Page 1 of Love At The Shore
Chapter One
Summer, here we come.
Jenna Turner stood with her arms crossed, studying the loaded trunk of the SUV. It was parked in the driveway of the cozy home she’d made for her family deep in Savannah’s Victorian district. She was just about ready to say goodbye to the surrounding trees dripping with Spanish moss and the rows of tidy houses dolled up in gingerbread trim. A temporary goodbye, anyway.
If the crammed state of her car was any indication, there wasn’t anything left inside her year-round home to pack. Just how much stuff did one adult and two kids need for five weeks at the beach?
All of it, apparently. All of the stuff.
Why did she get the feeling she was going to need a vacation to recover from all the packing and unpacking involved with moving into a beach house rental on Tybee Island? A vacation from her vacation.
She somehow wedged the antique typewriter that once belonged to her grandfather into the small space between her laptop and printer. It fit. Sort of. Jenna flashed a triumphant grin at her best friend, Maureen, who was making her way over from the house next door.
Maureen and her family were also headed to the beach for summer break. But as usual, while Jenna was strategically packing and organizing, Maureen strolled across the lawn as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Jenna envied her cute new summer wardrobe, in colors that perfectly complemented Maureen’s smooth dark complexion. She also envied her friend’s go-with-the-flow personality. Jenna’s own tendency to plan everything down to the finest detail could get a little exhausting. A lot exhausting, if she was really being honest.
“Hey,” Jenna said, giving the typewriter another shove.
Maureen aimed a bemused glance at the packed trunk. “Hey.”
“Every year we say we’re not going to bring too much, and every summer we’re bursting.” Honestly, it was mind-boggling.
“If you wouldn’t insist on bringing that thing…” Maureen pointed at the typewriter.
“Thatthingmay look like a dusty old antique, but it helps me brainstorm when I’m stuck. And considering I only have five weeks to finish my book, I need it.” She crossed her arms again and tried not to think about how quickly five weeks could pass. She could do this. Shehadto. “This whole sequel thing is much more difficult than I thought.”
A sequel. Her second book contract. Sometimes she had to give her arm a little pinch to remind herself that she’d actually written the book with her name on the cover currently sitting in the window display of her favorite bookshop on River Street.
Maureen grinned. “Then it’s a good thing you’ll be spending all summer with me for inspiration.”
“Absolutely.” Jenna laughed, despite the gnawing sense of panic that came over her whenever she thought about her deadline.
Maureen was right. They had the whole summer to look forward to—nothing but sun, sand and writing. It would be relaxing and productive, just what she needed.
“Hi, Maureen.” Nick, Jenna’s eleven-year-old son, bounded out of the house with his younger sister, Ally, hot on his heels.
“Bye, Maureen.” Ally waved as she and her brother made a beeline for the car.
Jenna held up her hands. “Wait, wait, wait: final check. Nick, did you grab your retainer?”
He nodded. “Yes-th, it’s in my mouth.”
“Please don’t pretend-lisp.” Jenna lifted a brow at the suspiciously empty-looking backpack hanging from her daughter’s slim shoulders. “Ally, did you get your summer reading?”
“You can just call it homework, Mom.”
“As long as you have it, sweetie. We can work on semantics later.” She was almost certain the books were packed in Ally’s luggage somewhere. Ally had always been a big reader, and now that she was nine years old, she’d begun devouring chapter books from the local library.
Given Ally’s sweet tooth, she’d probably reserved her backpack for the brownies Jenna had baked last night for their road trip.
“Can Grayson ride with us?” Nick shot Maureen a hopeful grin. Her son Grayson was Nick’s closest friend.
“If any of us were actually packed, yes.” Maureen sighed.
Nick and Ally piled into the backseat, which meant Jenna had approximately ten seconds to get behind the wheel or Ally would break out the brownies.
Still, she felt bad leaving her friend behind. “You sure you don’t want us to wait for you?”
“As much as I’d love to get my hands on your super-neat packing skills, you remember last year?” Ah, yes. Maureen’s husband, Ian, had spent nearly an hour trying to make room for their gas grill in the trunk of their car alongside their suitcases. It never fit. “And the year before?”
