heels digging into the soft ground.

I glanced down at the dark oak coffin in the ground, wondering for
a moment if Gran would have been disappointed with what we’d chosen. Even
though it had been years since we’d spoken, I still wanted to please her. To
settle her into her final resting place in comfort.

Movement next to me drew my attention over. Miles was standing a
few yards off, shaking hands with the pastor who then nodded and turned to
hurry through the rain to his car.

We were now officially alone.

Miles hesitated; his gaze focused on something in front of him.
But then, as if he could feel my gaze, he turned.

I knew I should look away. Facing Miles—facing Harmony Island—was
the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t drop my gaze. The familiarity in
his stormy blue eyes as they peered into my soul paralyzed me. Miles had been
my protector when we were kids, but then our parents divorced and something in
him changed in high school. Our relationship was never the same. Especially
now, when he seemed closer to my grandmother than I could ever be. That stung
as bad as the wasps from the nest we knocked down as kids.

I shivered and focused on the hole in front of me. I was done
thinking about Miles. I was finished thinking about our past. But as soon as I
saw Miles approach me from the corner of my eye, I sucked in my breath.

I cursed myself. Why had I allowed our gazes to meet? I’d spent
most of my three days here giving short answers and keeping to myself in the
only motel in town. The other lodging options, Harmony Island Inn and the Apple
Blossom B&B, were places I swore I would never go.

Too many bad memories roamed the halls.

“You okay?” Miles’s voice was low and rumbly. I wasn’t sure if it
was because of our history or the situation we were in.

I nodded, tightening my grip on my upper arms. “I’m just glad it’s
over. I’m ready to get out of here.” Miles remained quiet. I peeked over at
him, worried that I’d said the wrong thing. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean.” Miles slipped off his suit coat, folded it
in half, and rested it on the chair behind him. Then he yanked at his tie and
loosened the top two buttons of his white shirt. After ruffling his gelled
hair, he began to unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves. “She never wanted
you to stay away, but she understood why you left.”

His words were like poison to my soul. It was easier to believe
that my grandmother hated me than to think she’d spent her life waiting for me
to return. When I was in New York, I could pretend that we had a mutual
understanding. Our family was toxic. A broken mix of flawed people that fate
stupidly threw together. My grandmother, my mother, and me.

We were the opposite of the three musketeers. We were a mixture of
oil, water, and alcohol. Three pieces of a puzzle that would never fit
together. Now, they were both gone. My senior year of high school, Mom ran away
with her yoga instructor and died in a car crash.

With Gran in the ground, I was the only one alive.

I was the only one left carrying the burden of the failure that
was our small, dysfunctional family.

“I doubt that,” I whispered as I tucked a few strands of hair
behind my ear that the cool ocean breeze had managed to free from the tight bun
at the nape of my neck.

Miles finished rolling his sleeve and glanced over at me. I could
see that he was fighting his response, and the truth was, I didn’t want to hear
it. It was easier when I didn’t think anyone cared.

“So, are you leaving us for good then?”

His question caught me off guard. Leaving us. I hated that
he’d moved into my life, my hometown, and my past like this. If I had my way,
we would sell Harmony Island Inn and never look back.

“Yes,” I responded, nodding my head.

“And the will? Are you going to come back for the reading?”

I took in a deep breath and tipped my head back, closing my eyes.
“We both know that she didn’t leave me anything.”

“We do?”

I opened my eyes, looking up at the white canopy that protected us
from the rain. “Despite what you say, she wrote me out of her life a long time
ago. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

“Shelby—”

“Miles, I’m tired.” I pulled my phone out of my purse and opened
my rideshare app.

Miles stepped forward with his hand extended. For a moment, I
caught what looked like desperation in his gaze before it disappeared. “Why
don’t I give you a ride? I mean, the church organized a dinner and everything.”
His half smile was weak and did little to dissuade me from what I’d already
decided. “The town…misses you.”

I snorted as I looked up at him. Then I shook my head and returned
to filling out my information and sending in the request. “I seriously doubt
that.” I sighed. “I’m going to go back to my hotel room and jump in the shower.
My flight is early in the morning, and I can’t be late.”

“Oh.”

I hated that he seemed disappointed. But I needed him to move on.
Returning to my one-bedroom apartment in New York where I could bury my
memories until they were good and dead was the only thing holding me together.

“Listen, I know my grandmother meant a lot to you, but let’s not
pretend that there’s anything left for me here. Our family is finished.” My
voice cracked at the last word, which threw me off guard.

I hoped Miles didn’t hear my last sentence, but after seeing the
small quirk of his eyebrow, regret filled my chest.

He’d heard.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you for taking care of my grandmother
in the last moments of her life.” I brushed my hands down my black dress,
desperate for something to do. The mixture of my grandmother’s coffin in front
of me and the way Miles was studying me, tugged at the fraying strands that
were barely holding my life together.

But I knew if I didn’t thank him, the pressure to acknowledge that
he was the better grandchild would gnaw at me until I would eventually buy
another plane ticket to come down here and confess it. I wanted this to be the
last trip I made to my godforsaken hometown. I needed to make sure I tied up
all my loose ends with a pretty little bow.

“Of course,” Miles said. “She helped me a lot.” His voice deepened
as he turned to face the hole where my grandmother now lay. His shoulders
slumped, and I suddenly felt sorry.

I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for my grandmother. And I felt
sorry for me.

No one had it perfect. We’d messed up so bad that, sometimes, the
best thing to do was to call a foul and walk away.

And that was what I was determined to do.

My phone dinged, startling us both. I lifted it up so I could see
the screen.

“My ride’s here,” I whispered.

Miles pushed his hands through his hair once more and nodded.
“Yeah, okay.” Then he paused.

I could see in his body language that he wanted to say something
more, and I had a sinking suspicion as to what that was. Problem was, there was
no way I was ready to hear any of it.

“It’s been nice knowing you,” I said. And before I could stop
myself, I reached out and rested my hand on his arm. His warm skin shocked my
fingertips, and I blinked and pulled my hand back, cursing myself for doing
that.

What was wrong with me?

Miles’s gaze dropped down to the spot I had touched before he
brought his gaze up to meet mine. His dark blue eyes had turned stormy, which
caused my stomach to flip-flop.

My phone chimed again, pulling me from my thoughts. I pushed my
purse strap higher up onto my shoulder and then gave him a weak smile.

“Goodbye, Miles,” I said as I stepped around him.

He didn’t say anything as I passed by. It wasn’t until I’d stepped
out into the rain, raising my purse up over my head that I heard his response.

“Goodbye, Shelby.”

Like a dam breaking inside of me, the tears began to flow. I was
grateful for the rain now more than ever. My tears mixed with the water running
down my face as I crossed the cemetery lawn and pulled open the door of the
black SUV.

The man asked for my name, and I managed to get that out. He
didn’t say much else as he put the car into drive and took off down the small,
one-lane road that led to Main Street.

Thankfully, he didn’t ask me what was wrong. Being picked up at a
cemetery seemed to be all he needed to know. Hiding under that excuse, I
allowed the tears that had refused to fall all of this time to flow. I was
hurt. I was broken. And for this moment, I was going to allow myself to be
weak.

As soon as I got back to New York, I’d forget. But for now, I
didn’t have the strength.

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