Autumn Skies (Bluebell Inn Romance #3) - Denise Hunter Page 0,95

but also make the process enjoyable, and for that I am so grateful! Thanks also to my line editor, Julee Schwarzburg, whose attention to detail makes me look like a better writer than I really am.

Author Colleen Coble is my first reader and sister of my heart. Thank you, friend! This writing journey has been ever so much more fun because of you!

I’m grateful to my agent, Karen Solem, who’s able to somehow make sense of the legal garble of contracts and, even more amazing, help me understand it.

The town of Bluebell was inspired by the little town of Lake Lure, North Carolina. Don and Kim Cason, innkeepers of the beautiful historic Esmeralda Inn, were so kind to host my husband and me for a few days and answer all my pesky questions. If you’re looking to visit Chimney Rock and Lake Lure, I highly recommend it! https://theesmeralda.com

To my husband, Kevin, who has supported my dreams in every way possible—I’m so grateful! To all our kiddos: Chad, Trevor and Babette, and Justin and Hannah, who have favored us with a beautiful granddaughter. Every stage of parenthood has been a grand adventure, and I look forward to all the wonderful memories we have yet to make!

A hearty thank you to all the booksellers who make room on their shelves for my books—I’m deeply indebted! And to all the book bloggers and reviewers, whose passion for fiction is contagious—thank you!

Lastly, thank you, friends, for letting me share this story with you. I wouldn’t be doing this without you! Your notes, posts, and reviews keep me going on the days when writing doesn’t flow so easily. I appreciate your support more than you know.

I enjoy connecting with friends on my Facebook page, www.facebook.com/authordenisehunter. Please pop over and say hello. Visit my website at the link www.DeniseHunterBooks.com or just drop me a note at [email protected]. I’d love to hear from you!

Chapter 1

Maddy Monroe was cowering behind a ficus tree near the hostess station when her cell phone rang. Her hands shook as she silenced the phone before it drew the attention of the staff.

She jabbed the elevator button for the third time. “Come on, come on.” A star could be born in interstellar space, a polar valley carved by a glacier in the time it took the elevator to reach this floor. Stairs were not an option, as she was on the twentieth floor of the Waterford building and sporting heels.

She sniffled. Drat. She seemed to be crying. She swiped a hand under her eyes, heedless of her makeup.

She heard voices, Nick’s boisterous laugh. Maddy shrank deeper into the ficus and finally, finally, the elevator dinged its arrival.

“Maddy?” Noelle’s concerned voice tunneled down the hall. “Maddy, wait.”

“Oh, come on,” she muttered, tapping her fingers against her leg until the gold doors crept open. As soon as she could fit, she squeezed inside and punched the ground-floor button.

She didn’t draw a breath until the doors sealed and the elevator began to drop. She placed a palm over a heart that was threatening to beat its way out of her chest. Her white blouse clung to her back, and her skin prickled beneath her arms.

She closed her eyes, the scene that had just transpired playing out in fast-forward in her mind. And then, as if that montage weren’t painful enough, the image of Nick’s face appeared. The look on his face just before he’d kissed her good-bye last night.

Nick. She clamped her teeth together until her jaw ached.

There had been signs. Many of them, really, she was realizing now. They ranged from whisper-subtle to neon-sign obvious. But like so many other walking clichés before her, she was only seeing them in retrospect.

Maddy opened her eyes to the buttery sunlight streaming through her blinds. She scrambled for her iPhone to check the time. But as she did so, the events of yesterday washed over her like a tsunami. She didn’t have to get up at all, because she didn’t have a job anymore.

Her cell buzzed with an incoming call, and she squinted bleary-eyed at the unfamiliar number on the screen before declining it.

She drooped against her pillow, only now aware of how fat and swollen her eyes felt. Of the persistent achy lump pushing at the back of her throat. Her heartbeat made the bed quake. Her eyes burned with tears. Yesterday’s anger had faded, and something worse had filled its spot.

Yesterday she’d come home, changed into yoga pants, and worked in her little garden until she

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