I’m so excited to share a sneak peek of my upcoming small town Christian romance new release, Running into Forever! If you’ve been craving a story filled with heartfelt romance, deep questions of faith, and the charm of a small-town island setting, you’re in for a treat.
What you’ll find in this small town Christian romance:
- A unique marriage of convenience storyline with a twist of faith
- A picturesque setting on the remote and charming Sanctuary Island with a cozy small town feel
- A grumpy/sunshine romance dynamic
- A slow-burn clean romance with all the feels
- Deep faith journeys that explore trusting God through disappointment
- Heartwarming small-town community and romance
Running into Forever is the kind of story that will leave you rooting for Taylor and Sonora as they discover that sometimes, the most unexpected paths lead to the greatest blessings—and God always, ALWAYS is at work, even in our disappointments.
Ready for a sneak peek? Read on, friend!
Running Into Forever: A small town Christian Romance
Chapter ONE
“Taylor, a moment of your time please?”
Though Gretta’s voice was all politeness and calm, her dark eyes held snap and fire. Taylor sighed, twisting his mouth to the side. This afternoon kept poking him with irritants, and if it didn’t stop, he’d need to drink calamine lotion.
Ick. Drink calamine lotion? Who would think of such a thing?
A truly frustrated man, that was who.
Keeping his shoulders taut and square, allowing the lines of his dark livery—his driving uniform, as worn by the three generations of Everests before him—to fall in their striking crispness, Taylor followed Gretta past the high, polished wooden front desk of Shore View Palace and toward her office.
Curtis raised his carrot-colored brows and cleared his throat. “Now you’ve done it,” the man muttered.
Great. This wasn’t the first time Taylor had been called into Gretta’s opulent office, located at the back of the historic island hotel—the most famous of lodgings on Sanctuary Island. It wasn’t even the tenth. But it was the first time Curtis hadn’t chuckled about it. And Curtis chuckled about everything—he had since they’d been grade school students. Everything from the alphabet to road apples was funny to Taylor’s red-haired counterpart, who loved to play up his Irish heritage.
Except not this, apparently.
Taylor’s breath puffed through his lips as he exhaled before he passed through the door separating the concierge desk and the management realm.
“Shut the door, please.” Gretta sounded as grave as she ever did. Then again, that was expected. Gretta Fellenbaum was a consummate hostess of impeccable quality. Courteous. Steady. And always serious. If she was older, Taylor would have claimed it was her advanced years that made her so, but Gretta was no more than ten years older than him, if that. She was simply a woman born out of time and would have fit more suitably a hundred years before.
“Please.” She gestured with one sweeping hand, as though her invitation was not an instruction. But make no mistake—whatever Gretta combined with please was, indeed, a command. Dressed in her pressed gray pantsuit, complete with a peach rosebud pinned on the narrow lapel of her jacket, Gretta was all business, all the time. And no one was to defy her authority. “Sit down.”
Like being called into the headmaster’s office at school.
Taylor tugged on his dark suit lapels, rolled his shoulders back, and shook his head. “I’d rather stand.” Wasn’t he brave? “There’s work to do at the stables, and I—”
Gretta planted her long fingers on her trim waist. “This is not a courtesy visit, Mr. Everest. Nor is it likely to be quick. You will hear me out, and then—”
Taylor cleared his throat. “Just get to whatever you’re stewing about, Gret. The horses don’t unhitch themselves.”
“Gretta. Or better still, Mrs. Fellenbaum, as I am your boss.”
“I contract with the Palace, Gret.” Just so she didn’t think she intimidated him. For the record, no one did. At least, no one that he’d let on about. “I don’t work for you.”
She crossed her arms while her chin lifted in stern arrogance. “That contract is currently in severe jeopardy.”
Taylor scowled. Gretta wasn’t joking—the woman wasn’t capable of such a thing. Humor was as foreign to her as laziness was to Taylor. But she couldn’t be serious either. Not about his contract as the carriage driver for the Palace being in jeopardy. Who else was she going to have haul her spoiled, uppity clientele during the tourist season? Though the Palace was outside of town limits and vehicles were technically allowed, few tourists brought them. Not to the historic resort where half the charm was a step back in time.
Were all those visitors simply going to ride the resort’s bikes? Doubtful. For one thing, over half were on the silver end of the age spectrum. And second, of those who were younger, most had never broken a sweat in their lives—unless it was done so in front of a full-length mirror, in skintight clothes, and paid for with some sort of expensive membership. They weren’t going to start pedaling places during their high-priced vacation to a tiny resort island in the Great Lakes.
Taylor matched Gretta’s stance—arms tucked tight across his chest. “Enlighten me, dear Mrs. Fellenbaum. How do you expect to transport—”
“I’m asking the questions in this interview.” With a sharp pivot, she spun to her massive desk, retrieved her cell phone from its straight and tidy position in front of the high-back leather chair, and marched her way directly in front of Taylor. “I require an explanation.”
Taylor held her fierce stare for several heartbeats. Then he dropped his attention to the phone she’d shoved into his chest. He nearly ripped it from her grip and then tapped the Play button.
There was his carriage, clean and polished, shining in the late-July sun. And there he was, pristinely clad in this suit. And there were his great matched Friesians—Albert and Victoria. When it was just him and the animals—which was how Taylor preferred it—the two gentle giants were Al and Vicky. But everyone around the Palace knew them by their royal names.
And there, in that stupid video, was that blasted tyke who’d tried to get himself stomped on not one hour before.
In the video, Taylor swooped down, snagged the five-year-old by the back of the shirt, and pulled him out from beneath the horses’ bellies. The child screamed and kicked. Taylor kept a firm grip and dragged the boy to his well-dressed and entirely too-made-up mother. He leaned forward, pressing the tyke to the woman’s legs, and said something.
“Well?” Gretta huffed.
“Well what?”
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Nothing. The kid was lucky.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He should have gotten a good paddling on his backside.” Taylor passed the phone back to Gretta. “And he was lucky my horses are steady.”
“What did you say to that woman?”
His arms folded against his chest again, Taylor rocked back on his heels. “I told her she’d better keep her son in check, or he was going to get himself hurt.”
Gretta’s eyes bulged. “You threatened a guest?”
Brows pinching, Taylor shook his head. “Threatened? No, Gret. I warned her. It’s dangerous to be running under the horses. And really stupid.”
“Your animals are dangerous?”
Tipping his face up toward the coffered ceiling, Taylor growled. “No. My horses are not dangerous, and you well know it.” Leaning toward the woman, Taylor let his scowl rest on her for a few beats. “But they are animals. Say the boy tickled Albert’s belly and he kicked, thinking it was a fly? Or heaven forbid, both horses are spooked because some little tyke isn’t supposed to be running around beneath them? Then what, your greatness?”
Gretta thrust her chin forward. “Don’t talk to me with such impertinence.”
“Don’t accuse my horses of being dangerous.”
“Don’t threaten my guests.”
“Don’t have guests who do dumb things.”
Gretta stared at him. Then huffed. It was the most undignified thing he’d ever witnessed the woman do. With rolled fists she spun, rounded her fat desk, and sat in her chair. “Sit.” She pointed toward the upholstered Queen Anne chair on his side of the desk.
“No please?”
Her brows lifted as she glared at him. “Sit down, Taylor. You need to see this.” Reaching for a file positioned to her right on her desk, she swiped it up and passed it over the great distance of oak that separated them.
Taylor leaned forward to grasp it. “What is it.”
“Your contract.”
His heart stalled, and his mouth went dry. She wasn’t actually going to—
“You’ll find that on at least two counts you are in breach of it.”
“What?”
“First, line three. You will treat every guest with the utmost courtesy. By the complaints I have in this file”—she tapped another folder that had rested beneath the one Taylor now held—“you cannot possibly deny that you are in breach of that.”
Taylor held out his hand, a silent ask. Gretta complied, passing him the folder full of notes, each one dated, each one with some sort of quoted grievance.
Carriage driver failed to smile when offering his services. Smiling was not in his contract. Was he to go everywhere with some ridiculous grin plastered on his face, like a masked actor in some stupid comedy? Nope. No thanks. Not for him.
Man driving horses cursed under his breath when lifting luggage. He did not curse. Taylor didn’t use foul language. The one time he’d done so when he’d been barely a teen, his mother had told him it was a sign of a stupid person, and he’d never done so since.
The ogre in charge of carriage rides did not respond to questions. He could imagine exactly what sort of person had submitted that one. The flirty, obnoxious sort who had asked him things like What time does your shift end? And What does it take for a girl to find your smile? They weren’t real questions, and therefore he was not required to answer them.
Taylor tossed the file onto the desk. “These are ridiculous. You can’t possibly take them seriously.”
The contents slid helter-skelter across the tidy space. Gretta frowned and quickly set about straightening the notes and replacing them in their folder.
“I take everything seriously.”
“No argument there.” He mocked her with the tilt of his head.
“As if you don’t, Taylor Everest.”
Her pointed response set him back. She was right. Taylor wasn’t the funny guy Curtis was. Even so, some things didn’t require serious attention.
“Now I have to deal with this video situation. Do you know what will happen if this guest posts it on her social media, as she’s threatened?”
“Everyone with half a brain will think she’s a bad mother for allowing her five-year-old to run under horses like that?”
“No, because she won’t post that part, genius. She’ll clip it down so that people will only see you manhandling her son and whispering your threats.” Palms braced on her desk, Gretta leaned forward. “Even you can’t fail to see how that will ruin the Palace. And if we go down . . .”
He went down. Taylor couldn’t deny that. He didn’t have a business without the Palace.
Leaning back hard, he huffed. “What do you want me to do?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. Right now there is the matter of your second violation of contract.”
“What?”
“At the end.”
Taylor flipped the three pages until he came to the page he’d signed. Looked the same it always did—a whole bunch of unnecessary words declaring that this agreement was binding for the season and blah, blah, blah . . .
“Section eight, Mr. Everest.”
Ah. Back to highfalutin formality. Taylor scanned the page until he came to section eight.
The Palace desires all employees and contractors to behave with absolute dignity, to live in such a way that is above reproach. As such, an unmarried individual cannot continue employment or contract beyond the age of thirty.
What on earth? This was inconceivable. Implausible. Utterly . . . absurd.
It couldn’t be legal.
Taylor lifted his stare to meet Gretta’s.
“I recall you had a birthday in May.”
All he could do was glare at her. Harder.
“Remind me, Mr. Everest. How old did you turn?”
This just couldn’t be legitimate. It was . . . insane. Who would put that in a contract?
Who would sign a contract with that in it?
A man who didn’t read the contract.
“How old, Taylor?”
He ground his jaw. “You know how old I am.”
“I do, in fact.” She folded her hands primly. “As of May 17, you are thirty-one. Which means that, though you can argue the validity of those complaints, you can’t say you are not in violation of our agreement.”
Taylor looked back to the papers he clutched in his hand. The blood in his veins pulsed hot and fast. Anger ballooned bigger with every breath. Not to mention disbelief.
“Why would you do this?” Dropping the hand that held this insidious contract, he pinned Gretta with the heat of his rising anger.
She looked away—and was that a flinch? Her mouth moved with discomfort. Then she swallowed and returned eye contact. Suddenly her uppity coolness moved toward something else. Something much worse.
Pity.
Shaking her head, Gretta leaned toward him. “You’ve been unhappy for far too long, Taylor. It’s making you grumpy. It’s time for a change. For your sake as much as for everyone else’s.”
“You think losing my contract with the Palace is going to fix my being grumpy?”
“No.” One brow quirked in challenge. “I think you finding a wife will.”
“That is irrational and opaque.” Shaking his head, Taylor jumped to his feet. “This won’t stand.”
“I assure you, it will. I’ve already checked with our lawyers.” Gretta stood, her motion significantly calmer than Taylor’s. Then she strode round the desk and stopped beside him. She dared to lay a hand on his arm. “It’s time to let old wounds heal. And to find a hopeful future.”
Taylor scowled at her. What the heck did she know about old wounds? Then with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the idiotic contract toward her desk. Without another word, he spun toward the door and stormed out.
Married? Who was he going to find to marry? Some flippant female tourist who thought life with him on the island would be terribly romantic, only to bail when she found out how harsh and isolated winter could be?
He’d tried that once before.
No thank you.
Are you ready to find out how Taylor gets out of this strange fix?
You can PREORDER Running Into Forever now!
Did you know that Running Into Forever is part of a 6-book series?
Welcome to LOVE ON SANCTUARY SHORES! Six bestselling authors of Christian romance bring you stories of love and redemption. From tender romance to enduring faith, each standalone novel in this series promises unforgettable characters and heartwarming small town charm.
