The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 1

The Secrets to My Success

Prequel

The Mountain Monroe Series

By

Melinda Curtis

Copyright © 2019 by Melinda Curtis

The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 2

Chapter One

“Daniel, you need to wrap this up, so it doesn’t become a story.”

Daniel Cross stared across his boss’ desk, a wide oak monstrosity built at least fifty years ago, probably about the same time Sirus Quinby began practicing law in Philadelphia.

Wrap it up? How many additional hours do I have to put in before Christmas?

He’d already logged in forty hours this week and it was only Wednesday afternoon. Not that the

hours themselves were unusual, but this time of year there was a memory that dragged his steps, an

emotional scar that refused to heal.

Mr. Quinby’s desk was piled high with thick manila folders filled with the last wills and testaments of

many of the wealthiest men and women in America. The heftiest folder sat open on the old man’s stained

blotter, that of Harlan Monroe, a self-made multi-millionaire. Harlan was dying and his legal affairs

weren’t buttoned up.

“Daniel, pay attention.” Mr. Quinby snapped his bone-thin fingers at his junior partner, an action that

seemed to exhaust him. He slumped, rumpling his pea green tie. “When I mentioned this to Harlan, your

name came up. Your name. All confidentiality agreements must be accounted for. We’re missing three.”

Only three? Out of nearly one hundred? Did this small loop-hole need to be closed before Christmas?

Daniel had a ritual around the holidays. He hunkered down in his apartment, saw no one and put that

ache in his heart to sleep reading decades old legal briefs. He avoided the rounds of gatherings, the

endless stream of shoppers – especially in crowded elevators – and didn’t emerge from his abode until

New Year’s Day.

Although this year, when his feet began to drag at Thanksgiving, he’d booked a trip to the Bahamas

for the holidays. His flight was scheduled to leave on Christmas Eve and not even work for Harlan

Monroe was going to put a kink in his plans. All he had to do was tell Mr. Quinby to send one of their

interns.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mr. Quinby said.

Oh, no. You don’t. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 3

“Only three agreements, Daniel. That’s what you’re thinking. And only a few days before the holiday.” The old man grabbed the stack of Christmas cards on his desk and shook them at Daniel.

“You’re thinking we can send a lowly intern.”

Daniel sat back in his chair. The old man never knew what he was thinking.

“Have you forgotten that I know what happened to you five Christmases ago?” Mr. Quinby smoothed

a strand of white hair away from his forehead. “I helped you get a good deal on that engagement ring. If

you’d just added a carat, as I suggested, she might have said yes.”

Daniel doubted a larger ring would have swayed Samantha Parker into saying yes.

She’d been given two proposals that Christmas Eve. One from Daniel and one from a magazine

publisher in New York. Sam hadn’t followed her heart. She’d followed her ambition.

“You don’t want to hide this Christmas.” Mr. Quinby closed the thick folder with a thump. “Five

years… That kind of anniversary can hold power over a man, a symbol of his failure. You want to get

away. You need to get away.”

“Yes.” The old man was practically reading his mind and knew he had to send someone else. Daniel

nodded, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Symbols. Yeah, symbols were important. He might even

add a second bathing suit to the small duffle he’d packed for his trip. Daniel stood. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” The ancient man flattened his pale hands on his desk and levered

himself to his feet. “Now, gather the paperwork, make the arrangements, and pack your parka. You’re

getting away this year. You’re going to Second Chance, Idaho, to get these three agreements signed.”

*

“Sam, you need to wrap up the loose ends of this story.”

Samantha Parker stared across her boss’ scarred oak desk, over piles of folded newspapers and stacks

of magazines, beyond a collection of stained coffee mugs Charlie refused to return to the break room.

A recent copy of For the Times sat open on Charlie’s desk, turned to an article she’d written nearly

five years ago on Harlan Monroe and his influence on business in America. It was hard to believe it was The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 4

time to revisit the man’s legacy. Harder still to believe Harlan was dying.

“Sam, pay attention.” Charlie Gomez snapped his fingers, an action that seemed to invigorate him. He leaned forward, brushing empty coffee mugs to the side with a clatter. “Something’s up with Harlan

Monroe. My sources tell me there’s something hinky going on at the Monroe compound in Philly.

Lawyers have been dropping in and out for days.”

Tension rat-a-tat-tatted on the back of Sam’s neck, like cold, stiff fingers on a new keyboard.

Was Daniel still one of Harlan’s lawyers?

Thoughts of Daniel had Sam’s shoulders curling inward. She hated the way things had ended between

them. He had every right to think poorly of her. Every right except one: He hadn’t waited to hear the

explanation behind her rejection.

That didn’t mean she didn’t lie awake at night formulating conversations with him in her head, ones

where she was able to say: I’m sorry. I miss you. Can you ever forgive me?

That didn’t mean she was ready to see Daniel again.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Charlie’s characteristic grumble smoothed into civilized tones.

“You’re thinking I want you to work your contacts at Harlan’s legal firm, the one that opened the door for

your interview with him.”

Sam sat back, aghast. She hadn’t been thinking that at all.

“And you’d be right.” Charlie slapped the magazine closed. “We need another scoop on the old man

and his plans. Is he leaving his fortune to charity? To his cat? Remember how he told you he was never

forgiving his four sons for forcing him out of power? He said the game wasn’t over.” Charlie pounded the

desk with his large fist. “We need to know what happens next.”

“No one’s going to know, except his lawyers.” Again, a cold feeling crept down her spine. “And

whatever contacts I used to have at his law firm…” Whatever man she used to love. “…are probably

gone. I mean…” And here, she attempted a laugh that sounded more like a dying man’s last gasp for air.

“Five years is a long time.”

Time enough for hearts to heal and men to get over the love they’d once shared. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 5

Not that her heart had healed.

Geez, she needed to get a social life.

“It’s worth a look.” Charlie tossed the magazine on one of the piles on his desk. “Harlan could be setting up the last laugh. He always was an odd duck.”

“He wasn’t odd. He was brilliant. And frugal.” The one man in his large family who didn’t seem to value the trappings of wealth. “His sons built him a palace in Philadelphia – the Monroe Compound. And do you know what Harlan did?”

“He built a log cabin in the back yard.” Charlie rocked back in his chair and stroked the peppery stubble on his chin. “He’s been married to some of the most beautiful, most talented, most intelligent women in America. He’s made an art form of buying businesses on the brink of bankruptcy and turning them around. A man like that… A man who has everything… And he builds a log cabin? Tell me that’s not odd.”

It wasn’t odd. It was a genuine act to stay in touch with what had made him so successful in the first place. Harlan Monroe had an endless curiosity about the world and a heart that made no distinction between blood relatives and strangers. He was a philanthropist with few equals in his tax bracket. His sons and twelve grandchildren worked across every aspect of his businesses – hotels, a Hollywood production studio, oil, finance, yacht building. Not to mention other businesses he’d picked up along the way. Most men would lose themselves in their quest to increase their fortunes and power. Not Harlan.

Grief invaded her throat and squeezed.

Harlan Monroe. He’d been her first big interview when she’d arrived at For the Times. During their afternoon together, Harlan had noticed something was bothering her. She’d been second-guessing the

choices she’d made with Daniel. Over the course of the next hour, Harlan had practically interviewed her!

He’d given her advice – only look back with gratitude. And then he’d given her the most wonderful

interview, more than a green magazine reporter should expect. But more than that, he hadn’t forgotten

her. He sent her a Christmas card every year with a note of encouragement. Just a few weeks ago, she’d

received his annual missive with a few words scrawled in his loopy handwriting. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 6

Grief gathered tears in her eyes. She fingered a hole in the seams of her jeans, working the soft cotton out of habit. “How close is he to the end?” If Harlan’s time was near, there’d be no point running down leads to see if anyone would talk.

There’d be no risk of seeing Daniel again.

“He’s got days. Hours. No one’s saying.” Charlie adjusted his glasses and stared her down. “We need to be first mover on this story. Yeah, yeah.” He waved her complaints away before she could give them voice. “It’s only a week before Christmas. But I need you to ferret out the truth before Harlan kicks the bucket. I know you usually spend the holidays with your sister, but I need this. And the magazine is willing to pay.”

He wanted her to miss Christmas with Amy?

“No.” Sam stood.

She was halfway to the door when Charlie mentioned a dollar figure. A very large dollar figure.

The price of Amy’s care was steep and getting steeper. That bonus…

It was worth making a few phone calls, maybe postponing Christmas a few days.

But was it worth seeing Daniel again?

The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 7

Chapter Two

Second Chance, Idaho, looked like a snow-covered Christmas card – old buildings and log cabins edging a winding, mostly iced-over river that overlooked a snow-blanketed valley leading to the towering

Sawtooth Mountains.

Located at the intersection of two ribbons of mountain highway, in the summer it was probably nothing much to stop for – a diner, repair garage and general store, a huge inn made of long round pines, most likely Lodgepole pines given the name of the place was the Lodgepole Inn.

Daniel parked in front of the inn as the sky was growing dark and peered at the Christmas tree in the window, the big wreath on the door, and then the empty parking spaces.

His father used to say, “Never stop at a motel with a vacant parking lot.” Dad ought to know. He’d been a cross-country truck driver. But he’d also had a sleeper behind his seat.

Lacking such a luxury, Daniel grabbed his duffle and laptop bag, and traipsed through the snow to the inn.

Inside, the log walls were just as round as they were outside. A fire roared in a stone fireplace big enough to cook in. A television was mounted on the wall above it, currently tuned to an ice skating competition. A couch and an assortment of mismatched chairs were scattered about the room but were as empty as the parking spaces out front.

“Can I help you?” A sprite with long, reddish-blond hair and braces sat behind the narrow check in counter.

Daniel glanced around, looking for an adult. The only thing taller than the girl in front of him was the

Christmas tree. “Reservation for Cross.”

“Got it. I’m Gabby.” The pre-teen handed him a registration sheet to fill out. “Dad said to put you in the Sawtooth room at the top of the stairs.” She pointed toward the steep staircase. “There’s a kitchenette at the bottom here where you can find granola bars, coffee, water, and a microwave. The general store and diner are open from seven to seven.” She delivered the information in a rote tone, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “If you choose the Bent Nickel Diner, I recommend you stay away from the house The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 8

special. Just don’t tell Ivy I warned you off her cooking.”

Gabby was proving aptly named. Daniel filled out the form and handed over his credit card.

“We’ve got you for two nights.” The kid processed his plastic efficiently. “Are you visiting or…” She

stared at him with an intelligent gaze and kept his credit card hostage while she waited for his answer.

“I’m Harlan Monroe’s lawyer.” Well, one of many.

“Oh.” She blinked, and then processed him with this new information, glancing at his credit card and then back to him. “It’s time to renew our lease again.”

“Yes.” He supposed it was. “January first.”

Against the firm’s advice, Harlan Monroe had purchased Second Chance a decade before for reasons he’d kept to himself. However, the residents had been granted one year leases for the reasonable price of one dollar a year.

“I think my dad already signed our paperwork.” She fiddled with a wooden key ring. “He’ll be back soon. Dad, Mackenzie and Doc went to the summit where a school bus skidded off the road.” She didn’t miss a beat as she changed the subject. “Is everything all right with our lease?” Gabby bit her lip as if she regretted asking.

“As far as I know, all is good.” He shouldn’t say anything. The leases were handled by a different set of attorneys in his firm. But he wanted to ease the girl’s obvious distress.

“Whew.” Gabby handed Daniel his room key. “That’s a relief. Give me a shout if you need anything.”

The desk phone jangled.

“That’s probably Dad now.” She answered the land line and hunched over the counter, dismissing

Daniel.

He dropped off his things in his spartan room, ate at the diner (avoiding the house special), and was returning to the inn when three SUVs pulled up in front. Out tumbled a bevy of high school kids, clutching instruments and cell phones. They noisily streamed into the inn ahead of Daniel, followed by what looked like a band director (clutching a clipboard), a handful of relieved looking parents, and a The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 9

straggler shouldering a backpack as if it was stuffed with the weight of the world.

A redheaded straggler who watched where she put her feet.

A redheaded straggler wearing a thick blue jacket that had seen better days five years ago.

Samantha Parker.

Daniel stopped in the snow, the cold nipping at his toes no competition for the chill icing his heart.

Sam Parker.

The woman he’d met while trapped on an elevator before Christmas five years ago. The woman he’d

proposed to five days later – on Christmas Eve. He should have known true love didn’t blossom in five

days. Sam Parker had used him, capitalizing on her brief connection to Daniel to meet Harlan Monroe,

which had nearly cost Daniel his partnership.

Dad always warned me about strangers and strays.

At the porch stairs, Sam paused, as if sensing she was being watched. She turned his way.

Their eyes met. Hers a soft blue reminiscent of Tiffany ribbons and velvet boxes.

Any question Daniel might have had about why she was here – Was she somehow a part of the stranded high school band? – disappeared when he realized she wasn’t surprised to see him.

His frozen heart cracked like thin ice on a deep lake, the pieces floating in opposite directions. He wasn’t interested in pulling them back together again.

Sam Parker had toyed with his heart five years ago.

He wasn’t going to let her use him again.

*

Some people had perfect timing – right place, right time, the fickle blessing of luck.

Sam was just the opposite. Life came at her hard and just kept on kicking.

Heart pounding, she stared across the parking lot at Daniel. At the callous brown eyes of a corporate attorney who’d learned the hard way not to trust. At a man who’d offered her the world at the exact moment she couldn’t accept. He was bundled up as thickly as if he was going to a football game in the The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 10

middle of a snowstorm – jacket, scarf, hat, gloves – off-limits to the cold and a former love.

Daniel didn’t smile or call a greeting, didn’t pretend there wasn’t water under the bridge or leave her an opening for apologies and forgiveness. On the other hand, he didn’t stomp toward her spouting accusations like, “You heartless hussy!”

In the scheme of things, that had to be a win, right?

Sam took that small victory and ascended the stairs, entering the Lodgepole Inn and soaking up its

quaint downstairs bed-and-breakfast vibe.

Immediately, she wanted to head back out into the snow.

It sounded like an orchestra was tuning up to play. Woodwinds. Horns. Drums. Except this wasn’t the

New York Symphony Orchestra. This band was off-beat, off-key and off-putting.

Teens scurried up and down the stairs, laughed in front of the fire, clung to a few adult chaperones

and their band director as room keys were handed out quicker than free movie passes at a radio station

appearance.

“Really?” Daniel materialized at her side, anger coming off of him as readily as the dusting of snow

that fell to the floor from his coat. “You showed up here? What a coincidence.”

“I’m sorry, I… Can we not do this now?” Sam cast him a sideways glance and shoved her shaking

hands in her jacket pockets. “I just drove under a bus.” There’d been white out conditions near the top of

the summit, and she’d crashed into the school bus a minute or so after they’d slid halfway off the road

into a ditch. “And then I waited at the top of the mountain for someone else to crash into me.” To be

pancaked. Crushed. Rendered a shell of her physical self as Amy had been, as Amy still was despite

numerous surgeries and years of rehab.

She couldn’t tell if her hands were shaking because of the accident or because Daniel was standing

next to her.

He fell silent, which for Daniel meant he was using the considerable restraint he was so well known

for in legal circles and in court.

Yes, she’d asked around after they parted. That’s what reporters did. They asked questions, even after The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 11

personal break-ups. They stayed friends with their ex’s co-workers, his assistant, his doorman. They kept tabs like a cop did his confidential informants.

The band was either playing Here Comes Santa Claus or Walking in a Winter Wonderland.

She hoped the rooms had sound-proofing. She hoped Daniel didn’t notice her trembling.

“Cut to the chase. What are you doing here?” Daniel demanded, unrestrained. His brown eyes flashed. His stubbled jaw clenched. And his mouth formed a firm line, as if he was trying to X-out the memory of those five wonderful days they’d spent together.

Sam didn’t want to be erased from his heart. She remembered the feel of those whiskers beneath her palm. The way his eyes used to darken when he looked at her. How his smile softened right before they kissed. She remembered the way love lightened her steps and her burdens.

“Sam,” Daniel said impatiently.

“I was just passing through,” Sam replied. Hardly. She’d snuck on his flight and tipped the rental car agent to divulge his destination.

A clarinet squawked. Her shoulders spasmed. It sounded too much like metal cringing against metal.

Daniel seemed immune to the noise or her nerves. “Passing through on your way to…”

“The north pole. One wrong turn and oops. Here I am.” Sam mustered a smile. “What are you doing here?”

He pressed his lips together once more. Shutting her out. Making her ache with loneliness.

As quickly as they’d run inside, the band kids and adults disappeared. The handsome man working

the check-in desk high fived a cute pre-teen with braces.

Sam stepped up to the check-in counter. “Excuse me. I’d like a room.”

The man and girl faced her, triumphant expressions tumbling to the floor.

“Oh.” The man’s expression lowered into Thinker’s-Brow. “I’m Mitch. I run the inn with my daughter, Gabby. I thought you were with the band.”

“It’s the hair.” Sam fluffed her brash red locks, which got her nothing. Not a smile. Not a polite laugh. And most notably, not a room for the night. “I’m with the band,” she mumbled. “That’s a groupie The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 12

joke.”

It fell as flat as the horn section blowing above them.

“We established previously that you can’t tell a joke.” Daniel turned to look at the Christmas tree and then turned back on a sigh, staring at the staircase.

“Oh. I thought you were with Mr. Cross.” Gabby’s expression said uh-oh louder than the short notes coming from a trumpet upstairs.

Uh-oh, as in the rooms aren’t sound-proofed? Or uh-oh, as in there are no more rooms?

“She’s not with me,” Daniel said in that controlled voice of his.

“I’m sorry, but…” Mitch cleared his throat. “We’re out of rooms.”

“Okay.” Not ideal. Sam settled her backpack more firmly on her shoulder, clenching her fingers to control their tremble. “How far is it to the nearest hotel?”

“About sixty miles. Right, Dad?” Gabby, trying to be helpful.

“That far?” Sam pointed her thumb toward the mountain from whence she’d come. “My rental car is

on the side of the road with the school bus. I can’t get anywhere from here.” And it was highly unlikely she could order an Uber or a Lyft, much less a more traditional taxi, which this town didn’t look big enough to have.

“Tough luck, Sam.” Daniel headed toward the stairs.

“You two know each other?” Mitch asked hopefully. Some might have found him handsome, if not for the furrows of regret in his brow.

“No,” Sam said quickly. “I mean, yes, but we’re not together.”

“I won’t be sharing my room with Ms. Parker.” Daniel paused on the stairs. He would always be her

kind of handsome – kind eyes, a kind touch, a kind of lost look to him after they kissed. Not that she was

on the receiving end of anything but his scorn now.

“I can sleep on the couch.” Sam ignored the toots, squawks and bangs from the second floor. “I bet

the rental car company will send out a replacement car tomorrow.” The couch didn’t look near as

uncomfortable as some of the hospital chairs she’d slept in. And if Sam hadn’t uncovered what Daniel The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 13

was doing here by tomorrow, she might be able to rent a room from someone else in town.

“We-ell.” Mitch continued to look uncomfortable. “The pass might be snowed in and the rental agency might not be able to get through.” At Sam’s gasp, he added, “I mean, it’s just a prediction from

the weather service.”

“But Dad,” Gabby said in that helpful way of hers. “Didn’t you tell me a few weeks ago the weather

service is correct ninety-nine percent of the time when it predicts snow on the pass?”

“Not now, Gabby.” Mitch shooed his daughter into the apartment behind the desk.

Daniel disappeared up the stairs to what might have been the horn section attempting You’re a Mean

One, Mr. Grinch.

Mitch faced Sam. “I’ll get you some blankets. You can use our shower in the morning. No charge.”

He handed her a registration form. “I still need you to sign in though.”

“Sure.” Sam scribbled illegibly on the form, a combination of speed and the lingering aftershock that

she could have ended up like Amy on that mountain pass. Or died. “You don’t happen to know why

Harlan Monroe’s lawyer would be in town, would you?”

“Who’s asking?”

Sam looked up sharply. Mitch stared down his nose at her, all traces of a welcoming, apologetic

innkeeper gone.

“Samantha Parker.” She handed him her registration form and smiled as if she hadn’t picked up on

his judgmental change of attitude. “I’m a reporter with For the Times magazine.”

“Sorry. Don’t know a thing.” He tucked her paperwork in a folder. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

Blanket. As in one.

“Welcome to Second Chance,” Sam mumbled, reaching for her cell phone so she could text Amy

she’d arrived in one piece.

Whether her heart left in one piece…that was another story.

*

The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 14

Exhausted, Daniel dug in his duffle, past the travel size suntan lotion, past his pair of swimming trunks, and into his travel kit.

Thank heavens he traveled with ear plugs. It’d been a long disappointing day and he was ready for a

good night’s sleep. Not that ear plugs could shut out memories of Sam and his rejected proposal.

Five years ago, he’d surprised himself by rushing headlong into love. Of course, that had ended

badly. It was the equivalent of rushing a big case and missing something important. Like the fact that Sam

didn’t love him back.

The high school kids chattered and tooted their horns, showing no sign of giving up on the day’s

excitement. Leave it to teenagers to emerge resiliently from an auto accident.

Sam had been more shaken than the band. He’d been hard-pressed to keep himself from comforting her. Despite that unnatural, strong shade of red she kept her hair, Sam was fragile. Her benchline expression had always been tentative, as if waiting for bad news she was sure was coming. Her steps always carefully placed. And her clothes… She’d picked another worry hole in the seam of her jeans.

Every person, every driver, every athlete has a tell.

His father had a plethora of life lessons. When he was home, he’d made sure to use every opportunity to fill Daniel’s head with them.

You don’t just have to see the tell. You have to know what it means.

It was hard to believe Sam had anything to worry about. She had a great job and was building a name

for herself as a respected business reporter. But there was the hole in her jeans, the worn jacket, and the

brightly dyed red hair. She was wearing a mask and had been since they’d met. What was she hiding

from?

I need to stop thinking about her.

And Daniel did, at least until he laid in bed on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the

music his ear plugs couldn’t shut out completely. Someone on a flute played the chorus of Over the River

and Through the Woods repeatedly. Each time with the same mistake.

Life is hardest on those who refuse to learn their lesson, his father used to say. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 15

The same mistake.

Five years. That was a long time to bury oneself in work and try not to think about Samantha Parker.

Maybe this was life throwing Daniel another hard ball – fast and inside, a pitch that would send the batter jumping out of the box, only to return with a warier outlook.

Daniel washed his hands over his face. Sports metaphors never solved anything.

He needed to close out the paperwork for Harlan Monroe and then jet to the Bahamas, where the hot sun and a cool tropical drink would help him forget Sam Parker forever.

The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 16

Chapter Three

Bleary-eyed, Sam trudged through the thickly falling snow the next morning to the Bent Nickel Diner two doors down.

The high school kids hadn’t settled down until nearly one a.m., despite their chaperones encouraging

them to do so. Revelry had been trumpeted at five a.m., followed by intense laughter that shook the inn

and then a continuation of the mutilation of Christmas classics. She’d never be able to listen to Deck the

Halls again without remembering the way the band had played it – as if it was an off-key, round robin

singalong.

She didn’t feel up to the game she needed to play – to uncover the legal ins and outs of Harlan’s last

wishes. But she needed to earn that bonus.

Sam pushed through the glass door into the warmth of the diner and stopped.

The Bent Nickel was a throw-back to the era of chrome and green pleather. Booths lined both sides.

Formica tables filled the middle. And a big L-shaped counter had a set of stools any kid would like to

give a spin. Garland draped every table, every counter. Christmas music was piped through the sound

system in the kitchen. For a girl raised in a small town, this was a warm burst of nostalgia.

And then she spotted where all that physical warmth was coming from – a wood stove in the front

corner.

“One blanket,” she muttered. It hadn’t been enough.

“You look like you could use coffee.” The feminine voice was extremely welcome. It belonged to a woman who looked to be in her thirties. Her brown hair was in a neat bun. Her make-up minimal. There was a very large vat of coffee on a table with a sign that said, “Pay as you go.” Without waiting for an answer, the woman poured a steaming mug for Sam. “I’m Ivy. Are you one of the stranded?”

“Yes. Yes to coffee. Yes to being stranded.” The coffee was strong and black. The booth more comfortable than the inn’s couch. And she was warm. Sam glowed up at Ivy. “If you have waffles, I’ll be in heaven.”

“We do have waffles, but they’re the frozen kind my son likes. Fresh carbs are pancakes.” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 17

“Pancakes it is.” Sam texted Amy to see how she was doing. Six weeks ago, her sister had gone through another surgery to repair her spine. She was still in a rehab hospital, hoping to be released by

Christmas.

Duty fulfilled, Sam took the Christmas cards Harlan had sent her over the years from her backpack and laid them on the table. Each contained a personal note from the wealthy man.

She flipped open the first card she’d received and silently read, “Having a wonderful year. Expecting the grandchildren to visit. They’re ornery but make me so darn proud. Speaking of which, great article on the impact of tax incentives on big business.” And beneath his signature, “Remember, don’t harbor any regrets.”

Don’t harbor regrets? Sam chuckled.

Harlan was like her own personal fortune cookie.

And the year after that, “For the first time in my life I have to admit aging isn’t fun. The eighties are most definitely not the new thirties. And yes, I read your article on Millennials building the entrepreneur economy. You have a way of looking at the world that makes a person think. Don’t forget to take a calculated risk or two this year. Wouldn’t want you to build a reputation for playing it safe.”

Had she taken any risks that year? She couldn’t remember.

More recently, he’d written, “At my age, you have to keep things brief and stick to the facts. I take it since your address is the same and I’ve yet to receive a wedding invitation that you’re still single. By the time I was your age, I’d already been married twice. Think about that on New Year’s Eve.”

She’d laughed when she’d read his card, and then been glum when she’d watched the ball drop in

Times Square. Alone.

Her latest card read, “Took me a long time to write my cards this year. Can you believe my secretary wanted to write a holiday letter for me? Like some kind of press release? That’s not what the holidays are all about. I’ve always been a firm believer in starting over. Hope you believe in Second Chances, too.”

“Second Chances,” she murmured, turning to gaze out the window at the town, but seeing nothing but

snow. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 18

The door opened and a wiry old man entered with a rolling gait. He wore blue coveralls and a thick green jacket, the latter of which he tossed in a chair near the wood stove. “It’s a beautiful day in Second

Chance.” He headed straight for the coffee pot, poured himself a mug and then approached Sam. “I’m

Roy, the town handyman. Is one of those band kids yours?”

“Nope.” Her ego took a hit. She was barely twenty-eight and Roy thought she was old enough to have a high school teenager. She finger-combed her hair. Apparently, the night on the couch and lack of a shower had aged her a decade. “Do you know Harlan Monroe?”

The old man leaned a hand on her table. “Depends on who’s askin’? Friend or foe?”

“Friend.”

“Foe.” Daniel marched across the diner. He carried his laptop bag and an attitude that stole the heat

from the room.

“Friend. I know Harlan,” Sam protested. “We exchange Christmas cards every year.” She tapped the

evidence before her.

Daniel scoffed.

“Hey.” Roy examined her Christmas cards. “Those are all photos of Second Chance.”

“Really?” Sam looked at them with heightened interest.

“I guess you do know him.” He patted her shoulder.

“Oh, she knows Harlan, all right,” Daniel said flatly. “But Sam isn’t his friend. She wrote a magazine

article about him five years ago.”

“I read that article.” Roy seemed unimpressed. “It didn’t mention Second Chance, at all.”

Before Sam could ask why it would, Daniel said, “I’ll take the credit – or the blame – for that interview.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the counter, facing Sam. “I introduced

them, after all. Sam here showed up at the exact time I was scheduled to meet Harlan. I’m the secret to

her success.”

“That was a coincidence.” Truth. “You’re just upset because I took advantage of our meeting to ask

Harlan for an interview. You know, luck is just preparation colliding with opportunity.” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 19

“Or just opportunists,” Daniel muttered.

Sam’s heart panged. She didn’t want Daniel to think of her like that. Her fingers found the hole in the seam of her jeans.

“You two know each other?” Roy asked, frowning.

“Not really,” Daniel said, at the same time Sam decided to be ornery and say, “Yes. We were this close to getting married.”

“Except I skimped on the carats and she turned me down.” Daniel scowled into his coffee cup.

“Your carats and your connections were the least of my worries that day.” Reality had intruded on their brief wonderland. Amy had been told she needed another surgery in New York and Sam had been wondering how she’d tell Daniel she was leaving Philadelphia for good. “If you’d stayed around long enough to ask…”

She still would have turned him down. Her parents had never managed money well, Amy needed to be in New York for the best medical care, long term romantic relationships never worked. Everyone said so.

“It’s not good to put so much emphasis on material things.” Roy tugged down the yellowed long johns beneath his blue coverall cuffs. “Look at me. I live modestly and ain’t never been happier.”

“I don’t think we’ve met.” Daniel introduced himself and when Roy gave his name, he practically hugged the man, he was so happy. “I’m one of Harlan’s lawyers. I have a document I need you to sign.”

“Is Harlan leaving you something, Roy?” Sam asked. And if so, why would he need to sign paperwork before Harlan died?

“Don’t answer that,” Daniel said in a barbed voice that sliced the stitches that had been holding Sam’s heart together since she’d given him up.

“Daniel, I was just being polite.” Not. But still…

“You were being nosey.” Sparing Sam a wry smile that let her know he was on to her, Daniel beckoned Roy closer. “Could you come with me to the general store?”

“Why? You gonna buy me a parting gift from Harlan?” Roy winked at Sam. “He doesn’t owe me The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 20

anything. Harlan knows I don’t harbor grudges or regrets. You’ve gotta look at the past with a positive spin or it’ll eat you up inside.”

That sounded like something Harlan would say.

“Regardless,” Daniel persisted. “I need you to come with me to the general store.” Despite the old man’s protests, Daniel convinced him to leave.

Daniel wanted his privacy. In the general store, of all places.

Huh.

“Prickly thing, isn’t he?” Ivy delivered Sam’s pancakes. “That man of yours.”

“He’s not mine.” No matter how much she’d wished it five years ago.

“But…” Ivy frowned, picking up one of Harlan’s holiday cards. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“We have a past.” Sam buttered her pancakes, but the thrill of comfort food wasn’t the same. “I wish…” She set down her knife and stared up at Ivy. “It’s silly, I know, but I wish he’d forgive me. I wish we could be friends again.”

“Oh, honey.” Ivy squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t take his quick exit personally. He’s a lawyer and

Mackenzie at the general store is a notary. He’ll be back.”

Sam shook off the sleep-deprived bleariness.

Of course, Daniel would be back. The man had to eat. And while he was eating, Sam was going to see

if Mackenzie at the general store had anything to say about the document she’d notarized.

Sam felt energized, the same way she always did when she was on the trail of a good story. She

picked up the syrup and drenched her short stack. “Ivy, you and these pancakes have just made my

morning.”

*

“I signed my life away a decade ago.” Roy continued to complain while they waited for Mackenzie to

return with her notary book from the back room.

“But you didn’t sign your non-disclosure agreement.” Feeling as numb as he’d been when his The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 21

proposal had been rejected, Daniel drew Roy’s paperwork from his laptop bag and placed it on the check- out counter, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on the plethora of Christmas decorations around him or what Sam had said a few minutes ago in the diner.

Your carats and your connections were the least of my worries that day.

If you’d stayed around long enough to ask…

If he’d have stayed, what would she have said?

It’s too soon.

I only met you five days ago.

I only slept with you because Harlan Monroe is one of your clients.

That much, he could decipher on his own.

“What’s this all about?” Roy interrupted Daniel’s thoughts.

Daniel pushed the agreement toward him. “Read it.”

Roy pushed it back. “I didn’t bring my readers. Give it to me in a nutshell.”

Mackenzie appeared with a rectangular notary record, an ink pad, and a pen. She seemed to be about

Samantha’s age, only with natural brown hair and jeans with all seams intact. “If it’s that non-disclosure agreement Harlan had me sign, it says you can’t tell any stories about Harlan to anyone for a year after his death.”

“That’s the one.” Daniel slid the papers toward Roy.

“And what if I say something?” Roy crossed his gangly arms over his chest.

Mackenzie flipped open her book. “You’ll be responsible for any financial damages you cause one of the Monroe companies.”

“Loose lips sink ships,” Roy whispered, face growing pale. “I could ruin something in a day.”

“Exactly.” Daniel nodded crisply. “When we’re done, I need the same agreements from Odette and

Phyllis.” He hadn’t wanted to ask around for help locating residents in the diner with Sam listening in, but she wasn’t here, and the Bahamas were beckoning. “Are they coming into town today?”

“In this storm?” Roy scoffed. “Odette and Flip don’t come into town on a sunny day.” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 22

“I can go to them.” Daniel tried to catch Mackenzie’s eye and failed. “If Mackenzie can come with me.” Signatures weren’t valid without being notarized.

“It’s not supposed to stop snowing until midnight.” Mackenzie busied herself filling out boxes in her

book. “Nobody’s going farther than the inn or the diner today.”

So much for getting out of Second Chance and away from Christmas.

So much for getting away from Sam.

The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 23

Chapter Four

A sack of potatoes tumbled down the stairs.

Startled awake, Sam sat up on the couch, clutching the thin blanket to her chest and shivering. “Are you all right?” Whoever you are.

The first gray light of dawn was coming through the inn’s windows. She hurried over to the landing and turned on the light, expecting to see one of the band members, if not the entire off-key bugle corps.

But it was Daniel sprawled on the floor, grimacing and holding his ankle.

“Are you all right?” She knelt next to him, closer than she’d been since check-in, since he’d spent all day yesterday in his room. He hadn’t eaten at the diner, nor had Mackenzie offered any new information about Harlan.

Mitch flung the door to his apartment open and took in the scene. “Did you fall?” he asked Daniel, before eyeing Sam. “Or were you pushed?”

“Hey.” Sam scowled at Mr. One Blanket. “That was uncalled for.”

“You pushed him, all right,” Mitch said, as definitively as a judge administering punishment to a repeat offender.

“It’s my own fault,” Daniel said before Sam could defend herself. “I didn’t want to wake…anyone.”

He got to his feet but didn’t put any weight on his injured leg. “I have an appointment.”

“Were you afraid I’d follow you?” The question was unnecessary, because the answer was obvious: yes.

“Not afraid.” Daniel’s laptop bag was on the floor. He bent to retrieve it, settling it on his shoulder.

He took a few halting steps toward the door, not quite the way he’d done five years before. But he was

leaving Sam all the same.

“Stop right there,” Mitch commanded. “Sit down. I’m calling Doc.”

“No need.” Daniel almost made it to the door before he stumbled.

“Yes, there is a need. It’s called liability.” Mitch picked up the landline and dialed. “My liability.

Samantha, escort him to a chair.” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 24

Sam took the excuse to hurry to Daniel’s side, grab his hand and slip under his arm.

None of which he took well. Daniel was stiffer than a snowman in a blizzard.

“I’m sorry you fell. I… I’ve missed you,” she blurted, holding her breath as she waited for the inevitable put-down.

Daniel said nothing as she helped him toward a chair near the cold fireplace. Instead, the arm around her shoulders relaxed. His fingers curled around hers. “Thanks for going slow.”

She helped him into a chair, placing his laptop bag on the coffee table a few feet away. “I’ve had a lot of practice helping convalescents.”

A few minutes later as the sun was coming up, the bearded doctor entered the inn. He removed his jacket, but not his black leather gloves. “Bad sprain,” he pronounced after prodding Daniel’s foot and ankle. “I’ll wrap it for you. But you’ll need to ice and elevate.”

An old woman with short, wiry hair and several layers of colorful clothes slipped into the inn and stood by the Christmas tree. “Doc, you missed my appointment.”

“Odette, you don’t have an appointment,” the doctor said in a gruff voice, as if Odette never had an appointment. Ever.

Daniel stared at the newcomer with more than casual interest. And then he looked at Sam, as if gauging how much she was reading into his interest.

He has business with her.

Daniel nodded, but said nothing.

“But I saw you were up.” Odette planted her feet near Daniel. Her red snow pants rustled as she fidgeted. “And Doc, I could be dying.”

“The universe wouldn’t give me such a lucky break.” The doctor glanced up at Sam. “Ignore us.

Odette is my stalker.”

The horn section began to play a discordant version of Carol of the Bells.

“Are they playing…” Odette cocked her head. “Beyoncé?”

“Not even close.” Doc rolled his eyes. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 25

Sam and Daniel’s gazes met. Held. They both tried very hard not to smile. And then as the connection strengthened, their smiles fell.

Sam’s heart stuttered.

Not again. Please, not again.

She couldn’t take falling for him a second time only to lose him over a story.

“I better get a good online review after the band’s stay,” Mitch muttered.

“Are you a nurse?” Odette asked Sam. “You’re hovering and I don’t see any blood on Doc’s patient here.” She gestured toward Daniel. “If you’re a nurse, you can check my blood pressure.”

“Your blood pressure is fine.” Doc frowned at his wrap-job of Daniel’s ankle. He flexed his gloved fingers and began undoing his work. “It’s my blood pressure that’s high.”

“I can take your blood pressure if the doctor has a cuff,” Sam said. Portable cuffs weren’t always as precise as bigger models, but Sam knew how to use them.

“So, you are a nurse.” Odette smiled, but it was a calculating smile, an oh-here’s-someone-I-can-use- as-backup smile.

Doc dug in his bag and handed Sam a small blood pressure cuff. Odette hurriedly removed her jacket, sat down on the couch and slid up her sleeve.

“I’m not a nurse.” Sam put the cuff on the old woman. “I help care for my sister. She was in an automobile accident over five years ago. She has more metal in her body than the Terminator. I’m her primary caregiver.”

“Sam.” Daniel’s voice had rough edges. Rough, not sharp. “Samantha. You never said a word.” His gaze was five years gone by warm.

Sam smiled apologetically. “It had only just happened. There was family drama. Everything was too raw.” Too personal to share with a man she’d met by chance and fallen for hard.

Odette twisted, holding the cuff toward Sam. “Too tight.”

“You have to relax for it to work,” Doc said in a gentle voice, examining his work and finding it satisfactory. He began packing up his supplies. Almost as an afterthought, he released Odette’s blood The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 26

pressure cuff. “I pronounce your blood pressure normal.”

“I demand a recount,” the old woman said mulishly, grabbing her jacket and thrusting her arms in the sleeves.

Upstairs, a clarinet added its squeaky voice to the trumpet.

“Wait. Odette. I called yesterday about an appointment this morning,” Daniel said. “I have papers for you to sign regarding your property sale to Harlan Monroe.”

Property sale? Sam’s ears perked up.

Odette waved him off, headed toward the door. “I’ve already autographed more pieces of paper for

Harlan than Oprah at a movie premier.”

“It’s nice to be so well-loved, isn’t it? Like Oprah?” Daniel lurched forward, nearly kicking. “Doc I have the paper right…”

His briefcase was out of reach on the coffee table.

“I’m too sickly to sign.” Odette made a disparaging noise that drowned out Doc’s, pausing at the door to zip up her jacket. “I’m serious. People fall over dead every day without proper care.”

The doctor mumbled something about it never being the right people.

“It’s true,” Odette insisted, whirling. “My husband…” Her eyes glistened with tears. “He went on a business trip and never came home to me. Not alive, anyway.”

The doctor’s gaze softened, as did everyone’s in the room.

“I should have gone with him.” Odette’s words were brittle. “I calculated the risk of going with him – car accidents, muggings, lightning strikes – and I couldn’t take a chance. So, here I am.” She spread her arms. “Waiting to die.”

“My sister says that on the bad days.” Sam’s eyes filled with unshed tears.

The band chose that moment to attempt God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

Doc stood and went to take Odette’s bare hand in his gloved ones. “Well, I, for one, am glad you have a long wait.”

“Whatever documents you need her to sign…” Sam handed Daniel his briefcase and gave him a stern The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 27

stare. “If they’re in any way unfair, I’ll kick that sprained ankle of yours.”

Daniel’s eyes widened. And then he grinned. “I’m happy to say, my ankle is safe.”

*

Two signatures down.

Odette had calmed considerably upon receiving the town doctor’s sympathy, enough to stay while

Mackenzie was summoned, and the non-disclosure agreement was signed.

If not for his throbbing, swollen ankle, Daniel would have been doing an End Zone touchdown dance.

(Oh, yeah. NFL stars weren’t the only ones with moves.) Instead, he sat in a chair with his foot propped up, balancing an ice bag on his ankle and grinning from ear to ear. He was going to get out of Second

Chance before the holidays struck and more importantly before Sam snuck into his heart a second time.

“Mitch, how can I get to Phyllis’ house today?” Daniel only asked because Sam was in Mitch’s shower and couldn’t eavesdrop.

“To Flip’s? You’ll need to borrow my snowmobile and…” Mitch looked up from his laptop on the check-in desk. “I’m going to insist you use a driver. All that fresh powder. You’ll need backup.”

“Can you take me?”

A cymbal crashed on the second floor, echoing and fading, like Daniel’s hopes for closing out this business today.

Mitch winced. “I can’t go. I’ve got forty high schoolers running around with three chaperones.”

“What about Gabby?” She may have been a pre-teen, but if Mitch trusted her with someone’s credit

card, she had to have a good head on her shoulders.

The drum corps rumbled to life.

“No.” Mitch winced again. Or maybe he’d never stopped wincing. “I need her to help clean rooms.”

The worst clarinet player on the planet demonstrated the fact that they were awake and on the second

floor.

Mitch blew out a breath. “Why don’t you ask – ” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 28

“Sam?” Daniel cut that idea off at the pass the way he wanted to stuff that clarinet with a dust rag.

“No way.” There had to be someone else. “Mackenzie?”

Mitch’s head shake was slow and didn’t stop. “Look. Once those kids get moving, half of them are going to head to the diner. And when the rest get moving, they’ll head to the general store. And in between, they’ll be running up and down my stairs. No one can be spared, but Sam.”

“But…” Sam couldn’t be his only option. He’d kept her at arm’s length for nearly two days. He needed that much distance for another twenty-four hours. Learning about her sister’s accident… His heart had taken notice. It wasn’t logical for feelings he’d ignored for five years to re-awaken. She’d followed him here for a story, nothing more. Finally, his head found a defensible argument. “It’s pointless to take

Sam. I need Mackenzie to notarize her signature.”

“Well…” Mitch pulled a face. “Flip can be ornery, more so than Odette.” He sighed. “How about this? If you get Flip to agree to sign and I’ll cover Mackenzie at the store while she takes a quick trip out there to notarize.”

It was a fair compromise, but nothing inside Daniel felt settled. Sam would listen. She’d pry. And

Daniel’s firm prided itself on confidentiality.

Sam appeared in the doorway of Mitch’s apartment, looking bright and shiny and like she’d never break a trust or put Daniel in a compromising position with Harlan Monroe.

“How are you doing?” Sam asked with sweet sincerity as if she’d never turned down his marriage proposal. “Can I get you anything? Granola bar? Coffee?” She disappeared into the guest kitchenette.

“How about a ride to Flip’s?” Mitch whispered encouragingly.

The drum beat above pounded on Daniel’s temples. How badly did he want out of Second Chance?

How badly did he want to get away from Christmas and Sam in the Bahamas?

She’d said showing up at his office when Harlan did was a coincidence. She’d said he hadn’t given her time to explain. She’d said her sister was in a hellish accident before they’d met. But what did any of that matter?

It didn’t matter how well she fit under his arm when she’d helped him sit down or how often she The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 29

occupied his wandering thoughts, like a difficult Sunday crossword in the newspaper. He had to be practical and close the loop on what had happened between he and Sam so he could move on.

Daniel’s ankle throbbed. His head throbbed. His heart… His heart slowed to a dull thud.

“I’ll take a coffee,” Daniel called absently. “And… Well, Sam… I’d like to ask you…”

Sam appeared holding two paper cups filled with coffee and a question brimming in her eyes.

If you’ll marry me?

That’s the way he’d asked Sam to marry him five years ago. He’d gotten on one knee and almost

choked. He’d started out real smooth. I’d like to ask you…if you’ll marry me.

Way to go, Cross.

He swallowed back the awkwardness that threatened to render him speechless. “Will you drive me to

my last assignment in town?” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 30

Chapter Five

Sam couldn’t believe her change in luck.

She was Daniel’s chauffeur. It made it easier to get over the echo of that fateful question five years

ago. It allowed her to smile more easily, to nod while Mitch instructed her on the operation of his

snowmobile, and not to jump when Daniel sat behind her and laid his hands on her hips.

Mitch had given Sam a map to follow to reach Flip’s house, and then he’d called ahead because, “She

greets strangers with a shotgun. But don’t worry, she’s never shot anyone.” Mitch probably thought she

hadn’t heard him add, “That I know of.”

Once they reached their destination, Sam had helped Daniel up the rickety stairs to a decent size log cabin, helped him get settled in a chair in the kitchen – because Flip’s living room was filled with canvas

paintings that were stacked on furniture and on the floor. And then Sam had waited for Daniel to explain to Flip why he was here.

And waited.

Flip waited, too. She had peppery hair, frown lines, and eyes that didn’t seem to miss a thing. She served them tea, sat down, and waited only a moment before asking, “How did you two meet?”

Daniel and Sam stared at each other. Sam decided not to answer. This was Daniel’s meeting.

“We were stuck in an elevator together in my firm’s building for five hours,” Daniel admitted in what sounded like a wistful tone.

Sam sighed. She sighed over the fear of being trapped in a small box on a thin cable. She sighed over lost opportunities and poor timing. She sighed over kisses that almost never ended and the feel of strong arms around her. And then, she sighed and said, “And then we spent the next five days together.”

“Which ended when you turned down my proposal on Christmas Eve.” Daniel’s voice lost its wistfulness.

And then there was silence.

And three people huddled around a small kitchen table fiddling with their tea mugs.

Regrets welling inside Sam like high tide surrounding a low pier. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 31

“What did you two talk about in the elevator?” Flip asked casually.

“Nothing,” Sam said softly at the same time that Daniel said, “Sam admitted to a fear of heights.”

Oh, no. That wasn’t right. Sam squared her shoulders. She couldn’t let Daniel get everything wrong.

“Correction. I confessed I didn’t want to plunge thirty stories and survive.” At their surprised looks, she added, “I was terrified we’d fall. Terrified at the thought of being Humpty Dumpty, the same way I was petrified about the car accident on the pass the other night.” Sam knew she should halt the words, but they tumbled out of her the way tainted food refused to stay down. “If I was crippled, my sister would have no one. And she needed – she needs – someone. Someone strong and capable, because she’s had to undergo more surgeries than I have fingers, while doctors tried to put her back together.” And failed. “I’m her primary caregiver. The trustee of her finances. The guardian of her future and – ”

“But she didn’t lose you,” Daniel cut her off. He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, jolting

Sam back to a time when she’d taken his touch for granted, when she’d hid from the burden of responsibility and inevitable choices, if only for a few days where she could put herself first. Daniel squeezed her hand again. “She didn’t lose you, Sam.”

But I lost someone. I lost you, Daniel.

Sam swallowed the words back, along with the emotion threatening to clog her throat. “You think I orchestrated everything, Daniel, but the reason I was in that elevator that day was because I’d been to a lawyer a few floors above you to finalize the paperwork for Amy’s affairs. I never told you, because I wasn’t all cried out yet.” Maybe she never would be. “I wasn’t prepared to tell the world – or you – that I was putting my life in the back seat. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I never felt like I fit into the world of high stakes business in the first place. Maybe it’s because I felt I was giving up on my dreams.”

Her parents had counseled her against becoming Amy’s advocate and caregiver. They wanted to care for Amy. But their idea of care was to give up hope of a future and leave Amy in a home permanently.

“But after our rescue…” Daniel frowned, and yet it wasn’t an expression of annoyance. It was the gentle frown of a lawyer trying to understand the evidence before him. “We spent all our time together.”

“But we didn’t talk much,” she reminded him, cheeks heating. “I was so grateful to be alive when we The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 32

got out of that elevator, but I was also consumed with guilt. My parents were upset that Amy chose me to take care of her legal affairs. I was overwhelmed with everything I had to do, with everything a small town reporter’s salary didn’t cover. And I just… I needed a few days away.” And instead, she’d fallen in love, complicating the move to New York, the quest to find a new job, the need to get in the back seat.

“So. I was nothing more than a distraction.” His hand left hers.

Feeling hollow, Sam stared at the simple brown coffee mug in front of her. She should let Daniel think what he would. Except that hadn’t helped her to stop thinking about him, to stop longing for him, to stop loving him.

Daniel turned away from her and faced Flip.

Sam could feel her chance slipping through her fingers. This time for good.

“No.” She touched Daniel’s shoulder. “You were my rock. You made me feel again. You reminded me that love doesn’t come with obligations and compromises. That it can be freely given and received without being a burden.”

“Love…” he huffed, staring at Flip’s cache of paintings.

Flip shifted in her seat. “Sometimes it’s easier to stick to the facts than to – ”

“You think I didn’t love you?” The words were wrung out of Sam. “You think what we had wasn’t real?”

Daniel jerked around in his seat. “You said no!”

“And you walked out the door before I could explain.”

He stilled.

“I had to take care of my sister financially. I had to care for her physically. I had to choose a job over you. New York over Philadelphia.” Spinsterhood over married life. “When Harlan showed up in your office.” In a wheelchair, on oxygen, looking less like one of the most powerful men in the nation and more like her grandfather. “I knew if I landed an interview with him that I could get a job in New York at

For the Times, the New York Times, or the New Yorker. Jobs that paid a living wage. Jobs that gave Amy a second chance at life.” But took away Sam’s chance at love. Forever. “I asked him for an interview. He The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 33

accepted. And that night, you asked me to marry you. And…”

Neither one of them spoke. Maybe because they both knew that if Sam had to do it all over again, she wouldn’t change a thing.

Flip cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you were here to talk about me signing something.”

“I’ll wait outside.” Sam would rather brave Mother Nature’s cold than Daniel’s cold shoulder. She shouldn’t have come, not just to Flip’s cabin, but to Second Chance.

Second Chance.

It was beautiful. Snow blanketed the ground, the pines, the mountains in the distance. Snow sparkled beneath the blue sky. She could understand why Harlan had a connection here.

Harlan Monroe.

People always said he never did anything without a vision for the future.

Regrets. Risks. Facts. Believe…

For a moment, Sam filled her lungs with cold mountain air and felt the energy that accompanied a whiff of a story.

But no. Her exhale was visible in the air before dissipating in the thin mountain air.

It was just a coincidence that she’d heard residents echo Harlan’s Christmas card sentiments.

Her cell phone rang.

“Good news,” Mitch said. “The rental agency dropped off a replacement car for you.”

“Great.” Come morning, Sam could leave.

Without a story. Without a bonus.

And without Daniel.

*

Daniel waited at the bottom of the Lodgepole Inn’s stairs while Sam returned Mitch’s snowmobile to

the garage.

The inn was quiet. The band was gone. The Christmas tree lights twinkled brighter than the afternoon The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 34

sunlight, making the colorful bulbs glow. Daniel didn’t have to force himself to look, didn’t feel like turning away.

Sam hadn’t tried to pry about his need for Flip’s signature. She’d walked slow and let him lean on her

– more so than she had five years ago. She’d been dealing with the repercussions of her sister’s accident and how that impacted what happened next in her life. The elevator incident. Him. She hadn’t planned on any of it. Not even her chance meeting with Harlan.

His heart… It won over his head. She may have showed up looking for a story this time, but she

wasn’t making a concentrated effort to find one.

Coming through the door, Sam spotted Daniel and hurried forward. “Do you need help getting up the

stairs?”

“No.” It was just a sprain. Granted, it was the size of a softball and ached after his trip to Flip’s, but

why did everyone make such a big deal out of it? “I thought we could have lunch together. My treat.” He

had things he needed to get off his chest.

She settled her backpack more firmly on her shoulder, fingered the hole in her jeans and wouldn’t

meet his gaze. “Sure.” She took his arm and helped him through the door, past the cheerful wreath.

“Mr. Cross!” Gabby ran out on the porch. “You received a package today.” She handed him a thick

envelope.

Noting his firm’s return address, Daniel tucked it under his arm. He waited to say more to Sam until

they were settled in a booth at the Bent Nickel Diner.

“I owe you an apology,” he said simply.

She shook her head. “No. It’s me who should be asking for forgiveness. I held part of myself back –

Amy.”

“Don’t.” He drew a deep breath. “We knew each other five days. Of course, there’d be things left

unsaid. And yet… When you said no all those years ago, I was…stupidly relieved. Because I was up for a

partnership and all my carefully planned, logical career moves… I hadn’t counted on falling in love. And

I’d never been that impulsive before. How could I trust what I was feeling?” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 35

Sam fell back against the booth and tried to hide her misty eyes. He bet beneath the table she had one finger in that hole in her jeans. She was nervous.

And so was he. “But Sam, I couldn’t get you out of my heart, much as I tried formulating really good arguments to do so.”

Sam’s soft blue eyes rose to his face. Her cheeks bloomed with color. There was still love in her heart for him. He was certain of it.

Daniel drew a breath, forced out words, continued to gamble his feelings. “It’s funny. Harlan always talks about looking back with gratitude, not regret. But I could never remember those days without feeling both.”

“Grateful,” she murmured, gaze drifting around the diner. “Regrets.”

“Harlan is also fond of saying when we have regrets, we should do something about them.” Daniel swallowed thickly, thinking how much he was going to miss the old man. He extended his hand across the table toward Sam. “He says we should reach out and say, ‘Can you give me a second chance?’”

Sam hesitated, and then placed her hand in his. “Wow.”

Their hands fit, the same way they had five years ago.

She shivered and sat up taller. “Do you know… I think Harlan wants us to be together.”

Why was she bringing up his client when Daniel was swallowing his pride and asking if they could start over? “You think Harlan planned this?” Daniel gestured from him to her. “Us? Here? Together?”

She nodded. “Harlan sent me cards every Christmas.” Releasing him, Sam dug through her backpack.

She spread the holiday cards on the table and opened one. “Look at this. It says…wonderful year, blah- blah-blah, and… Here it is! Don’t harbor any regrets.” She opened another one. “Now this card…” She scanned the spindly writing. “Don’t forget to take calculated risks.” She stared into Daniel’s eyes. “You heard Odette. She said she didn’t take a calculated risk. Her husband went off on a business trip without her and died alone.”

This was sounding far-fetched at a time when he wanted to talk about reality. Theirs. “I’d like to remind you, Sam, that you write respected business articles based on facts, not fiction.” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 36

“Exactly.” Sam opened another card and pointed. “It’s right here. Stick to the facts. That’s exactly what Flip said to us when we were talking about our past.”

“Sam – ”

“And look at this one. From this year.” She spoke quickly. “It says right here to believe in Second

Chances. And he capitalized Second Chances.” She waved the card in front of Daniel’s face. “Come on.

Don’t you see how this fits? Harlan plans out everything.”

Daniel wasn’t buying it. “Harlan Monroe may be brilliant, and wealthy because of it, but he’s just a man. He’s not a matchmaker.” But somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice said, “But what about his plans for his grandchildren in his will?”

Not that Harlan had matchmaking plans for his twelve grandchildren. But he had planned out what he wanted to happen in the year after his death.

“Daniel, did Harlan choose you to come here? Over the many lawyers who work at your firm and bill out at less per hour?” Sam had a point and she knew it. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to fit all the pieces together.

“Okay, yes. I think he requested I complete the paperwork here. But that’s not unusual.” Daniel didn’t want to talk about Harlan Monroe. Didn’t want to admit it took a millionaire to make him try again with

Sam. “Harlan is particular about everything his legal team does for him.”

Sam smirked. “Aren’t you going to open your package? It might be something important given its return address.” She nodded toward the envelope on his side of the table.

Daniel hesitated. It could be confidential, and he was sitting across from a reporter. But he wanted to show Sam he trusted her. He ripped open the seal and scanned the contents – a thick sheaf of papers, a contract. And then he dropped it on the table where she could see. If she wanted. If she cared more about a story and a big payoff than she did about Daniel. “Do you know what this is?”

“I don’t care about Harlan’s business or his will anymore, Daniel. Whatever game is being played…

He shouldn’t have meddled with our hearts. I could have finished a different article the magazine would have paid me for and you… You’ve been doing fine without me and – ” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 37

“It’s a contract, Sam.” That wily old fox. “An offer. For you. To write Harlan Monroe’s biography to

be published exactly one year after his death.”

Sam’s mouth closed.

“And there’s a handwritten note.” Daniel leaned over the pages to read out loud what he’d already read to himself. “Sometimes you get between a rock and a hard place, and you choose the responsible path. Just wanted you to have the option to choose love this time, Samantha, because I believe in Second

Chances.”

Sam began to cry. “I told you he was meddling.”

Daniel slid out of the booth and made his way to her side, wrapping her in his arms. “What does it

matter if he did?”

“Because that would mean I should have fought harder for you five years ago. That would mean

Harlan saw we loved each other in the office that day and every day since. He saw it and we didn’t. We

closed the door and tried to move on and…” Her voice dropped to a tiny squeak as she swiped at her

tears. “…and we pretended we were okay inside. When…”

“Shh.” He smoothed her hair. “We’ll make it right. We’ll get married and invite Harlan. There’s

nothing that old man likes more than being right.”

She reached for a napkin and blew her nose.

“You do want to marry me, don’t you?” he asked, suddenly unsure.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Yes. I love you, Daniel. I love you. Promise me we’ll talk

things out. Always. We’ll talk things through as if we’re stuck on that elevator again.”

“Agreed, love.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Our first order of business is to discuss this book

deal…”

The End

Turn the page to read the series overview for the Mountain Monroes and an excerpt from Book 1, Kissed

by the Country Doc. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 38

The Mountain Monroes

Second Chance Romance Series Overview

They inherited a town!

Harlan Monroe was a self-made man with a large family and an agenda – making sure his twelve grandchildren are happy after he’s gone. But he knows money can’t buy you happiness. So he’s left them the place he was happiest – Second Chance, Idaho.

This is their second chance at love!

What did Second Chance mean to Harlan? Why did he leave it to his grandchildren? His adult heirs are going to find out, whether Second Chance residents want them to or not. And while they’re at it, they’ll get a second chance at love!

The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 39

Kissed by the Country Doc

Chapter One

SNOW DRAPED THE Sawtooth mountain range, carpeted the Colter Valley and frosted the Salmon

River like a blue-tinged Christmas card.

And more snow was coming.

Second Chance residents, like Dr. Noah Bishop, knew it. This was the calm before the next storm. It was there in the biting, building wind at dawn, and at midday, when the sky was heavy with gray clouds that descended below the mountaintops.

Trudging through the drifts from his home office to the Bent Nickel diner, the taste of snow punched the air and clung to Noah’s lungs like icicles to a metal roof. This time last year, he’d been operating on the shoulder of a football league’s MVP. His one patient today had complained of an ingrown toenail.

Oh, how the mighty has tumbled from his pedestal.

Noah’s inner voice hadn’t adjusted to life in the mountains as a country doctor.

He slogged his way around the side of the inn to the cleared sidewalk. Farther down, the parking stalls in front of the grocery store and gas station were empty. The old, white steepled church, the boxy schoolhouse, the brick mercantile and log-cabin fur-trading post stood above the road, windows dark and empty. The buildings and a dozen or so smaller cabins made up the heart of the roadside town located where two narrow highways met in the Idaho high country. The rest of the residents were spread out around the bends of the Salmon River.

A snowplow rumbled by from the south and turned at the fork to the west, a last-ditch effort by the state to keep the roads open as long as possible.

Heads whipped around when Noah entered the Bent Nickel, all faces of citizens of Second Chance who hadn’t gone south for the winter. Town residents were jumpy. There was more than a storm coming.

The Monroes were coming.

Folks had seen the announcements in the media about Harlan Monroe’s death. He’d owned the town, The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 40

lock, stock and barrel. According to those in the know, it was only a matter of time before some of his heirs showed up. The locals had made a pool as to what was going to go down.

The Clark sisters from the Bucking Bull Ranch sunk twenty dollars on the Monroes sending a real- estate agent to evaluate the place. Mitch Kincaid, mayor and innkeeper, put in ten dollars toward at least two Monroes showing up expecting a five-star hotel. Eli Garland, the homeschooling coordinator for the county, put his money on the Monroes not showing up until summer. Mackenzie and Ivy, who ran the grocery and diner respectively, plunked ten apiece on the Monroes arriving in a stretch limo. Their bet inspired Roy Stout, the town handyman, to wager they’d pull up in a Hummer, because how else was anyone supposed to get up to Second Chance in January without four-wheel drive?

Noah was among the residents who hadn’t bet. Luck hadn’t been kind to him lately.

“I’m making French fries and milk shakes for the kids,” Ivy called to Noah from the diner’s kitchen.

She pampered the town’s handful of children and encouraged Eli to hold home-study sessions in the diner. “Can I get you anything, Doc?”

“No, thanks.” Ivy served food that could only be classified as fuel. Unlike the fancy meals Noah had enjoyed in New York, there were no culinary delights to be had on any of her plates. But the coffee was strong and cheap, and the price of hanging out for a few hours was a mere armload of firewood for the fireplace, which meant it was the warmest building in Second Chance.

Noah set his logs on the woodpile and then began to shed layers—parka, knit cap, muffler. The black leather gloves he kept on, a fact several children noticed. He had no idea why the kids were still here. If he’d known they’d be lingering, he would’ve stayed in his cabin. He shoved a couple dollars in the coffee jar and poured himself a cup.

Mitch pulled out a chair at his table for Noah. They’d met at DePaul University when Mitch was prelaw and Noah was premed. They’d kept in touch on social media and through a fantasy football league. Mitch had hired Noah after his accident.

“I was just saying we need to be united when the Monroes get here,” Mitch said. “I know I don’t have to remind anyone about our nondisclosure agreement with Harlan.” The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 41

Noah nodded, because Mitch was looking at him. He’d signed a nondisclosure agreement about the old man, but he’d only been here six months and had never met Harlan Monroe in person. He couldn’t have picked his benefactor out of a police lineup. Unlike other residents who’d sold their property to the millionaire and might have been privy to something important about the old man, Noah had no secrets to divulge.

“Moving forward,” Mitch went on, “it’ll help if we negotiate as one entity. Ideally, we keep our low leases. Worst case, we buy back our places for less than we sold them to Harlan. In either case, don’t make this easy on them. We don’t want Harlan’s heirs thinking this is the next Idaho town to be developed for Hollywood vacation homes.”

There were worried head nods of approval and agreement. Nobody wanted Second Chance real estate to skyrocket or for it to become a soulless haven for celebrities.

Noah didn’t nod. He sat. Unlike the other residents, the small home Noah lived in was rent free. It

was a stipulation of his contract as the town doctor. Granted, it wasn’t where he thought he’d be, but if he

couldn’t be an orthopedic surgeon to sports superstars, it was better to be a nobody from nowhere.

Aptly put, his snarky inner voice whispered.

“You ready for a blizzard, Doc?” Roy sat at the next table over, facing the highway. He wore stained

blue coveralls over a pair of yellowed long johns. His wiry, knubby elbows rested on the white Formica

tabletop. A fringe of peppery hair was visible beneath his blue ball cap.

Noah shrugged. “Will it really be any worse than the storms we’ve already had?”

“Yep.” Roy chuckled, revealing his gap-toothed smile. “More snow. More wind. More freezing

temperatures.”

More boredom.

Noah squashed that thought. He wasn’t here for the intellectual challenge or the thrill of new,

emergency limb-saving techniques. He wasn’t here for experimental procedures or medical accolades. He

wasn’t even here for a research sabbatical. He’d accepted Mitch’s invitation to become the town doctor

because he could no longer be the surgeon who could perform miracles. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 42

“Storm after storm after storm,” Roy murmured happily. “I love winter.”

Up here, winter lasted six months or more.

Mitch straightened, running a hand through his dark hair. “There’s a car pulling in.”

Mackenzie, who owned the grocery store and garage, moved to the front window along with Roy.

“Maybe they’re just passing through and need a bathroom.”

“Or something to eat.” Ivy was craning her neck, trying to see over the cook’s counter.

“That’s no car.” Roy slapped his skinny thigh. “It’s one of those Humdingers!”

A long black Hummer parked in front of the diner.

“It’s them Monroes.” Heedless of his audience on the other side of the window, Roy pointed and raised his voice. “I knew it. I just knew it.”

“We don’t know anything yet,” Mitch said in a put-out voice.

A man in his thirties opened the diner’s door for the carload. He had wavy brown hair in a neatly

styled haircut and was inappropriately dressed for the mountains—slacks, leather loafers, a light winter

jacket. No cap. No gloves.

A case of frostbite in the making.

Noah hid a smile behind a sip of his coffee.

A woman hurried inside. Bright red hair. Pale complexion. Black leather jacket over a black tunic

sweater, black leggings and black boots. Something about her seemed familiar. She spotted the restroom

sign and hurried toward it.

Carsick.

Whether they were the Monroes or not, they were providing Noah with some much-needed entertainment.

Another woman scurried in. She had wavy brown hair, pointy features and frazzled brown eyes shaded by dark circles that her glasses did nothing to conceal. She held the hands of two twin toddler boys, who clumped in wearing matching dark green unzipped jackets and white sneakers that flashed bright red beams from the heels as they walked. She followed the first woman to the restrooms. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 43

Single mom in need of a good night’s sleep and proper hydration.

A third woman entered, stepping to the side so the man could close the door behind her. Her hair was blond, her eyes a bright blue. She had a sprinkling of freckles and the kind of glowing skin that never tanned. She was the only sensibly dressed one of the lot in a navy stadium jacket, snow boots and a knit cap. The toddler she carried had the same coloring and wore a pink snowsuit.

She set down the little girl and proceeded to shed layers—hers and the toddler’s—plopping their gear and a diaper bag in a booth. She wiped the toddler’s runny nose with a crumpled tissue, straightened and took a good look around, while Noah took a good look at her. She didn’t seem like a millionaire. She seemed like the kindhearted girl next door. The one who blushed when you asked her to help you with your English homework, and was happy for you when you told her you’d asked the cheerleading captain to prom.

Not that I was that guy.

She made him feel guilty all the same.

“I’m looking for Mitch Kincaid.” The man took up a wide stance. Hands on hips. An expectation of respect in his dark eyes. “I’m Shane Monroe.”

Something crashed in the kitchen.

“Well, I’ll be.” Roy grabbed Shane’s hand and shook it like he was pumping water from a well.

“Good to meet you.”

“Mitch?” Who knew what Shane had been expecting, but it wasn’t the town handyman and his gap- toothed grin.

“Nope. I’m Roy.” The old man kept pumping. “Harlan was my—”

“I’m Mitch.” The mayor got out of his chair and introduced himself, shaking Shane’s hand in a classy one-and-done.

Something crashed into Noah’s thigh.

The toddler wiped her nose on Noah’s black ski pants and then looked up at him with a mischievous

grin and said, “Hi,” before fleeing with a squeal and a giggle across the diner. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 44

“Penny.” The girl next door snatched a napkin from the holder on the table and wiped at the streak of snot on Noah’s ski pants. And then she froze, her hands inches from Noah’s thigh.

Noah’s ears filled with white noise, not caused by any head cold or sinus infection. This was one of those surreal moments where a beauty had unwittingly touched a beast. Noah’s heart went out of rhythm.

He felt light-headed.

Heart attack? Negative.

Low blood sugar? Negative.

High-altitude dehydration? Likely.

Despite his diagnosis, Noah reached for his dehydrating coffee. But his eyes... His eyes couldn’t turn away from her.

“My apologies. That was inappropriate.” The woman’s cheeks bloomed with color. Her bright blue gaze bounced to Noah’s and away before she, too, made a run for it. “Penelope Arlene, you come back here.”

Penny’s laughter drowned out the white noise in Noah’s head, and sent others in the room chuckling, breaking the tension that the arrival of the Monroes had caused. Noah breathed easier.

“We thought we’d come down and stay a few days,” Shane Monroe was saying, still on his high horse.

Not that Noah was one to judge. As an orthopedic surgeon, he’d taken many a ride on a high horse.

And look where that’s gotten me.

Noah clenched his gloved fists, his left hand more than his right.

The pale redhead emerged from the bathroom and collapsed on a stool at the counter with a croak for water.

Ivy was quick to serve her, looking slightly out of her element. “Are you Ashley?”

Ashley Monroe? The actress? Was that why she looked familiar?

“She’s my twin.”

“Oh.” Ivy sounded disappointed, but not as disappointed as the redhead. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 45

“You wanna stay here? Now?” That was Roy. Unfiltered. “In Second Chance?”

Mitch tried to hide a laugh behind a cough. “What Roy means is, there’s a storm coming. Many storms, in fact. We usually get snowed in five to ten days during the winter. Passes close. No getting in or out.” He gave Shane the kind of look a New York doorman gives a tenant while explaining it’s impossible to get a taxi on New Year’s Eve. “You might be better off heading down to Hailey, or the other way, to Boise.”

“Better off?” Shane’s dark eyes narrowed. “Is there something you don’t want us to see?”

“Three to five feet of snow,” Roy answered, smacking his gums. “It’s a-comin’ tonight. Six or more a day after. And so on.”

Penny was playing keep-away-from-mama, running on chubby legs between tables in the middle of the room. Not that the girl next door was trying hard to catch her. More likely, she was trying to keep

Penny from wiping her nose on another unsuspecting Second Chance resident.

“All we’re saying is—” Mitch was a former lawyer and proficient at clarifying an issue “— you might be more comfortable in a place with accommodations you’re used to because the passes might close.”

Shane was just as tall as Mitch but managed to look down his nose at him. “You have beds?” At his nod, Shane added, “Then we’ll be fine.”

So much for the five-star expectations of Mitch’s bet.

“You like snow, do you?” Roy asked.

“We’ll be fine,” Shane repeated.

Based on the thinness of Shane’s coat and his fine leather loafers, Noah highly doubted he’d be fine.

You could get away with thin jackets in cities like Chicago or New York, because you were only in the elements for a few blocks between the subway and whatever building you were darting into. In the mountains of Idaho, cold penetrated layers of clothing quicker than heat melted ice cream on a hot summer day.

The toddler boys raced into the dining room and joined Penny. The three of them ran around a table The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 46

as if they were playing musical chairs or training to be track stars.

“Someone.” Shane waved toward the spectacle. “Please.”

The girl next door and the harried mom of twins moved in.

Sensing her freedom was about to end, Penny veered and crashed into Noah, giggling nonstop. She

gave a wet snuffle and turned her face to Noah’s knee.

This time, Noah was ready for her and swiped her nose with a napkin. “Gotcha.”

She looked up at him, aghast, lower lip trembling.

“Come here, Penny.” The girl next door crouched in front of Noah and held out her hands, just far

enough away that she couldn’t touch him again.

“No-o-o.” Penny wasn’t just an athlete in the making. She was also a bit of a drama queen. She clutched Noah’s calf and shook her blond curls. “No-o-o.”

Penny’s mom raised those blue eyes to Noah’s once more, causing a heart-stuttering, equilibrium- shaking, white-noise-in-the-ears relapse.

“Given the way my daughter clings to you, we should be on a first-name basis. I’m Ella.” Her glance caught on Noah’s black gloves.

And just like that, Noah was reminded why he didn’t want a woman’s interest.

The world self-corrected. Stabilized.

“Mom.” Penny made a raspberry noise against Noah’s knee, negating her mother having any name other than... “Mom. Mom. Mom.”

“I’m Noah.” He ruffled Penny’s blond curls with his left hand. “Your daughter is what? Two?”

“I two,” Penny confirmed, holding up four fingers.

The twins ran by, followed by their mother, who said, “No one told me the terrible twos lasted long after the age of four.” She snatched a boy in each arm and gave them a playful growl as she stood, glasses sliding down her thin nose. “Only boys who behave get French fries.”

The boys stopped struggling and allowed their mother to carry them to the lunch counter, where she

deposited each on a stool and ordered French fries from Ivy. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 47

“Fesh fies?” Penny toddled forward into Ella’s arms.

“Apple fries?” Ella countered, then whispered conspiratorially to Noah, “So much healthier, and in my bag.”

His mother would have said, “She’s as adorable as her daughter.”

I’ve never liked adorable.

His sister would have said, “She’s not wearing a wedding ring.”

A fact I noticed completely by accident.

“Fesh fies!” Penny cried, pointing at the boys.

“But apple fries just aren’t the same,” Noah murmured. He caught Ella’s eye. “You should head back down the mountain before the storm hits. At Penny’s age, a case of the sniffles can turn serious overnight.” There. Spoken like a country doctor who only had a little girl’s best interests at heart.

Mitch gave Noah an approving nod, the kind of gesture that said, You’re one of us.

Noah clenched his teeth.

I have nothing in common with these people.

Worry flashed in Ella’s eyes. She’d no doubt weathered illnesses with her daughter before. Little kids

picked up every germ.

“It’s just a cold.” Shane made light of Noah’s concern.

Ella’s gaze shuttered. She gave Noah a small smile. “Thanks, but it looks like we’re staying.”

“That’s too bad,” Noah murmured, staring at his gloved right hand and wishing Ella Monroe would

leave town quickly.

A woman like Ella made a man remember he’d once had lofty dreams, made him think he could still

be somebody important, made him try to regain ground when the odds were embarrassingly, impossibly

stacked against him.

Well, what do you know. His inner cynic chuckled.

Turns out, Noah did have something in common with the other residents of Second Chance.

He wanted the Monroes gone. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 48

To read more about Noah and Ella’s romance, get your copy of Kissed by the Country Doc here:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2wWmecU BN: http://bit.ly/2wXrWMl iBooks: https://apple.co/2MdlKEO Kobo: http://bit.ly/2oQTazA Google: http://bit.ly/2wXhLqc Harlequin: http://bit.ly/2p09iiF

The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 49

Thank you!

Thank you for reading the prequel for The Mountain Monroes. There are 12 books planned in the series with three releasing every year beginning 2019 from Harlequin Heartwarming.

Would you like to know when my next book is coming out? Follow me on Twitter at

@MelCurtisAuthor, or like my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/MelindaCurtisAuthor. If you

sign up for my book release email list at www.MelindaCurtis.com you’ll receive a free read.

Reviews help readers find books. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.

What other authors are saying about Melinda Curtis:

Brenda Novak says of Season of Change: “Reading Slade and Christine’s story reminded me of why I enjoy romance. SEASON OF CHANGE has found a place on my keeper shelf!”

Jayne Anne Krentz says of Blue Rules: “Sharp, sassy, modern version of a screwball comedy from

Hollywood’s Golden Age except a lot hotter.”

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Cari Lynn Webb for helping bring the Monroes to life. Every writer needs a good critique

partner. Thanks also to Mr. Curtis for buying wireless headphones so he can watch TV without disturbing

me and for bringing me Panda Express when I need carbs. Writers need a lot of carbs! Thanks to Kathryn

Lye for having faith in Harlan Monroe and his loving plans for his heirs.

Bio

Prior to writing romance, award-winning, USA Today bestseller Melinda Curtis was a junior manager

for a Fortune 500 company, which meant when she flew on the private jet she was relegated to the jump

seat—otherwise known as the potty. After grabbing her pen (and a parachute) she made the jump to full-

time writer. Between writing sweet romance for Harlequin and indie-pubbed sweet romantic comedy, The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 50

Melinda finds time to bond with her husband over home remodeling projects. She recently came to grips with the fact that she’s an empty nester and a grandma, concepts easier to grasp than jet-setting on a potty.