Enter to Win a Print Copy of
SNOWFLAKE BAY
SNOWFLAKE BAY
The Brides of Blueberry Cove #2
Donna Kauffman
Released Sept 29th, 2015
Kensington: Zebra
Interior designer Fiona McCrae has left fast-paced Manhattan to move back home to peaceful Blueberry Cove. But she’s barely arrived before she’s hooked into planning her big sister Hannah’s Christmas wedding—in less than seven weeks. The last thing she needs is for her first love, Ben Campbell, to return to neighboring Snowflake Bay…
As kids, Fiona was the bratty little sister Ben mercilessly teased—while pining after Hannah. But Fi never once thought of Ben like a brother. And that hasn’t changed. Except Fi is all grown up. Will Ben notice her now? More importantly, with her life in a jumble, should he? Or might the romance of the occasion, the spirit of the season, and the gifts of time ignite a long-held flame for many Christmases to come…
Something old might just become something new…
BUY NOW
Amazon | B & N | Google
Play | iTunes | Kobo
Excerpt
There
should be a rule book, she decided. Or at the very least, a
tastefully done pamphlet. The Bridesmaid Rules. Fiona McCrae zipped
along the cove road, too distracted to even glance across Pelican Bay
at the lighthouse perched majestically out on the tip of Pelican
Point. Too much to do. Too much to plan. What on earth had she been
thinking, taking this on?
“A
list of basic, common-sense rules,” she said, warming to the
subject as she made the turn toward the Point. She would have been
quite happy to draw up that list, if anyone asked. She could think of
a half dozen without even trying.
Bridesmaid
Rule No.1: No one should have to be a bridesmaid more than once in a
year. “Especially if
said bridesmaid has yet to become a bride herself.” She smiled
wryly. “And the single-ladies crowd goes wild.” She made the
universal hordes-cheering sound, and held on to her amused smile as
she wove her way ever closer to home base. Hmm. Bridesmaid
Rule No. 2 … “No
bridesmaid should ever be expected, asked, or guilted into being the
wedding planner.” Actually, she thought, that should probably be
Rule No. 1.
If
there was such a rule book, being a bridesmaid twice in six months
and the wedding planner for both events would be in serious breach of
the bridesmaid code. On top of that, this time she was also the maid
of honor. And she had been honored when her older sister had asked
her to play that most special role in her big day. She’d done the
big, sloppy cry, in fact. They both had. And there hadn’t even been
adult beverages involved.
At the
time, Fiona had blamed still being joybuzzed from watching her big
brother tie the knot barely three months earlier. And now,
suddenly—too suddenly to her mind—it was Hannah’s turn to walk
down the aisle.
Weddings
were a happy thing. A thing she should be thrilled about. Downright
jubilant. So what if her family was falling in love all around her
while her life was falling apart?
Okay,
so maybe falling apart was being a bit melodramatic. Except selling
off her award-winning interior design business in Manhattan to move,
lock, stock, and fabric sample binders, back to her hometown of
Blueberry Cove, Maine—all without exactly firming up her new
business model—pretty much felt exactly like that. She still
couldn’t believe she’d really made the leap, taken the plunge.
“Jumped off the cliff,” she added sardonically as she pulled in
between her sister-in-law Alex’s ancient truck and the big red
pickup parked in the small lot outside her childhood home.
Fiona
gasped as she cracked the car door open and the icy coastal breeze
snatched her breath away. She wedged her booted foot out first to
keep the door propped open, trying not to bang it into the truck as
she climbed out, lugging the heavy satchel behind her. It was filled
with an assortment of samples, swatches, wedding books, and magazines
she’d carefully selected, along with a stack of planners she’d
already begun assembling, the combined weight of which felt as if
she’d packed up the proverbial kitchen sink.
She
edged her way out between the vehicles, but didn’t give the truck
much notice otherwise, assuming it belonged to yet another of Alex’s
long list of sub-contractors. The renovation work on the old
lightkeeper’s cottage was the last part of the Pelican Point
restoration project that Alex had been working on for close to two
years now. Fiona did glance out at the Point then and took a moment
to admire the beautifully restored stack of two-hundred-year-old
stone that was the McCrae family lighthouse. But only a moment.
No
time for dawdling! There was a wedding to plan! “In seven freaking
weeks,” she muttered under her breath. Seriously. There should be
rules. Fiona hauled the oversized canvas tote up higher onto her
shoulder and dipped her chin down, tucking it into the scarf she’d
wrapped repeatedly around her neck. It was a vain attempt to keep the
wind that clipped relentlessly over the rocky promontory from
whipping her cheeks to an even more chapped pink than they already
were. In all of her daydreaming about moving back home to the Cove,
how was it she’d managed to so utterly forget what the cold weather
did to her fair skin?
She
needed to get a tube of rehydrating cream to keep in her purse. And
one for her car. And every other bag she carried. If she applied it a
dozen times a day, she might have a slim chance at not resembling a
cherry-cheeked elf at her sister’s December wedding. And that was
another thing. Who gets married at Christmas? Who wants to have their
wedding anniversary compete with Santa?
“More
to the point, who makes the big decision to get married at Christmas,
when it’s already only two weeks away from Thanksgiving?” She’d
tucked her chin so far down behind the heavily wrapped scarf that
speaking out loud caused the wool fibers to laminate themselves to
her heavily balmed lips. Lovely. Just lovely. Bridesmaid
Rule No. 3: It has to be at least above freezing to have a wedding.
And while she was at it, No.
4: There should be at least a six-month minimum wedding planning
rule. Better yet, nine.
Hell, make it a year. “But seven weeks from saying yes to saying I
do? Insanity.” She spluttered at the wool fibers now sticking to
her teeth and tongue, too, as she clambered up the wide stone steps.
It
wasn’t sour grapes, either. These were salient, perfectly rational
points, all of which Fiona planned to put forth to her sister. And
she would. Just as soon as she divested herself of the luggage-sized
satchel she was grappling with, and scraped the scarf off her face.
She’d be completely non-confrontational, of course. She’d merely
explain, in a calm, rational, don’t-piss-off-the-starry-eyed-bride
manner, that it would make so much more sense to have a lovely spring
wedding. Coastal Maine was beautiful in the spring. Well, if you
overlooked the mud that resulted from all the snow melting. Followed
by all the heavy seasonal rains. Not to mention the occasional
crippling late snow storm. Okay, so maybe she’d go the nine-month
minimum wedding planning rule. All the better, really. A summer
wedding would be perfect. Just as it had been for Logan and Alex.
Plotting
how she’d open the delicate-but-had-tohappen conversation, she
banged her way to the side door off the wraparound porch that hugged
the gabled, shake-shingled house that had been home to generations of
McCraes. Surely she could make Hannah see reason. “Knock, knock!”
she called out as she let herself in. She shoved her body and the
tote into the small mudroom, then heard a loud thump overhead, mixed
with muffled voices, followed by laughter.
“Alex?”
she shouted through the scarf, which was still half-draped over the
lower part of her face as she tried to maneuver herself around to
reach for the door that led to the kitchen. There was another thump
overhead and more laughter. Good. She’d recruit Alex into her
change-the-date mission. Strength in numbers.
“
a Rafflecopter giveaway
USA Today bestselling author of the Cupcake Club Romance series,
Donna Kauffman has seen her books reviewed in venues ranging from Kirkus
Reviews and Library Journal to Entertainment Weekly and Cosmopolitan. She lives
just outside of DC in the lovely Virginia countryside, where she is presently
trying to makeover her newly empty nest into something that doesn’t have to
accommodate piles of sports equipment falling out of her coat closet (okay, out
of every closet...and under every bed....), size 13 cleats and sweaty uniforms
cluttering her foyer (and stairwell, and laundry room, and...), and a kitchen
that should have come with a traffic light. And a pantry monitor. (Anyone with
a clever idea on how to repurpose lacrosse sticks into matching reading lamps,
she’s all ears!) When she’s not stripping paint, varnishing an old auction
house find, or trying to avoid bodily injury with her latest power tool
purchase, she loves to hear from readers!
Thank you for hosting!
ReplyDeleteCrystal, Tasty Book Tours