Counting on Sweetgrass Cove

I kept the books at Rose Marsh House, which made me the woman who knew what everything cost. Love most of all.

Five years before, my husband had taken the good car, a girl half his age, and the last of my faith in my own judgment, and left me the mortgage. I came away with one rule worth keeping: trust the numbers, never your own heart, and never want a thing badly enough that losing it could finish you. It was a sensible system. It ran the best little inn on the Carolina coast, it let me sleep at night, and I'd have happily died by it.

Then a patient, maddening widower from up the county asked me to dance at a wedding, and didn't have the decency to take no for an answer.

After that he kept turning up. With sweet tea, with terrible jokes, with a way of looking at me like I was worth the risk. And the women of that house, my nosy, impossible, beloved found family, kept reminding me that being right and being alone were never the same prize.

I'd spent five years making sure nothing could surprise me again.

I should have known better than to count on that.

Counting on Sweetgrass Cove is the second in the Sweetgrass Cove series: warm, uplifting beach reads about second chances, found family, and the women brave enough to choose themselves. Closed-door and full of heart.