Late 2014 release!
When 26-year-old Grace Holden's car breaks down outside Aspen Grove, California, the town's mechanic takes her to Candy's Café--where they run into his ex-fiancée and he impulsively claims Grace is his date.
Unaware that his words and her mother's ring have set tongues wagging, Grace is unexpectedly charmed by the town, its occupants, and the warm welcome shes receiving. When she learns what people think, the mechanic begs her to pretend to be his fiancée, just until her car is repaired, to help him win back his girl by making her jealous. When the repairs unexpectedly stretch into weeks, the charade becomes more complicated as she finds herself drawn to the townspeople--and especially to Jake Taylor, Aspen Grove's handsome mayor and brother of Ethan's ex-fiancée.
With family and friends filling the void in Grace's heart, Aspen Grove is beginning to feel like the home she's wanted, but will her part in the deception cost her the good will--and perhaps even love--of people she has come to care about?
Unaware that his words and her mother's ring have set tongues wagging, Grace is unexpectedly charmed by the town, its occupants, and the warm welcome shes receiving. When she learns what people think, the mechanic begs her to pretend to be his fiancée, just until her car is repaired, to help him win back his girl by making her jealous. When the repairs unexpectedly stretch into weeks, the charade becomes more complicated as she finds herself drawn to the townspeople--and especially to Jake Taylor, Aspen Grove's handsome mayor and brother of Ethan's ex-fiancée.
With family and friends filling the void in Grace's heart, Aspen Grove is beginning to feel like the home she's wanted, but will her part in the deception cost her the good will--and perhaps even love--of people she has come to care about?
Excerpt from While You Were Stranded
Copyright © 2011 Heather Horrocks
CHAPTER ONE
As Grace Holden's car skidded across the snowy highway, she steered in the opposite direction, her fingers clenched white against the wheel. The rear end shimmied for a second before the wheels grabbed traction. Her heart pounding with adrenaline, she slowed even more, down to forty.
In the past fifteen minutes, visibility had dropped to maybe twenty feet ahead of her.
The last thing she'd expected in central California was snow, especially blizzard quality. It was much too surfer state for the white stuff. She hadn't seen a single snow flake during the past five years she'd lived in LA.
Tears burned her eyelids. She couldn't think about LA or the past five years or her mother. A few blinks and multiplication tables to distract herself with--twelve times twelve is one-hundred and forty-four--and the threatening tears subsided.
Keeping one hand clenched on the steering wheel, she pushed in her flasher button. A sports car zipped past her with an apparent idiot at the wheel.
Snow drifted across the painted lines on the highway. A sign appeared along the roadside, and she slowed even more as she struggled to make out the words.
Aspen Grove, California ~ 3 miles
Population: 2,500
Home of the Just Be Clause Christmas Festival
Grace'd been hoping to reach San Francisco today and cross the Oregon border tomorrow, but she hadn't planned on this freak storm. With her knuckles white on the wheel and adrenaline singing through her veins from the skid, she'd be glad to reach this small town to seek shelter.
Without taking her eyes off the road, she reached out and cranked up the heat. The temperature was dropping along with the snow.
This storm looked more like Christmas in Minnesota than October in the sunshine state.
Maybe, if Grace was really lucky, by the time she actually reached Aspen Grove, she'd be past the worst of the storm, and then she could continue on her way to Port Orchard.
The car lurched again and she corrected. “Come on, Ava, hang in there,” she muttered to her Toyota Avalon. “We can make it.”
The wind shifted, shooting snow directly into the windshield, and she reduced her speed again. Finally, when she was barely crawling along at twenty and still struggling to see through the barrage of fat, wet flakes, the car slid again. Instinctively, she turned the wheel, but it fishtailed again, and she turned the wheel the other direction to regain control.
But it didn't work.
The car slid toward the shoulder of the road.
Officially out of control, Ava hit a cement barrier with a sickening crunching sound, enough of an impact to slam Grace hard against the seat belt but not enough to deploy the airbag.
At least she was off the shoulder of the road, out of the path of other drivers who couldn't see through the snow, either.
Silence blanketed everything. The headlights flickered and went out, along with the dashboard illumination and the sounds of ABBA.
She took a moment to decide if she was hurt. Her shoulder ached where the seat belt had hit her and she'd probably gotten bruised. Other than that, nothing seemed broken or injured.
Waiting a moment for the adrenaline to fade, she lifted a still-trembling hand to restart the car. She needed to reach someplace warm.
When she turned the key, there was a click-click-clicking sound, but the car didn't start. After three more frantic tries, she realized it wasn't going to. She'd damaged her car. The Avalon was ten years old, but it had served her faithfully during her flush years and those more lean years taking care of her mother.
Eleven times nine is ninety-nine.
Had Ava really wheezed her last for the day? If so, Grace was stranded. And she still had a long, long way to go. Even Aspen Grove was nearly three miles away, much too far to walk in this storm.
A damaged car. Not much money. And now no heater. If she sat here long enough, maybe she'd turn into a popsicle. Popsicles didn't have many worries. Yeah, right. Until they got eaten.
Her heart sinking, Grace pulled out the new phone she'd bought just yesterday, relieved to see that there was 3G service here despite the storm, if one measly half-bar of service counted. Her fingers were already so cold she had trouble getting the touch screen to work. She blew on her fingertips and tried again.
When the Google screen popped up, she typed in Aspen Grove, California. A picturesque website popped up promising a winter Christmas festival and summer grapes and sunshine. She could use a little sunshine right about now.
She searched the site for the phone number for City Hall.
In a town of 2,500, surely there was at least one honest mechanic they could recommend, someone who would be willing to come out in a snow storm to rescue a damsel in distress.
Five times nine is forty-five.
As Grace Holden's car skidded across the snowy highway, she steered in the opposite direction, her fingers clenched white against the wheel. The rear end shimmied for a second before the wheels grabbed traction. Her heart pounding with adrenaline, she slowed even more, down to forty.
In the past fifteen minutes, visibility had dropped to maybe twenty feet ahead of her.
The last thing she'd expected in central California was snow, especially blizzard quality. It was much too surfer state for the white stuff. She hadn't seen a single snow flake during the past five years she'd lived in LA.
Tears burned her eyelids. She couldn't think about LA or the past five years or her mother. A few blinks and multiplication tables to distract herself with--twelve times twelve is one-hundred and forty-four--and the threatening tears subsided.
Keeping one hand clenched on the steering wheel, she pushed in her flasher button. A sports car zipped past her with an apparent idiot at the wheel.
Snow drifted across the painted lines on the highway. A sign appeared along the roadside, and she slowed even more as she struggled to make out the words.
Aspen Grove, California ~ 3 miles
Population: 2,500
Home of the Just Be Clause Christmas Festival
Grace'd been hoping to reach San Francisco today and cross the Oregon border tomorrow, but she hadn't planned on this freak storm. With her knuckles white on the wheel and adrenaline singing through her veins from the skid, she'd be glad to reach this small town to seek shelter.
Without taking her eyes off the road, she reached out and cranked up the heat. The temperature was dropping along with the snow.
This storm looked more like Christmas in Minnesota than October in the sunshine state.
Maybe, if Grace was really lucky, by the time she actually reached Aspen Grove, she'd be past the worst of the storm, and then she could continue on her way to Port Orchard.
The car lurched again and she corrected. “Come on, Ava, hang in there,” she muttered to her Toyota Avalon. “We can make it.”
The wind shifted, shooting snow directly into the windshield, and she reduced her speed again. Finally, when she was barely crawling along at twenty and still struggling to see through the barrage of fat, wet flakes, the car slid again. Instinctively, she turned the wheel, but it fishtailed again, and she turned the wheel the other direction to regain control.
But it didn't work.
The car slid toward the shoulder of the road.
Officially out of control, Ava hit a cement barrier with a sickening crunching sound, enough of an impact to slam Grace hard against the seat belt but not enough to deploy the airbag.
At least she was off the shoulder of the road, out of the path of other drivers who couldn't see through the snow, either.
Silence blanketed everything. The headlights flickered and went out, along with the dashboard illumination and the sounds of ABBA.
She took a moment to decide if she was hurt. Her shoulder ached where the seat belt had hit her and she'd probably gotten bruised. Other than that, nothing seemed broken or injured.
Waiting a moment for the adrenaline to fade, she lifted a still-trembling hand to restart the car. She needed to reach someplace warm.
When she turned the key, there was a click-click-clicking sound, but the car didn't start. After three more frantic tries, she realized it wasn't going to. She'd damaged her car. The Avalon was ten years old, but it had served her faithfully during her flush years and those more lean years taking care of her mother.
Eleven times nine is ninety-nine.
Had Ava really wheezed her last for the day? If so, Grace was stranded. And she still had a long, long way to go. Even Aspen Grove was nearly three miles away, much too far to walk in this storm.
A damaged car. Not much money. And now no heater. If she sat here long enough, maybe she'd turn into a popsicle. Popsicles didn't have many worries. Yeah, right. Until they got eaten.
Her heart sinking, Grace pulled out the new phone she'd bought just yesterday, relieved to see that there was 3G service here despite the storm, if one measly half-bar of service counted. Her fingers were already so cold she had trouble getting the touch screen to work. She blew on her fingertips and tried again.
When the Google screen popped up, she typed in Aspen Grove, California. A picturesque website popped up promising a winter Christmas festival and summer grapes and sunshine. She could use a little sunshine right about now.
She searched the site for the phone number for City Hall.
In a town of 2,500, surely there was at least one honest mechanic they could recommend, someone who would be willing to come out in a snow storm to rescue a damsel in distress.
Five times nine is forty-five.