The Bestselling Summer Beach Series Bundle
The Bestselling Summer Beach Series Bundle
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If you like sun-soaked beach sagas you can lose yourself in, Summer Beachās fascinating characters are for you. Start your vacation in Summer Beach now with Seabreeze Inn and the Summer Beach series. After that, the Summer Beach fun continues with the new Coral Cottage. Find out why readers say, "Life is better in Summer Beach."
Looking for feel-good beach reads? The Summer Beach series is a clean, heartwarming collection that includes the first five books in the bestselling women's fiction series, plus Coral Cottage as a bonus read. Choose from ebooks, audiobooks, or paperbacks. This offer is only available here.Ā
Seabreeze Inn is now optioned for a soon-to-be TV series! More than 1,000,000+ books in the series sold.Ā
š By 9x USA TODAYĀ Bestselling Author Jan Moran
More than 25,000+ 5-star reviews at retailers, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, and others.
āļøāļøāļøāļøāļø "A wonderful, feel-good story great at any time of year. Will make you feel like the sea breeze is streaming through your hair." - Laura Bradbury, Bestselling Author, My Grape Year
Note from Jan: "Why am I offering this deal? Because traditional publishers usually price ebooks up to USD$15.99 and audiobooks from USD $19.99 to $29.99. I don't think reading should break the bank, so I price my beach bundles at friendly, fair prices. That way, we both win, and I love hearing from readers. Join us for hours and hours of reading adventures. Plus, I have friendly tech support to help you download ebooks and audiobooks if needed to wherever you are in the world."
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Ā š Paperbacks - For the US/UK, please allow 10 business days for delivery. Paperbacks ship from Ohio in the US, and fromĀ Peterborough, UK for the UK, Ireland, Canada, and others.
Ā
For paperbacks to Australia and New Zealand, we recommend ordering fromĀ Amazon or a local distributor due to shipping costs.
Ā
BOOKS INCLUDED IN THE INTRODUCTORY BUNDLE
š Seabreeze Inn - At 45, artist IvyĀ Bay discovers her late husband spent their life savings on a secret assetāaĀ rambling old beach house in a small beach town in Southern California. RenovatingĀ the historical home unveilsĀ hidden secretsāand the town's leaderĀ who stands inĀ her way isĀ Ivy's first beachĀ crush.Ā A heartwarming USA Today bestseller. A sweet, second-chance, slow-burn beach read, soon to be a TV series!
š§ Listen to the audiobook sample now
š Seabreeze SummerĀ -Ā While renovatingĀ the old beach house, Ivy and her sister Shelly suddenly have full occupancy after a fire forces Summer Beach residents from their homes.Ā Even the mayor, Bennett Dylan, who was IvyāsĀ firstĀ beach crush, moves in.Ā Despite the chaos, Ivy must save the house from an impending tax sale.Ā
š Seabreeze Sunset - Ivy discovers untangling secrets at a historic beach inn has unimagined surprises.Ā AĀ neighborās lawsuit could mean an end to the Seabreeze Inn. Her daughter Sunnyās arrival in Summer Beach is a chance to renew their strained relationship.
š Seabreeze Christmas - The holidays test Ivy and Bennettās relationship, and aĀ mysterious guest has an unusual effect on those around him. Families and friends come together, and love is in the airāuntil a priceless discovery at the beachside inn complicates matters.
š Seabreeze Wedding - As Ivy and Shelly prepare the old beach house for a family wedding, surprising discoveries from decades past arise.Ā New guests arrive for the high summer season, bringing with them fresh challenges.
š“ Coral Cottage - When Marina Mooreās life implodes on national television at 45, she seeks refuge at her grandmotherās beach house, the Coral Cottage. Eager to recreate her life, she sells baked goods at the farmers market, yet writer Jack Ventana and his overgrown puppy complicate things.Ā Romantic women's fiction and aĀ sweet, small-town beach read.
š Purchase the ebook or audiobook collectionĀ
š„ Receive your ebook or audiobook download link instantly via email from Bookfunnel, sent to the email address you used when you checked out.
š Enjoy on the BookFunnel app or send to your preferred device and enjoy! It's easy, but friendly tech help is available if you need it.
š° Get special offers for Jan's new books and other series!
š For paperbacks, your special value bundle is shipped straight to your door.
š International shipping note for paperbacks: For UK paperback orders, we ship from a printer in Peterborough, UK, so your shipping cost will be reasonable.
Paperback orders outside US/UK:Ā Paperback orders from Canada, Ireland, and other countries will be shipped from the UK. Due to the shipping cost from the US/UK on orders to Australia and New Zealand, we recommend ordering from Amazon.com.au for Seabreeze Inn and the Summer Beach series. And welcome to the Summer Beach family!
Read A Sample
Read A Sample
āThatās it?ā Ivyās heart sank. She shielded her eyes against the sunās rays, taking in the sprawling property perched on a knoll that swept to the beach. The house was dated, and the landscapingāwhat was left of itāwas thorny and overgrown. No wonder there hadnāt been any offers. ā©
āYouāre lucky that Mrs. Ericksonās estate kept up the structural and system repairs, including the roof and electrical, before your husband bought it,ā Bennett said.ā©
Ivy caught her breath. The sound of his rich, slightly gravelly voice brought back a flood of memories. She recalled hearing him sing, strumming his guitar, on the beach beside a fire with her friends so many years ago. In an instant, she was seventeen again, with a heart so tender and so swiftly broken. This is why sheād never taken his calls, but only corresponded through email with him.ā©
She slid on her sunglasses to study Bennett, surprised at his metamorphosis from long-haired surfer to successful citizen. He was dressed in resort wear as if he were planning a yacht excursion later today. His cropped hair had sun streaks, and his face bore light tan lines on his cheeks from his sunglasses. With deck shoes, light blue cotton pants, and an expensive-looking, casual windbreaker jacket over a white cotton shirt, he looked like he had just stepped out of an ad for sailing craft.ā©She wondered if he still sang.ā©
Ivy turned away to focus on the house. She wasnāt there to look at Bennett Dylan. ā©The scene before her was a drab wash of dingy white and pale, straw-like grass relieved only by pink and purple bougainvillea blossoms that tumbled across the barren lawn like haphazard flower fairies. Just beyond where a grassy lawn should have ended, waves bubbled on the beach, and shore birds skittered along the waterās foamy white edge. ā©Yet as run down as the landscape was, Bennett gazed at the house with obvious pride.
āThe original owners, Amelia Erickson and her husband Gustav, christened the home Las Brisas del Mar, which means ocean breezes in Spanish.ā
ā©āLovely name,ā Ivy said. At least that was appealing.ā©
āThat was the original name of Summer Beach when this part of California was under Mexican rule,ā Bennett said.
āIt was important to Mrs. Erickson that the name preserve the heritage of the past for the communityās sake. Most people around town call it Las Brisas, or the old Erickson estate.ā
ā©While the history was interesting, Ivy didnāt want to spend any more time with Bennett than necessary. She dropped her bag on the ground with a thud. She and Shelly had taken a ride-share here directly from the airport, though Bennett had offered to pick them up.ā©
Shelly glanced at Bennettās SUV, a large hulking vehicle with dark-tinted windows. āCan we put our bags in your car for safekeeping?āā©
āSure, though the neighborhoodās fairly safe,ā Bennett said in a confident, real estate agent tone. ā©
āI live in New York,ā Shelly said.
āCanāt leave a penny out in my neighborhood.ā Her laugh rang out against the continuous, low vibration of ocean waves. ā©Ivy watched two women in colorful sundresses stroll by wearing twinkling diamonds on their wrists and at their throats. They were brilliant pools of color against a vivid blue ocean backdrop and looked as if they belonged in a LeRoy Neiman painting.
āThose two are unlikely to covet our well-traveled luggage. Still, Iād feel better if it were safe.āā©
Accommodating them, Bennett opened the SUVās rear hatch. His eyes flicked toward Ivy and focused on her. āYou seem awfully familiar. Did you grow up in Boston?
āā©Ivy shot Shelly a look to squelch the comment she feared. āNo, we grew up half an hour south of here near the beach, but I left a long time ago.ā As she spoke to him, a rush of emotion seized her chest, surged up her neck, and exploded in her brain, sending a thousand sparks prickling through her nervous system. She didnāt want to relive her last summer after high schoolāor her crush on Bennett.
Of all people for Claire to stick her with. ā©āSo how do you know Flint Bay?ā he asked Ivy. āI noticed youāre connected on social media.āā©
While Shelly looked amused, Ivy dismissed his question with a wave of her hand, which was all she could muster for a moment. āHeās a relative. I donāt see him often.ā ā©
That was true. Ivy hadnāt spoken to her brother much in the past few years and had been surprised that he and his family had flown to Boston to attend Jeremyās funeral. It wasnāt that they werenāt close. Theyād just drifted apart, each of them busy with their own families. Aside from tapping a benign like on social media posts, theyād lost touch.
ā©Ivy watched Bennett swing their suitcases into the rear cargo area with ease. He had the kind of solid, muscular build that men half his age aspired to. No muffin-top on that physique.
Heād bulked up since sheād seen him last, but then, that had been more than twenty-five years ago. ā©Yet, more than his build, it was his small movements that took her breath away. The way he angled his head to listen as if hearing the rhythm in a personās voice. Or the way he tapped a finger on his thigh to some silent tune. These revealed the soul of a fellow artist sheād once fallen in love with.ā©
Not that she should care, of course. She drew a deep, cleansing breath.ā©
She hadnāt felt this way since Jeremy. No. If she were honest with herself, sheād never felt such intense physical attraction to Jeremy. Her husband had been more of a curiosityāan intriguing, mercurial puzzle to piece together. Yet over the years, sheād loved the life theyād built together and how heād always cared for her. That was the true mark of love, wasnāt it?ā©
She had no idea what this feeling was, but right now, it definitely wasnāt welcome.ā©Bennett shut the rear hatch. āIāve been keeping up the groundsāwhatās left to keep up, that is. The landscaping and the house need work to properly show your property.ā
ā©āI asked you not to spend any money on it,ā Ivy snapped. She wondered how large of a bill heād racked up on that.
āHow much is the yard service?āā©āNo charge for my labor,ā he said.
His flashy, white-toothed smile was a little too quick for her. āYou mentioned that you were on a budget, so I did what I could to help the house show better. I didnāt do much except clear the weeds and debris outside and dust a few cobwebs inside. I turned on the electricity and water, but Iām afraid itās like watering hay.ā ā©
āOh,ā Ivy said, now a little embarrassed.
āWell, thank you.ā That was kind of him. With looming property taxes, she had to keep costs down. If the house didnāt sell soon, she would lose it to a tax sale.
This was her only remaining asset now. She scrutinized the exterior, trying to decide what could be done on a budget to make it more appealing.ā©Bedraggled palm trees thick with dried frond skirts lined the walkway to the house, standing like loyal, gray-bearded sentinels on guard. Sandy dust swirled in a little cyclone near Bennettās For Sale sign. ā©
She sighed.
Her house was the neighborhood eyesore. ā©Down the block, neatly trimmed palm trees swayed above tiered fountains and picturesque beach houses. Farther down were local businesses, including a coffee shop named Java Beach and a hardware store called Nailed It, as well as resort fashion boutiques and beach gear rentals. Summer Beach had retained its lazy, beach village vibe despite homes that had soared in price and summer tourists who poured in for the golden beaches and nearby horse races.
ā©Ivy frowned with concern. The faster she sold this house, the sooner she could get on with her life. What was left over would cover Sunnyās last year of college, a little nest egg, and a cozy little one-bedroom studio apartment somewhere in Boston.
Not trendy Back Bay, of course. An outlying suburb would do, even if Ivy didnāt know anyone. She had to live somewhere.ā©An ocean breeze cooled her face. She filled her lungs with fresh air laced with the aromas of sea salt and kelp, which reminded her of the summer holidays sheād taken with Jeremy and the girls on Nantucket. She sighed. Those had been among their happiest days. ā©
āThis house was once a real beauty,ā Bennett said, his tone reverent now.
āIāve seen old photos of grand parties held here. Hollywood celebrities, artists, and the horse racing crowd used to come here. She was stunning in her day. Could be again.āā©
At his words, Ivyās thoughts shifted. She took in the wide stone steps leading up to the entry and a row of palladium windows facing the sea. In her mindās eye, she imagined cocktail parties set against brilliant pink sunsets, languorous dinner parties held on the veranda by candlelight, and guests waltzing under moonlight reflected on sparkling waves. ā©Bennettās voice brought her back to reality. āItās been months without any showings at all. The listing contract is up for renewal, but we have to do something.āā©Fighting the effect Bennett had on her, she turned to him. āLetās reduce the price again.āā©
āWe can, but thatās not the problem,ā Bennett said, leading the way up the wide steps to the front door. āIt has zero curb appeal.āā©
āI could manage fresh paint and landscaping,ā Ivy said, calculating how much room she had on her credit cards. Could she get a loan to do more? Probably not on her income. She rested her hand on a stone balustrade, which radiated the sunās warmth. The structure felt solid and enduring.
ā©āMight be worth more as a tear-down,ā Shelly added. āItās a large lot thatās just steps to the beach.āā©
Bennett shook his head. āEven though Mrs. Erickson hadnāt lived in Las Brisas for years after the war, she had it designated as a historic building. The first licensed female architect in California, Julia Morgan, designed it.ā Bennett cleared his throat.
āYour husband was trying to demolish it in order to build on the lot.āā©Ivy cringed. What gall. But knowing Jeremy, it didnāt surprise her. Heād traded in his car for a new model every year.ā©Bennett went on.
āJeremy was lobbying the city to revoke the historic designation, arguing that itās a blight on the village.āā©This news was startling to her. When had her husband had time to do that? Then Ivy recalled the trips to Los Angeles heād been taking to advise a client. ā©
Jeremy had been leading a double life, indeed.ā©Ivy ran her hand along the stone railing. Suddenly, a strange, protective instinct surged within her. This house had been left alone, just as she had been. ā©
āI would never dream of demolishing Las Brisas,ā she said, surprising herself. Where did that come from?ā©Shelly shot her a puzzled look. ā©
āThen letās go inside,ā Bennett said with a note of relief in his voice.ā©Ivy gazed up at the two-story house and its stunning architecture. A round turret anchored one side, and a veranda wrapped around the house. Its position high on a knoll gave it an even grander appearance. The location on a sandy point was ideal, with only one adjoining property.
Even in its current state, the house still had a graceful beauty about it that tugged at her emotions. She could understand why Jeremy had fallen in love with it and bought it.ā©
Even why heād spent every penny theyād had on it. ā©She only wished sheād known about it.ā©Her younger daughter Sunnyās criticism still haunted her. How could you have let Dad spend your retirement? Sunny was also angry that Ivy had withdrawn Jeremyās offer of a new car upon her college graduation, but what could she do? Ivy gave Sunny enough frequent flyer miles to take her to Europe, where she was backpacking and visiting friends who had family or summer rentals. That had placated Sunny some and given them both space to heal. ā©
Ivy paused at the top of the steps behind Bennett, who was sorting through a ring of keys. His cologne wafted behind him on the breeze. Sandalwood, she detected.ā©
Pausing beside her, Shelly bumped her shoulder. āReminds me of a Vanderbilt mansion.ā
ā©Bennett nodded. āIt has features of Spanish Colonial Revival and Mediterranean styles, especially inside. The owners were from Europe.ā
Bennett slid a key into the old front door lock. āJulia Morgan designed William Hearstās castle in San Simeon, too. He was a newspaper magnate in his day.āā©āWe went there as kids,ā Shelly said. āThe pool is spectacular.
āā©Ivy smiled at the memory. They were the two youngest daughters of a rambunctious family that had roamed the California shores from San Diego to San Francisco surfing, camping, and sailing. ā©āThe Neptune pool at the Hearst Castle is used in a lot of photo shoots,ā Bennett said.
āLady Gaga filmed a music video there, too.ā His eyes brightened.
āWait until you see inside. It looks better than the photos I emailed you. Even with good equipment, the photos fail to capture the grandeur of the spaces.ā
ā©āI didnāt really look at the photos,ā Ivy said in apology. She had been so hurt and angry at her husband that she had never opened the photos or read the listing description. Or approved the costs of cleaning or staging. At that time, sheād also been grief-stricken, dragging herself out of bed only long enough to deal with the most pressing issues of his estate. Now she regretted her short-sighted decisions.ā©The door creaked open, and Ivy and Shelly followed Bennett inside. ā©As Bennett crossed the wooden floor, his rubber-soled deck shoes formed muted echoes in the empty room. He pushed aside old blue draperies on tall palladium windows to reveal a stunning ocean view. The sunlight illuminated shafts of dust mites swirling in the soft air currents.ā©
Instantly, Ivy felt as if theyād stepped back in time. ā©āThe drawing room is to one side and on the other, the ballroom.ā Bennett walked through the room.ā©Waving her hand, Shelly sneezed.ā©Following Bennett, Ivy gaped at the cavernous rooms and the intricately carved coffered ceilings. Each panel was a work of art, mellowed with the patina of time.ā©āItās still dusty, though not as bad as before,ā Bennett said. āThe drawing room was where the original owners received guests, and of course, the ballroom saw its share of dances. This was the summer house for the Ericksons, a wealthy couple from San Francisco. They were art collectors and appreciated quality.ā
ā©Art collectors. That Ivy understood. āI could easily fill a house this size with artwork.āā©Ivy knelt to run her hand over the intricate, parquet pattern of the wooden floor. As she did, her fingers seemed to vibrate against the smooth grains, and she felt a peculiar sensation emanating from the wood as if her touch were returning life to it. Or maybe that was a vibration from the ocean waves. āThe wooden floors are exquisite. They feel warm.āā©
Bennett carried on with his commentary. āJulia Morgan was the first female graduate of the Ecole des Beaux-Arts Paris, so youāll see many old-world touches throughout. The Ericksons had owned homes on Mediterranean shores, so they asked Morgan to incorporate many features they loved. Built with love, Las Brisas is a truly unique home,ā he added, his deep, melodic voice resonating in the vacant space.ā©
Feeling drawn to the home through his words, Ivy drank in the heady details of the house. Curved arches divided the rooms and art niches punctuated the walls. Overhead, chandeliers hung motionless, laced with spider webs. Risers on the curved staircase were fitted with vibrant hand-painted tiles. Despite years of abandonment and the shabby exterior, the homeās fine interior fittings were well-preserved.ā©
āThe chandeliers are exquisite,ā Ivy said, craning her neck. The one sheād seen in the foyer was a grand statement piece, with hundreds of crystal pieces arranged in a stunning design.ā©āWhen was the house built?ā Shelly asked. She whirled around, taking in her surroundings with awe.ā©āIn the early 1920s,ā Bennett replied, returning his intense gaze to Ivy.
āNot long after El Prado in Balboa Park for the Panama-California Exposition. The styles are similar.āā©Averting her eyes, Ivy filled her senses with an imaginary scene: A grand ball on a balmy summer evening, doors open to the long terrace outside. A lavish garden with white flowers that reflected the soft light of a full moon. The intoxicating scents of jasmine, gardenia, and plumeria perfuming the cool evening air.ā©
āThereās a lot more to see,ā Bennett said, interrupting her thoughts. He led them through a large kitchen that had two vintage OāKeefe & Merritt stoves, double sinks, and a large prep-island in the middle. Two hulking turquoise refrigerators stood like butlers on duty.ā©
āImagine cooking on these,ā Ivy said, running her hand over the dusty porcelain stovetops and keeping her distance from Bennett. The kitchen was well-equipped for parties. āI miss having everyone gather in the kitchen for holidays.ā Sheād loved creating new dishes, planning meals, shopping for fresh food at farmerās markets, and seeing the delight on faces around her table. ā©Shelly touched her shoulder. āWeāll do it again.ā
ā©Bennett continued, leading them through an atrium sunroom, a formal library, an expansive dining room, and an intimate parlor. ā©In the library and dining room, Ivy noted that the wooden floors were darker around the edges of the rooms. āLooks like there were large rugs in here. That must have been stunning.āā©
Ivy and Shelly climbed the stairs after Bennett. Upstairs was a long hallway of bedrooms, each one containing a private marble bathroom and claw-foot bathtub. ā©Bennett swung open each door. āIt was rare back then, but each bedroom had its own en suite bath.āā©
Ivy peered into the intimate bedrooms along the long corridor. Most of the rooms were empty, though one had old Art Deco furnishings and another had a wicker and beach theme. In a rocking chair sat a stuffed bear with a striped sailor shirt, posed as if it were waiting for a child to claim it before bedtime. Vintage childrenās books were stacked on a nearby shelf. She could almost hear the walls ringing with laughter.ā©
āThe ownerās bedroom is at the end of the corridor.ā Bennett led the way and opened the door to a fully furnished Art Deco suite of curved furniture. Discolored splotches marked the walls where paintings must have hung. ā©Idly, Ivy wondered what they had looked like. The air was cooler in here, she noted, shivering a little. ā©
āCold?ā Bennett shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across Ivyās shoulders. ā©āI donāt need this,ā Ivy protested, yet the jacket was warm on her shoulders. The fibers held the fresh scent of his cologne, and she felt herself sinking into it like an embrace. What she would have given at one time for such a gesture from him. She shivered again. Though the sun was out, April could still be chilly. ā©āIt can get cool here when the marine layer rolls in.ā Bennett crossed the room and lifted a window shade. āHereās a good view of the pool.ā
ā©Looking out, Ivy sucked in a breath of awe. Below was a miniature-sized Neptune pool, complete with statues, though the pool was dry. āItās stunning,ā she said, aware of Bennettās gaze on her. āThe entire place is a work of art.āā©
āIām glad you appreciate it. Las Brisas is a special, beloved landmark in this town.ā ā©After returning downstairs, they made their way to the servantās quarters behind the house. Adjacent to that, a stable-turned-garage still housed an old Chevrolet Deluxe convertible.ā©Ivy wiped dust from the curved fender.
āCherry red,ā she said, wondering when the car had last been driven. She could imagine careening down the coast with the wind in her hair. What a good life the owners must have enjoyed here.ā©
āGoes with the house,ā Bennett said, holding her in his gaze a little too long. āAlong with the furnishings. You could call an antique dealer for a quote.āā©
āThis is so swell,ā Shelly said, grinning. āFeels like we stepped back into the 1950s.
āā©Ivy nodded, but what she felt was even more powerful than that. She felt a surreal draw to the house, but then, sheād always liked history. Thatās what had drawn her, in part, to Boston.ā©They walked back through the house, and Ivy and Shelly waited on the front steps while Bennett locked up. ā©Feeling sad to leave, Ivy faced the ocean drawing energy from the breezeāenergy sheād need to make critical decisions. She turned back, facing Bennett.
āHow long do you think it might take to sell?āā©Bennettās eyes darted between them.
āMost people are looking for modern houses, and rarely this large. It needs a lot of work. Since itās a historic home, new owners canāt make many exterior changes. Thatās one reason interest has been low.ā
ā©āSo, what does that mean in terms of time?ā Shelly asked. ā©āIn this market, you should be prepared to wait for the right buyer,ā Bennett said.
āA unique property like this could take a year or longer to sell. There havenāt been any serious inquires.āā©
That would never work, Ivy thought. āYou said the historic designation is one reason why the price is lower. What are the other reasons?ā ā©
For the first time since theyād met, Bennett seemed flustered. āItās not important. Just local gossip.āā©Ivy and Shelly exchanged a look. Shelly pressed on. āWhat gossip?āā©
āAbout the previous owner, Mrs. Erickson,ā Bennett said.ā©A warning chill spiraled down Ivyās spine. ā©
āSome say she had strange ways.ā Bennett sorted through his pocketful of keys.
āSome people swear theyāve seen lights flicker inside, but thatās just talk.āā©Shelly burst out laughing.
āAre you trying to tell us itās haunted?āā©Bennett chuckled. āOld houses often seem to have resident spirits. Nothing to it, though.āā©
āDid the former owner die here?ā Ivy asked. ā©
āNo, Mrs. Erickson closed Las Brisas when Pearl Harbor was bombed during the Second World War,ā Bennett explained. āThe entire west coast was on high alert. She and her husband had fled Europe when the First World War erupted, and they feared another attack.ā
ā©āThat was 1941,ā Ivy said. āHas anyone actually lived here since then?āā©
āMrs. Ericksonās husband died shortly after that,ā Bennett said, taking a step closer to her. āSo Mrs. Erickson reopened it to house troops that were passing through the harbor. There was a shortage of lodging then. After the war, she returned to Europe for health reasons. The house was kept up, and older neighbors tell me she would visit from time to time, but less often as she grew older.āā©
āDid she have children?ā Ivy asked. ā©āNone. However, after her death, the estate remained open. She had a young niece who had disappeared during the war, and sheād always prayed she would be found. Finally, the time expired, and the niece was presumed dead. Thatās when your husband bought it from her estate, which then donated the proceeds to charity. Claire brokered that deal.ā
ā©Ivy shaded her eyes. Bennett was standing so close that the fine hairs on her arms prickled, and she stepped back, unnerved by her attraction to him. ā©Bennett pocketed the house keys and fished out his car keys.
āNow, if youāll come back to my office, we can renew the listing and review the plan to sell it. Wonāt take more than fifteen minutes.ā
ā©Ivy glanced back at the dowdy grand dame. She should let Bennett redouble his efforts to sell the house that had plagued her for months and was threatening her financial future.ā©Yet, after seeing the house, Ivy felt a peculiar kinship with it.
Las Brisas seemed to beckon her into its past. And as large as it was, it felt like a real home. The teddy bear in the rocking chair, the solid stoves in the kitchen, the exquisite pool. The love that had once been lavished on this home was evident. She felt strangely conflicted.ā©Bennett seemed anxious to leave.
āWould you like to wrap up the listing agreement today?ā ā©
āNot today,ā Ivy finally said, drawing a hand over her face. How many bedrooms were there in the house? She added the servantsā quarters in the rear and did some quick mental math calculations, even as she could feel Shellyās concerned eyes on her.ā©
āThanks for showing us the house,ā Shelly said to Bennett. ā©He jingled his keys with impatience.
āI can arrange professional painting, cleaning, and landscaping for you. After the house is staged with new furnishings, it will have a better chance of attracting the right buyer.ā
ā©As Ivy contemplated the house, a breeze whistled through the palm trees, drawing her in with a swish of their skirts and a promise to share their secrets. Just beyond, pelicans soared against a clear, cerulean sky while waves roared to the beach and rushed out again. Amidst it all, Las Brisas had stood guard for a hundred years. She wondered what had transpired within these walls. And why did she feel so attracted to the majestic old home?ā©
When she didnāt respond, Bennett said, āWhat would you like me to do?āā©
āNothing.ā Despite her desire to distance herself from him in Summer Beach, on impulse, Ivy shot out her hand. ā
Actually, Iāll take those keys now. I wonāt need your services any longer, Bennett. Iām moving into Las Brisas.āā©
Book Reviews
Book Reviews
More than 12,000+ 5-star reviews on Goodreads and Amazon!
"SEABREEZE INN is truly an enjoyable, lovely read that will lift your spirits. If you enjoy a light, breezy read, old houses and characters with secrets, you will want to add this book to your TBR. Art lovers will also enjoy this book that slips in a little romance." - Silver's Reviews
"An entertaining beach read that offers multi-generational context and humor." -InD'Tale Magazine
"A wonderful story that is great at any time of the year. Will make you feel like the sea breeze is streaming through your hair." - Laura Bradbury, Bestselling Author, My Grape Year
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You will get an email from BookFunnel immediately upon purchase. If the email hasnāt arrived in 5 minutes, look for it in your Spam folder -- or if you have Gmail, in your Promotions folder.
If you needĀ technical help with your ebook or audiobook, the friendly folks of Bookfunnel will be there to help. Otherwise, you can email them here:
help@bookfunnel.com
4. How will I read my ebook or listen to my audiobook?
You should be able to load your book on most devices. There will be instructions on how to do that on the download page.Ā
The easiest way is to install the Bookfunnel app on your eReaderĀ - there will be instructions for this with your download ( don't worry, it's easy!)
YouĀ Automatically Have Your Own Book Library at BookFunnel!
Log into BookFunnel with the email you used to purchase/download your books, and you will find your library here:
Your library will contain all ebooks you have purchased from BookFunnel from any and all authors.
5. Will the BookFunnel app work on my device?
The Bookfunnel app works on the following:
a. Kindle Fire tablets after 2015
b. Kobo eReadersĀ exceptĀ Kobo Aura
c. Nook tablets after 2014
d. Apple devices (Apple Books, iTunes, iPads, iPhones) using a minimum of iOS 10+ (2016) (but most were upgraded to iOS 10 after 2012)
e. Android Tablets and Phones after Android 5.1(2013)
You can also read on your computer using Chrome or Firefox browser.
Unfortunately, the Bookfunnel App doesn't work on :
E-Ink devicesĀ including Kindle Paperwhite, Touch, Voyage, Oasis, NOOK GlowlightĀ and Kobo Aura.
Internet Explorer browser
Kindle Fire 1st Gen (2011)
NOOK Color (2010), NOOK Tablet (2011), NOOK HD (2012)
6. What should I do if I don't have an e-reader device?
If you have a desktop computer or laptop or phone, you can simply install Chrome or Firefox, or read in the cloud on your phone, or sideload it onto your device (the Bookfunnel support team can help with this).Ā
help@bookfunnel.com
7. Can I get a refund on digital items?
Generally, there are no refunds on digital items unless you purchased in error or have a device that does not support the BookFunnel App. Then we're happy to accomodate you. If you're having trouble downloading, reach out to the friendly folks at BookFunnel (#3 above).