Monday, April 15, 2013
We asked for title ideas for Smitten 3, and boy did you all come through! Thank you so much for your numerous ideas. Y'all are so creative, it was hard to choose!
The winner of a signed
Secretly Smitten copy is
Barbara Thompson who suggested The Smitten Bookclub. Congrats, Barbara! Please send your mailing address to denise@denisehunterbooks.com
But, we're giving away one more copy. We also liked Smitten Ever After (Jordan Sims). However, our publisher has a similar title releasing around the same time, so we had to throw that title out. Anyway,
Jordan Sims, please send your address to the email above, and you'll receive a complimentary copy too.
Also, if either of you would prefer
Smitten instead, just let me know.
Thanks again for all your help, friends! We know where to go next time we can't come up with a title!
Denise
Labels: Denise Hunter, Smitten
Denise Hunter
posted at
8:16 AM
Comments (1)
Sunday, March 03, 2013
I'm often asked if I keep a story diary and where I get my ideas. The ideas often come when I least expect them. When I'm reading another book or watching a movie or listening to a song. (How interesting is it that other people's creative pursuits spark my own?)
The number one thing I've learned: WRITE IT DOWN!
I learned this the hard way unfortunately. I wonder if my forgotten ideas from those early days are sitting in a big gray room somewhere with all my lost socks. Anyway . . .
So I keep a folder--which happens to be gray. Coincidence? I don't think so. It goes back years and contains napkins, bulletins, Post-Its, scraps of paper, and magazine pages. Each item contains an idea or a nugget that inspired me. Sometimes it's just the name of a song as I often choose a theme song for my books. Music so inspires me.
Whenever it's time to start a new book, I go to my Idea Folder. Even if I already have an idea for a plot, sometimes the story needs "something more". I'll look for another idea I can blend with it. I love blending two ideas. It can create a really unique story.
So that's how I handle my ideas. This tip and more is on the video above. Kristin, Colleen, and I (missed you, Di!) sat down for a webcast last week and invited a few friends. Okay, the general public. It was a blast! We talked about collaborating together on the Smitten books, how we met (sorry for the towel story, Kris!), and why Colleen's hair looks so curly. Thought you might enjoy a peek into our lives--as if you don't get enough of that here.
Labels: Denise Hunter, Smitten, Webcast, writing tips
Denise Hunter
posted at
10:21 PM
Comments (2)
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Leave a comment to be entered to win a signed copy of secretly smitten!
4 winners announced Friday.
Love Blooms
Denise Hunter
Chapter One
Clare Thomas
smoothed out the hardwood mulch, spreading it under the newly planted hostas.
Partridgeberry now carpeted her mother’s flower bed with green, but soon it
would bloom with fragrant white flowers, and its red fruit would add a splash
of color come fall.
The realization
that it looked ten times better than it had three hours ago soothed her wounded
spirits.
Anna Thomas dumped
the last load of mulch from the wheelbarrow. “That should do it.” She blew her
long bangs from her face, picked up the shovel, and spread the load with the
vigor of someone half her age.
“It looks
beautiful, girls.” Clare’s sister Tess set a tray of iced lemonade on the porch
table. Her blue eyes were lit with a joy that only comes from new love.
Not that Clare
knew anything about that.
“Thank goodness
we’re almost done.” Her younger sister, Zoe, pulled off her pink garden gloves
and appraised the sky. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”
Clare breathed in
the scent of loamy dirt and rain, hoping the organic fragrance would relieve
her unrest. “Smells like it too.”
“God’s going to
water my new plants,” Anna said. “Isn’t he thoughtful?”
Oh, yeah, all was
coming up roses now that everyone was in love. Everyone but her. Clare chided
herself for the selfish thought. She was happy for her sisters, thrilled for
her mom. Still, they all had romance and candlelit dinners and kisses, and she
had . . .
Plants.
She set down the
rake and frowned at the garden. This isn’t the way she’d imagined it. She was
almost thirty, for pity’s sake. Where were her husband, her two-point-five
children, her devoted golden retriever? Okay, so she had the dog part covered,
but still.
She hadn’t even
found love, much less a husband. Somehow her looming birthday hadn’t seemed so
terrible when she’d had a relationship in the works. Now there was a countdown
clock ticking toward an unavoidable deadline. Was she headed toward an Aunt
Violet/Aunt Petunia future?
Her mom nudged
her. “What’s wrong, Miss Perfectionist? Did you miss a wilted leaf?”
Clare began gathering
the empty plant containers. “I was thinking about Aunt Violet.” Sort of true.
“I wonder if she and Grandma Rose are getting along.” Gardening enthusiasts,
the two older women helped out at the nursery during the busy spring and
summer, mostly giving advice to customers.
“I hope they’re
not at each other’s throats,” Anna said. “I shouldn’t have pulled you away.”
“Hopefully they’re
too busy to argue. Besides, I needed a break from all the tension.” Clare
intended to sit them down tomorrow and talk some sense into them. Their
argument over Grandma’s old beau, who had also been her sister Violet’s secret
crush, was getting old.
“Some break.” Tess
sipped her lemonade. “I hope Mr. Lewis finally gets you some help. You about
worked yourself into the ground last year, literally.”
“I forgot to tell
you,” Clare said after downing half the lemonade. “He said I could hire
someone. I put up some notices around town. Just hope I can find time for the
interviews and such. Memorial Day weekend is coming up, and after that it’s a
zoo.”
Zoe sat next to
Tess on the porch step. “Speaking of Memorial Day, can you ask Josh to bring
his camping chairs?”
“Uh . . . Josh
won’t be coming.” Clare dumped the containers in the trash bin, mentally
dumping the remnants of any feelings she’d had toward Josh. The memory of their
date two nights ago still left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Tell me you
didn’t break up with him,” Zoe said.
She supposed she
deserved that. “He did, actually.”
She eyed Zoe just as her sister opened her mouth. “And no, I do not need your
help. That’s how I got into this mess to begin with, if you recall.”
Zoe’s lips
puckered in a rosy pout.
“Oh, no,” Anna
said. “What happened, honey?”
Clare shrugged.
“Nothing, Mom, really. We’re just too different, I guess. No chemistry, no
spark.” No interest, especially on his part.
“Oh, rats,” Tess
said. “I thought you liked him.”
Their breakup, if
you could call it that, had nothing to do with the fact that he’d called her
boring. Just remembering it made heat flood to the back of her neck where her
hair was gathered in a loose braid. She couldn’t believe Josh Campbell, Mr.
President of the high school chess team, had the nerve to call her boring.
Okay, so he hadn’t
used that exact word, but she could read between the lines. She’d been raised
in a female household. Reading between the lines was necessary for survival.
So she liked her
routines. So she liked to look before she leaped. That was just smart, sensible. Not boring, Josh Campbell. You should
learn the difference.
Clare rolled the
wheelbarrow up the board and into the truck bed, then checked her watch.
“Uh-oh. She’s
going to be late for her tea run,” Tess said.
“Better hurry,
Clare,” Zoe said. “Nat will faint dead away if you fail to appear at 7:17 on
the dot.”
Clare frowned at
her sisters. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, honey,
they’re only teasing,” Anna said.
“We like that
you’re predictable,” Tess said.
“I’m not
predictable.”
Zoe grinned and
flipped her dark hair from her eyes. “Please. There’s a picture of you by the
word on Wikipedia. I just saw it yesterday.”
“I go to the
coffee shop at 7:17 because I get off work at 7:00. Besides, there’s no line
then. It just makes sense.”
“And we love that
you’re so sensible, dear.” Her mom rubbed Clare’s rigid shoulders, but it
failed to calm her. “It’s a very comforting quality in a world of constant
change.”
Zoe stood,
brushing off her jeans. “I have to run too. William’s coming over in a bit, and
I need to de-grime.” She looked down at her hands. “So much for my manicure.”
Clare shut the
tailgate with more force than necessary, then turned to say good-bye.
“You’re not mad,
are you?” Tess asked, giving her the hand tools she’d gathered.
Clare stashed them
in the pockets of her handy-dandy coveralls. “I’m just touchy today. No
worries.”
Her mom thanked
her with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“See you later,”
Zoe called as Clare pulled from the drive.
The first droplets
of rain hit the windshield when she pulled onto Lookaway Lane. Within seconds
the slow, fat drops turned into a hard, heavy downpour. She turned on her
wipers, her sisters’ words ringing in her ears, louder than the pattering on
her roof.
She wasn’t boring.
Or predictable. Well, maybe a little predictable, but that didn’t make her
boring.
Did it?
Man bored to death by girlfriend. News at
eleven.
She squashed the
thought, though the mood persisted as she entered town. Tourists huddled under
colorful canopies, waiting for the storm to pass. Judging by the gray abyss
above, that wouldn’t be any time soon.
She parked in a
parallel spot on Main Street and dashed in for her warm tea. Her cousin Natalie
had it ready, and Clare was back out the door in sixty seconds flat. See? No
line, no waiting. Sensible.
She put the truck
in gear and headed toward the nursery. It was closed, but her own shed was
full, and she couldn’t let the tools sit in the rain all night.
When she passed
the Wind Chill Creamery, her mind returned to Saturday night. Josh had ordered
two medium razmataz cones.
“Oh, make mine vanilla,”
she’d told Bethany Hopkins, who was looking frazzled on their first open night
of the season.
“You don’t like
razmataz?” Josh asked.
Truth be told,
she’d never tried the multicolored fruit-flavored ice cream. She shrugged. “I
just prefer vanilla.”
The other comments
had come three licks into her cone, and the night had only gone downhill from
there.
So she liked
vanilla. That didn’t make her boring. Maybe it was the whole sensible thing
that made her come off as boring. Now that she thought about it, she recalled
Josh saying something about taking a chance once in a while. He probably
thought she wasn’t spontaneous enough.
Her sisters
obviously agreed. Maybe she was stuck
in a rut. Well, she could be spontaneous if she wanted to be, take a chance now
and again.
And she would. She
nodded her head once, confirming the promise. That’s what she’d do. Her next
decision—completely and utterly spontaneous. No weighing it out, no pondering
for days, and above all, no safe choice. It would be good for her. Healthy. And
she’d be sure to let her sisters and Josh know about it. Not that she had
anything to prove.
She turned onto
the rutted shady lane, passing the old wooden sign that read The Red Barn Nursery and Greenhouse, Since 1973.
Clare had started working there as a cashier during her high school summers and
had learned everything there was to know about growing healthy trees and
plants. When she graduated, Mr. Lewis, wanting to cut back his own hours, hired
her full time as manager.
Last year she’d
talked him into staying open year ’round. With the added tourists, she thought
it was a feasible plan. They’d offered holiday plants and decorations, and
Clare had started growing tropicals in the greenhouse. They’d made a nice
profit selling them to the local flower shop, but the gift shop hadn’t done as
well as they’d have liked. Sure would’ve been nice if Smitten had gotten the
train contract. She didn’t want to go back to finding winter work.
The sun was long
gone by the time Clare crested the hill, the night pressing in through the
woods. She passed the deserted barn with all the artistically arranged potted
trees and bushes and rounded the corner, pulling up to the old lopsided shed.
Thunder roared and
rain pelted her as she dashed from the truck and lowered the tailgate. She
guided the wheelbarrow down the plank and hurried toward the shed. The door
opened with a loud squeak, and she pushed it inside.
A movement against
the far wall caught her eye. The sight of a man hunkering in the shadows made
her jump. Even in the dim light, she could see he was big. And hairy.
She grabbed for a
tool and came up with the rake. Her heart thudded as loudly as the rain on the
roof. “Who’s there?”
The stranger stood
slowly, unruffled.
She’d been right.
He was every bit of six foot three and broad as a boxwood hedge. He remained by
the wall, his body seemingly on full alert.
Clare raised the
tool over her head. She wished she weren’t alone, wished she’d taken the time
to lock up earlier, wished she were holding something more substantial than a
rake.
“I said, who’s
there?” She heard the fear in her voice and knew he did too.
Thunder cracked.
Hairy Man stared
back. “Name’s Ethan Foster. Just taking shelter till the storm passes.” His
voice was deep as a country well. He nodded his chin toward the corner.
Her eyes darted to
a motorcycle parked against the wall, then back to him. He had longish dark
hair and a face that hadn’t seen a razor in weeks.
Without taking her
eyes from him, she reached for the string on the naked bulb. Sixty watts
flooded the dank space. He was a little older than she’d first thought. Not
some kid, but a man of thirty-three, thirty-five. He wore a black T-shirt and
jeans that had seen better days.
She gripped the
rake. The nursery was well off the road, not the most convenient place to seek
shelter. “What are you doing all the way back here?”
Dark eyes stared
back, calm and knowing. “Sorry I scared you. Looking for Thomas.”
It was her last
name, but all the better if he thought there was a man on the premises.
“About . . .”
He shifted. “A
job.”
Her heart started
to settle to a dull throb. He seemed less threatening now that the light was
on. She wasn’t sure why; he hadn’t shrunk. Maybe it was his gentle eyes.
She lowered the
rake a smidge, loosened her grip. “I don’t charge by the word, you know.”
“Heard he was
hiring. What is this place anyway?”
She knew he wasn’t
referring to the nursery. “Smitten is a honeymoon destination . . . home of
country star Sawyer Smitten . . . Haven’t you heard of it?” After Sawyer’s
wedding the year before, she didn’t think there was a soul left in the country
who didn’t know about their little town.
“Not from the
area. Thomas around? I could really use the work, and I heard he was hiring.”
“We’re closed for
the night.” She looked at his motorcycle. There was a big bundle on the back.
Was he a drifter? Homeless? One thing was sure, Mr. Lewis would have her head
if she let him bunk here tonight.
“You can’t stay
here.”
“When will he be
back?”
She sighed,
lowered the rake to the ground, keeping hold of it—just in case—and stuck out a
hand. “Clare Thomas.”
His eyes flickered
with comprehension. He reached across the space and wrapped his hand around
hers. It was warm despite the spring chill. He squeezed her hand before
releasing it. She missed the warmth immediately.
Great. Now she was
going to have to turn him down. The rain let up, ushering in sudden silence.
“I’m a hard
worker, good with my hands.” He looked away as a flush crawled up his neck. A
moment later he found her eyes again. “Good with plants. And I’m a fast
learner.”
Clare pushed her
wet hair from her face, not letting go of the rake just yet. “Listen, I don’t
think this is going to work out.”
“I have
references.”
From people she
didn’t know. “I don’t think so. Sorry.” Someone else would apply soon. She
wasn’t desperate enough to hire a stranger. A big, tall, hairy stranger.
“I’ll work a day
for free. Give me a chance.”
Chance. She
thought again about Josh and vanilla ice cream. About the vow she’d made only
moments before to make her next decision spontaneously.
She looked him
over, instantly regretting the promise. This wasn’t a matter of her blue blouse
versus the white one. She bit the inside of her cheek.
“Two days free.”
She swallowed
hard. Stupid economy. “It’s temporary. Probably only through July.”
“Suits me fine.”
“It doesn’t pay
much.”
“Didn’t expect it
would.”
Of course he
didn’t. Her pulse sped, not liking this spontaneity thing one bit.
I don’t like it either, heart.
It felt wholly
unnatural. Like when your food comes up instead of going down.
“Tomorrow then?”
he asked.
She stared at him,
searching for a reason, any reason, to say no. Something besides his too-deep
voice, his all-seeing eyes, and the memory of his warm hand.
But she came up
empty, and he was waiting. “All right.”
His lips lifted in
something just short of a smile. “All right.”
She cleared a
space as he walked his bike past her, out the door, onto the wet gravel. He
straddled the seat and started the engine.
She wondered where
he was going. Night had fallen, and Timber Lake Lodge was likely full. She
doubted he could afford it anyway. Carson’s cabins were no cheaper, and
besides, she couldn’t picture the man under a down duvet or in a heart-shaped
tub . . .
“What time?” he
asked.
She stared at him
blankly. “What?”
“In the morning.”
She crossed her
arms against the chill. “Oh. Eight, I guess.”
He nodded once and
let off the clutch, then sped down the dark gravel drive.
Well, Clare, there goes your spontaneous
decision. I hope you don’t live to regret it.
Labels: book giveaway, free chapter, Smitten
Denise Hunter
posted at
6:28 AM
Comments (15)
Monday, October 08, 2012
 |
| Coming January 2013! |
Are you an influencer? I have 2 advanced copies of
Secretly Smitten to give away! Here's how you enter the drawing:
1. Tell me what you can do to promote
Secretly Smitten such as post reviews, blog about it, host a Secretly Smitten book club, make a YouTube video, Tweet about it, etc. Be creative!
2. Leave your email address
That's it! Here's a blurb of
Secretly Smitten, cowritten by BFFs Colleen Coble, Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter.
Return to Smitten, Vermont, a quaint New England town where love always finds a way.
While visiting their mother for Sunday dinner, sisters Tess, Zoe, and Clare Thomas discover a pair of dog tags belonging to their grandmother's first love---a soldier who was killed in action years ago. But how had his dog tags found their way to Smitten? The Thomas women are determined to solve the mystery. But will they also be smitten by love along the way?
Labels: book giveaway, Denise Hunter, Smitten
Denise Hunter
posted at
8:08 AM
Comments (17)
Sunday, February 26, 2012
After months of collaboration and writing, this week we're finally turning in
Secretly Smitten, the second in the Smitten series. A long held secret is about to rattle the townsfolk in the most romantic town in America!
To celebrate the completion of
Secretly Smitten, I'm giving away 3 copies of
Smitten, signed by all four of us.
Here's how to enter:
1. Since Smitten features 4 best friends, leave a comment telling us what you love about your best friend, past or present. Be sure and tell them you tooted their horn at GWO!
2. Leave your email address.
Three random winners will be chosen Tuesday (2/28/12).
To learn more about
Smitten, visit our website at
www.SmittenVermont.com You'll find recipes, author interviews, and even a love song written just for the book!
Labels: book giveaway, romance novels, Smitten
Denise Hunter
posted at
10:33 PM
Comments (31)
Sunday, January 29, 2012
You may remember when we Smitten girls went on our retreat in the fall. Besides brainstorming the second
Smitten story, we were also there to shoot a video which our publisher had arranged for.
Here you'll see we were able to capture a whole 5 minutes of worthwhile material from over an hour of nerves and giggles. We were lucky to get that. Our editor Ami McConnell was there, giving direction--and believe me, we needed it.
Kristin laments a goof that made it into the final cut, but listen, when you're nervous and a camera's rolling, there's no telling what will slide off the tongue.
Last week in an interview, I encouraged listeners to buy
Smitten on audio and listen to it during their commute instead of the radio--did I mention this was during a
radio interview? Fortunately, they couldn't see me beating my head on the fridge at my stupidity, even as the words were leaving my mouth.
So, be amazed that the video crew managed to salvage five minutes of film. All I can say is, I wouldn't want to see the cutting room floor.
Labels: behind the scenes, Smitten, video
Denise Hunter
posted at
10:07 PM
Comments (5)
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
We're so excited that today is Smitten's official release date! But I have to share some even more spectacular news! Di's CA-125 was 39 yesterday! 4 pts above normal!! Thank you for your prayers, friends. Keep them up. We're so grateful for you and your love and prayers for Di. When Di texted me, I started crying and burst into tears every few minutes all afternoon. So thankful to God for his touch on her life! Love you all.
Chapter One
Natalie Mansfield’s heart swelled as she stood on the perimeter of the town square and watched her niece and the other children decorate the town for Easter. A gigantic smile stretched across five-year-old Mia’s face as her Sunday school teacher lifted her to place the lavender wreath at the top of the clock.
Mia saw her and waved. “Aunt Nat, look at me!”
Natalie waved back, her smile broadening. “She’s growing so fast,” she told her aunt Rose Garner. “I love her so much.”
Black threaded Rose’s silver hair, and her smooth skin made her look twenty years younger than her sixty-two years. “I still remember the first day I laid eyes on you.”
“How could you forget? I was a morose ten-year-old who snapped your head off every time you spoke to me.”
Her aunt pressed her hand. “You changed our lives, honey. We were three lonely spinsters until you showed up. Now here you are providing a home for your niece. A full circle, just like that wreath. I’m so proud of you.”
Her aunt’s words made Natalie’s heart fill to bursting. “You gave me the only stability I’d ever known. I want to do the same for Mia.”
Aunt Rose wasn’t listening. A small frown creased her brow. “Something’s wrong.”
Natalie looked at the men standing a few feet away in front of the hardware store. Their heads were down and their shoulders slumped. The dejection in their stances sent her pulse racing.
She recognized one of her coffee shop patrons, Murphy Clinton, and grabbed his arm as he walked past. “What’s happened, Murphy?” she asked.
He stopped and stared down at her with a grave expression. “The mill’s closing.”
“That’s not possible,” she mumbled. Her thoughts raced. The mill was an institution and the main employer in Smitten. If it closed . . .
He finished her thought. “This town is finished.”
* * *
The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee overpowered the less appetizing smell from the drum roaster in the back room. Natalie let her employee Zoe handle the customers at the bar and took the hot beverages to the seating area by the window where she and her friends could see white-topped Sugarcreek Mountain. Spring had come to their part of Vermont, and the sight of the wildflowers on the lower slopes would give her strength.
“So what are we going to do?” she asked, sinking onto the overstuffed leather sofa beside Reese Mackenzie.
“Do? What can we do?” Reese asked. Her blond ponytail gleamed in the shaft of sunlight through the window. She was the practical one in the group. Reese was never afraid of hard work, but while Natalie saw only the end goal, Reese saw the pitfalls right on the path. “We can’t make them keep the mill open.”
While rumors about the mill had been floating for months, no one had really believed it would fold. The ramifications would be enormous. Natalie’s business had been struggling enough without this added blow.
She took a sip of her mocha java. A little bitter. She’d have to tweak the roast a bit next time. “If the mill closes, the town will dry up and blow away. We can’t let that happen.” If Mountain Perks closed, she didn’t know how she would provide for Mia.
And she wasn’t leaving Smitten. Not ever. After being yanked from pillar to post with an alcoholic mother until she was ten, Natalie craved the stability she had found here with her aunts and her friends.
Julia Bourne tossed her long hair away from her face to reveal flawless skin that never needed makeup. “This is one of those things outside your control, Nat. I’d guess we’d all better be looking for jobs in Stowe.”
Shelby Evans took a sip of her tea and shivered. Her Shih-poo, Penelope, dressed in a fashionable blue-and-white polka dotted shirt, turned around in Shelby’s lap and lay down on her navy slacks. “I don’t know about you all,” Shelby said, “but I wanted my kids to grow up here.”
The women had no children of their own—and none of them was even close to thinking about settling down—but that was a moot point for Shelby. She had a storybook ending in mind that included a loving husband and two-point-five children for each of them. Natalie was sure her friend would find that life too.
Natalie moved restlessly. “There has to be something we can do. Some new export. Maple syrup, maybe? We have lots of trees.” She glanced at Julia. “What about your New York friends? Maybe you could ask some of your business friends for advice?”
Julia shrugged her slim shoulders. “They know spas. I hardly think a spa is going to save us.”
Reese had those thoughtful lines on her forehead. A tiny smile hovered on her full lips, and her hazel eyes showed a plan was forming. “We don’t have time for exports, but what about imports? Tourists would love us if they’d come visit. We have heart.” She took out her ever-present notebook and pen and began to jot down ideas.
“They come to ski in Stowe anyway,” Shelby said. “All we have to do is get them here.”
Natalie rubbed her forehead where it had begun to ache. “But what do we have to offer that’s different from any other town?”
Julia crossed her shapely ankles. “Smitten is cute with its church and all, but cute doesn’t bring tourists. I can’t even get a decent manicure in this dinky town. People aren’t going to pay for ambiance. We need some kind of gimmick.”
Reese tapped her pen against her chin. “I have an idea,” she said. “Everyone jokes about the town name. Why not capitalize on it?”
“How do you capitalize on a name like Smitten?”
“What does Smitten make you think of?” Reese asked. “Love, right? What if we turn the town into a place for honeymooners?”
Shelby adjusted the bow on Penelope’s head. “I went to Santa Claus, Indiana once. Tons of people, even in July.”
Natalie swallowed a groan. They’d all heard about Santa Claus too many times to count. She needed to derail Shelby before she broke into a rendition of “Jingle Bells.” “We could have love songs playing as people strolled the streets.”
Julia snickered and nodded toward the man striding past outside the window. “I have a feeling Carson would have something to say about that. He hated all the jokes about his name in high school.”
Natalie followed the angle of Julia’s nod. Her gut clenched the way it always did when she saw Carson Smitten. He was a man who attracted female attention wherever he went. He looked like his lumberjack great-grandfather, with his broad shoulders and closely- cropped dark hair.
He had all the single women in town drooling after him. Except for her, of course. If the other girls knew what she knew about him, they wouldn’t think he was so great.
“I’m still thinking about my idea,” Reese said. “This will mean new businesses, new jobs, lots of revenue pouring in. We’d have to get the entire town on board.”
Natalie’s excitement level went up a notch as she imagined the town transformed with its new mission. “The town meeting is coming up. I can present the idea there.”
“It’s a good thing you’re a selectperson,” Shelby said. “People listen to you.”
Natalie dug a paper and pen from her purse, a Brighton that Julia had given her for her last birthday. “There needs to be a cohesive plan. What would this love town look like? Besides romantic songs playing over speakers around town.” She peered at Reese’s list and copied down the items.
Shelby retied Penelope’s bow. “We need a lingerie shop that sells perfume,” she said. “Chocolates. Some plush hotels and bed-and-breakfasts with tubs for two.” Her smile grew larger. “Maybe old-fashioned lampposts along the path around the lake. You could put outside tables on the street and white lights in the trees. Flower boxes all around town.”
“And we’ll need more restaurants,” Julia added.
Natalie eyed her. “You said a good manicure was impossible to find. What if you started a spa?”
Julia’s perfectly plucked brows lifted. She grabbed the tablet and pen from Natalie. “I don’t know. I’d like to move back to New York eventually.”
“The honeymooners won’t spend all their time in their rooms,” Reese said, her eyes gleaming. “We offer great outdoor activities. The skiing here is as good as anywhere in the country. People just don’t know about us.” She gestured toward the mountain. “And look at that view.”
Natalie groaned. “The last thing I’d want to do on my honeymoon is go skiing. I’d rather sit holding hands across a linen tablecloth with a lobster in front of me.”
“But I’d go skiing in a heartbeat,” Reese said. “Our big draw is our outdoor beauty. We don’t have an outfitters shop. We’d need that.” She jotted it down on her paper. “You know how I’ve been saving for a shop like that for years. Maybe now is the time.”
“Now is the time,” Natalie said. “Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. We’re going to push you until you do it.”
“I love it!” Shelby stood and paced by the window. “Maybe my etiquette school can be part of it too. I can coach women on how to put on the best parties and cater to the society women who come to town. Maybe teach ballroom dancing.”
“And your designs,” Natalie said, unable to keep her voice from rising. “Those cute outfits you make for Penelope would sell like hot cakes.” She glanced at the picture on the wall of herself with Mia. “I have to do what I can to save the town. I want Mia to have the security I’ve never had. A-And I’ve been thinking. I want to be Mia’s real mother. I’m going to see about adopting her.”
Her announcement left her friends with mouths gaping. She glanced at Shelby, whose soft heart she knew would be the first to agree with her.
Shelby’s dark eyes glistened. “Oh, Nat, that’s just like you! You have so much love to give. Mia’s a very lucky girl.”
A lump formed in Natalie’s throat. “Starting the adoption is going to be my birthday present to myself. Every day I wake up and wonder if Lisa is going to take her away from me someday. I can’t live with that fear.”
Julia grimaced. “Lisa is never going to own up to her responsibilities, but I’m glad you’re going to make sure Mia is safe.”
“I’ll be praying for you,” Reese said softly. “There will be lots of frustrating paperwork. Let me help you with that.” She flipped the page on her notebook. “And it’s all the more reason for us to get this idea sold to the residents. You don’t want Mountain Perks to go under.”
This was not going to be an easy sell to Carson Smitten. Natalie stared out the window again and watched the man yank on the door to his hardware store in his usual confident way. She had no doubt she could convince the rest of the town over his objections. After all, what did they have to lose?
* * *
Smitten Town Hall was packed. Carson Smitten scanned the rows of people. Folks were talking excitedly, mostly about the mill news that had been announced two days ago. There looked to be a lot of interest today on the things listed in the warning that had been published thirty days earlier. Once the moderator had been selected and brought down the gavel, the participants recited the Pledge of Allegiance and began to go through the list of items on the warning. Things went smoothly with no surprises until Natalie Mansfield took the mic.
Dressed in jeans and a red sweater that showed her curves to advantage, she stepped forward on the stage. “We’ve all been reeling with the news that the mill is closing,” she began. “I have a proposal to bring to the town. A way to bring major tourism to Smitten.”
A wave of murmurs rose, and people leaned forward. Burly George Metcalf called out, “If you can save my plumbing business, I’ll eat dirt.”
She smiled. “It won’t take that, George. But make no mistake—it’s a major change.”
Carson narrowed his gaze on Natalie. He liked looking at her. He’d always been drawn to her dark-haired beauty, but she’d been distant with him ever since that fiasco with her sister, Lisa.
Natalie moved to the podium, and the screen behind her illuminated. The picture that came up showed Smitten, but a very different one from the rough lumber town that now existed. Was that a skating rink? Carson studied the screen, intrigued by the picture-perfect town.
“We’ve all heard the jokes about our name, but it could be the thing that saves us.” She turned to look up at the screen. “We can cater to lovers, honeymooners, those celebrating their anniversaries. We’ll have love songs playing in the streets, encourage more businesses that cater to couples.”
Carson shot to his feet to object, but before he could voice his opposition, others got in ahead of him. The town meeting buzzed with excitement as voters threw out ideas on how to make this idea credible. Terms he’d never associated with his town were bandied about. Terms like spa, candle shop, lingerie shop of all things. It was insane.
He finally got the mic. “We don’t need a new marketing plan. We need a new industry.” He glared at Natalie, who leveled a stare back from calm brown eyes. She’d done this on purpose just to rile him. He knew it.
“But don’t you see—this is a new industry. It’s tourism, one of the best kind. Instead of the mill ruling our lives, we’ll be in charge.”
“It’s a good idea,” Harold Warren shouted from the back of the room. “We can sell our town. I’ve lived my whole life here, and I don’t want to leave.”
“Me neither,” a woman’s voice chimed in. “We’ll need a publicist. I can help with that.”
Someone else volunteered to be on a task force. In spite of Carson’s resistance, the proposal went to a vote and passed. All around him he heard people laying plans for how they could contribute to the idea. He couldn’t believe it. Grabbing his jacket, he stormed from the building. Out in the town square he sank onto a park bench and rubbed his forehead. How could they jump on such a crazy idea so quickly? Love capital. Good grief. They’d be the laughingstock of Vermont.
A female voice spoke behind him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He looked around to see Natalie standing behind the bench with her navy peacoat in her hand. She was the last person he wanted to talk to. “I think you’ve said it all,” he said.
She ignored his comment and joined him on the bench. A light scent, something flowery, wafted from her hair. He nearly rose and walked away, but courtesy demanded he at least hear her out.
“It’s clear you hate the idea,” she said.
“You’re getting people excited about an idea that won’t work. We’re not a touristy town. We’re blue collar workers. We need another plant, maybe a furniture manufacturer. Something we can sell.”
“Think about it, Carson. This is totally unique. People will eat it up. What else do we have going for us?” Her voice held excitement.
He struggled to ignore her enthusiasm. She’d always been persuasive. “Recreational stuff like skiing, hunting and fishing. We can work on that.” He glanced at her. Big mistake.
She leaned toward him on the bench. “We’ve worked on that for years. It’s no secret your fishing cabins are only half full most of the year. And you’re practically running your hardware store by yourself.”
He winced. “We can brainstorm ways to do a better job.”
“We’ve tried that. There’s too much competition, even here in Vermont. But no one else is doing this. No one else can do it. We have the name and the great setting. All we need is to work together.”
“It’s my town, Natalie. My great-grandfather built Smitten. I’m not going to stand back and watch you make a joke of it.”
She nodded toward the hall. “The meeting is breaking up, and I have another appointment. Come to the coffee shop in the morning. I have some ideas to discuss with you. Please.”
“No, Natalie, you’re wrong about it. All of it.” Just as she was wrong about him and her sister.
Her hand touched his. “Come on, Carson, I’m not going to bite. What do you have to lose?” She bit her lip. “I know Mia is an issue between us.”
“She’s only an issue because it’s clear you believe your sister’s lies,” he shot back. “And what makes you think you know what’s best for this town?”
Her dark eyes studied him. “Just because you’re a Smitten doesn’t mean you’re the only one who cares about this place. Can’t you put our differences aside and work with me for the good of the town?”
Good of the town? When she put it like that, it made it sound like he was being petty. Which he wasn’t. She just didn’t know what was good for the town. This was his town, passed down from the original Carson Smitten in the 1700s. If he had a prayer of saving Smitten, he had to derail this crazy plan.
“No thanks,” he said.
Her dark eyes widened, then thick lashes shuttered the disappointment in them. She’d thought he’d agree, had she? She’d clearly thought she could convince him.
Labels: Natalie chapter one, Smitten
Colleen Coble
posted at
8:44 AM
Comments (2)
Delicious
