Balsam Inn

Six years ago, her brother left me at the altar. I bundled up my veil along with my stupid dreams of a picture-perfect small town life, and I headed back to the city. I vowed to never leave again, but when the promotion of a lifetime at my interior design firm hangs on returning to the charming tourist town of La Cloche, I decide to brave the ghosts of heartbreak past. I never thought I'd be designing for her. Natalie Sinclair isn't just my ex-fiancé's little sister; she's also the reluctant new owner of the most gorgeous historic home in La Cloche. A mysterious inheritance has left her reeling. On the one hand, the house is the perfect opportunity to make her dream of running an artsy inn with her best friends come true. On the other, her latest art show ended in a disaster she's not sure her confidence or creativity will ever recover from. If I can convince Natalie to believe in herself, I can lock down the job and get my promotion. I'll just need to remember our lingering glances mean nothing. The way her laugh feels like it's bringing me back to life doesn't matter at all. Neither does my urge to thread my hands in her hair and pull her into a dark corner of the house we're both starting to love. I already fell for a Sinclair. I won't make the same mistake again.

The first time I met her, Jacinthe Gauthier-Laframboise was running screaming after an escaped donkey while covered in manure. It wasn't exactly a meet-cute, but luckily, I'm not looking for a relationship. Dating has been on the backburner ever since life threw a wrench and left me to raise my daughter on my own. I'm finally finding my feet again, and they've led me to the charming small town of La Cloche. It's the perfect place to grow my business as a farrier and create some stability for me and my kid. Unfortunately, Jacinthe makes me feel anything but stable. She's a chaotic whirlwind of a woman who doesn't know the meaning of the word quiet, but somehow, I can't get her out of my head. Or my house. She's my new landlady's daughter, and living on the same farm together means there's no escape: not from her devious dark eyes, her surprising moments of softness, or the way she's cracking open my heart just as fast as she's falling into my fantasies. Letting her in means risking my new life, but letting her go means giving up what might just be the very best thing in this town. I've gotten used to making tough choices, but this could be the most impossible one of all.