Where Two Hearts Meet (Prince Edward Island Dreams Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Liz Johnson

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185 pages

English

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Evocative Contemporary Romance Set in a Charming Inn on Beautiful Prince Edward IslandIn her kitchen at the Red Door Inn, executive chef Caden Holt is calm, collected, and competent. But when her boss asks her to show off their beautiful island to impress a visiting travel writer and save the inn, Caden is forced to face a world much bigger than her kitchen--and a man who makes her wish she was beautiful.Journalist Adam Jacobs is on a forced sabbatical on Prince Edward Island. He's also on assignment to uncover a story. Instead he's falling in love with the island's red shores and Caden's sweets. When Caden discovers Adam isn't who she thought he was, she realizes that the article he's writing could do more than ruin the inn's chances for survival--it might also break her heart.Readers will discover hope for the hurting, joy for the broken, and romance for the lonely at the enchanting Red Door Inn.

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	18 octobre 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493405176
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0360€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2016 by Liz Johnson
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-0517-6
Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Published in association with Books & Such Literary Management.
Endorsements
“ Where Two Hearts Meet is a delightful read. Liz Johnson transports readers to Prince Edward Island, writing a romance that reminds us that a satisfying life requires us to be brave—not perfect—and that God’s lavish grace overcomes our deepest regrets.”
— Beth K. Vogt , 2015 RITA finalist, author of Almost Like Being in Love
“My favorite stories are the ones that whisk me to a new place. And what better place to land than Prince Edward Island? With a setting that completely captures your heart, Liz Johnson’s second PEI book is as endearing as the first. Relatable characters and a thread of hope make Where Two Hearts Meet a charming, not-to-be-missed romance.”
— Melissa Tagg, author of Like Never Before
“ Where Two Hearts Meet will melt your own heart with each story-turning page. You’ll fall in love with Caden and Adam and want to book a trip right away to the Red Door Inn. Johnson has crafted another beautiful read!”
— Jenny B. Jones, award-winning author of I’ll Be Yours and the Katie Parker Production series
“Savvy, enchanting, and delectable, Where Two Hearts Meet is a story of love and healing that you won’t be able to put down!”
— Betsy St. Amant, author of All’s Fair in Love and Cupcakes and Love Arrives in Pieces
“A delightful, yummy tale of faith and finding truth at the lovely Red Door Inn. Set on Prince Edward Island, Liz Johnson’s novel is charming.”
— Rachel Hauck, New York Times bestselling author
Dedication
For Hannah on your *mumble, mumble* birthday. Thank you for always making the trek with me to find three o’clock snacks on the buffet. Thank you for being my sister, traveling companion, and friend. And most of all, thank you for not making me eat more than three bites of that lobster.
And for you, the reader. Thank you for traveling to PEI with me. May you find peace and hope and enough grace for every situation.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Endorsements
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
Sneak Peek of Book 3 in the Series
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Liz Johnson
Back Ads
Back Cover
1
T here was only one thing better than the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the morning. The taste of freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the morning.
Caden Holt pulled a pan of piping hot sweet rolls from the bottom of her double oven, breathing in the intoxicating aroma and patting the golden-crisp top of a roll to the rhythm of her favorite Broadway soundtrack. Her mouth watered and her toe tapped as she slathered a bun with her signature cream cheese icing. The white glaze oozed down the side of the treat, and she caught the errant drip with her knuckle. Closing her eyes, she licked her finger clean before tearing off a corner and popping it in her mouth.
A tremor swirled down her back as sweet, sweet sugar exploded in her mouth, everything good and right with the world.
It only took three more bites to finish off her usual morning treat—after all, she had to make sure breakfast for the guests was up to par—and she immediately regretted devouring it. All that was left was a drop of icing on the scalding pan. But a chef didn’t fear heat. She’d gotten second-degree burns from less worthy causes.
After peeking over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone in her sanctuary, only the morning sun for company, she touched her finger to the tip of her tongue, scooped up the dribble, and licked it clean.
The sweets this morning would certainly pass muster, but she hadn’t even started on the main dish. While breakfast desserts were her favorite part of a meal, she didn’t work at a bed-and-bakery. As the executive chef of Rose’s Red Door Inn, she made a full meal to start every guest’s day off right.
Muted footfalls and hushed voices trickled from the floor above, promising that said guests would soon be poking their noses into the dining room, looking to fill their empty stomachs.
But for the next thirty minutes, she had the kitchen all to herself. Utterly, entirely, blissfully to herself. And the original London cast of Mamma Mia!
Lisa Stokke belted out her solo through the speakers tucked into the corner of the counter between a fully equipped stand mixer and canisters of the essentials. As Lisa’s voice swelled, Caden turned a wild pirouette that would have had her forever banned from the Great White Way—not that she’d ever been there, or on any stage, for that matter. She slammed into the kitchen island and bounced off the refrigerator, grabbing the edge of the counter to keep from tumbling all the way to the floor.
Her foot caught on the corner of a cabinet, and she laughed out loud as Lisa reached her high note and Caden hit her low point. Arms flailing as she fell, Caden scrambled for anything that would help her stay upright. She managed to grab hold of a single sheet of white printer paper hanging from the silver clip on the refrigerator. As soon as she tugged it free, her rear end hit the floor and she lost her grip on the page, which—aided by the fan in the far corner—slithered between the fridge and the nearest cabinet.
“No. No. No.” She shifted to her knees and crawled toward the black hole that had swallowed that morning’s instructions.
Caden’s boss, Marie Sloane, always left a list of special guest instructions on that clip. Food allergies. Gluten sensitivities. Young guests with picky palates. It all seemed innocent enough until one guest the previous summer had failed to mention his peanut allergy upon registration. Caden’s famous peanut butter and jelly French toast had nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock. He was one forkful of deliciousness away from a serious emergency when his wife noticed his hives, and Marie called for an ambulance to rush him to the hospital in Charlottetown. He’d made a full recovery and joked later that he’d married his wife for her observational skills.
But the memory still made Caden’s insides squirm.
Food had such a strange and wonderful power. Wielding it made her feel simultaneously significant and vulnerable, fearsome and fragile.
To do her job well she needed the piece of paper glaring at her from the depths of the crack between wooden cabinet and stainless steel appliance. The unmoving refrigerator stood like a sentinel, refusing to budge from its guard. She tried to reach the page anyway, poking her chubby fingers into the crevice, but they didn’t make it much beyond her second knuckle. If she could just slide the fridge over.
She leaned her shoulder into its side, but it only groaned, taunting her to try again.
She did and got the same result.
Kneeling between the cabinets and island, she put her hands on her hips and huffed a sigh that stirred a wisp of hair that had escaped her French braid. And sent it right back into her face.
She needed something long and narrow. With pinchers.
Tongs.
She pulled herself up on the edge of the alternating black-and-white counter tiles before rifling through the middle drawer next to the dishwasher. Spatulas and spoons tumbled about as she dug for the tongs she usually used to flip bacon. The tangled utensils scraped together, nearly falling onto the floor as she stretched her fingers to find what she was looking for.
Finally she hooked a handle with the crook of her finger and yanked it—and a deformed whisk—free.
Caden arched her wrist and sent the whisk toward the trash can, its wire loops swishing down the plastic liner.
Just as the cast of Mamma Mia burst into the rousing show closer, she lowered herself back to the floor. The tip of her tongs clicked to the rhythm of the song as she hunched over her prey, eyeing it for the right angle. She moved in slowly, deliberately, trying not to disturb the sheet until it was safely in her grasp.
She just . . . had . . . to . . .
“Rats!”
Even as she bumped the corner of the paper, she recognized her mistake.
The paper fluttered, loosened by her miscalculation, and slid beneath the fridge, completely out of reach.
Perfect.
She scrubbed her hand down her cheek and scratched behind her ear. Maybe if she glared at the spot where the paper had vanished, it would miraculously reappear. That was about as likely as a lobster crawling into her boiling pot.
Two loud footfalls right above her head made Caden jump, and she spun in the direction of the clock on the microwave. Thirty minutes until breakfast time. Fifteen until Marie came to check in and began serving the first course, a fresh fruit salad Caden had prepared the night before.
She’d run out of time to whip up the seafood quiche she’d written on the large calendar hanging by the door to the dining room. At this point, scrambled eggs and roasted potatoes would have to do.
But first—the allergy list