Excerpt One from The House on the Beach by Linda Barrett

Bartholomew Quinn stood at the large front window of his Main Street office in Pilgrim Cove, his hand cupping the bowl of the empty pipe in his mouth. A comfortable habit he hadn't bothered to break even though he'd given up the pleasure of filling the beauty with fine tobacco.

Promises. He'd made promises. A promise to his daughters and to his beloved granddaughter and to her precious daughter. Four generations of Quinns, three of whom had said, "No more smoking, Dad, Granddad, Papa Bart!" He shook his head remembering how they'd ganged up on him. Foolish girls to worry so much. He was as strong as ever and as sharp as ever, and maybe just as hard-headed, too. He sighed. Except these days he chomped an empty pipe.

His eyes focused on the late model blue Honda Accord pulling into a visitor's spot in front of his building, then he glanced at his watch. If this was Laura McCloud, she was right on time. He'd been astonished to hear from her last week. Astonished that she remembered him. But then again, he grinned to himself, he was a pretty memorable guy. Just ask his kids. Or anyone in Pilgrim Cove. Everyone knew Bartholomew Quinn! 

The car door opened and a woman emerged, golden hair tossing in the wind. Bart asked. She should have worn a hat. Wasn't she aware that February was the worst of the winter months in New England? He straightened his silk bow tie and adjusted the comfortable woolen cardigan he wore. Bart Quinn knew how to adapt to weather and to life. After seventy-five years on the planet, he'd had plenty of practice. 

He watched the young woman check the sign--Quinn Real Estate and Property Management--and walk to the front door. He went to greet her.

"Well, as I live and breathe," he said, shaking Laura's hand. "The young McCloud girl. All grown up."

She had a delightful laugh, but it didn't quite hide the sadness in her dark blue eyes. Strain showed in the too-thin face. 

"Come in and have a hot cup of Earl Grey." He ushered her to a small round table. After calling to an assistant for the tea, he took a seat opposite Laura. 

"You've had a hard time of it, haven't you?" Bart began. "A fine woman was Bridget McCloud, and your dad, too. I remember Connor well. Two good people, and now their daughter's come to see me." He sat back in his chair and waited.

Laura nodded. "Yes, I've come to you, Mr. Quinn, with a request." She moved her chair a fraction closer. "My question is, can you help me find a house to rent immediately? A house right on the beach. I want to be able to open my eyes and see the ocean."

Her voice had the clarity of a bell. A musical quality, Bart thought. She was so lovely despite her distress. He cocked his head as he listened.

"You see," Laura continued, "I need to get away for awhile. I need to be here, near the water. Can't wait for summer. I need to... to..."

"Lick your wounds? Heal a little?" suggested Bart.

Her eyes widened. "That's part of it. Mom's illness...she was in remission for so long, and then three years ago, the nightmare began again. Her nerve cells deteriorated. In the end, she couldn't walk, couldn't talk... I need some time to recover and to adjust." She paused in thought. "Long walks on the beach, fresh air, time to read, and to cook simple meals. And with some basic recording equipment, I can work here as well as in Boston."

"And what exactly does Laura McCloud do to earn her keep?"

A dimple appeared as she shot him a small grin. "Laura McCloud earns her keep on the radio and telly with her commercial announcements."

Her language and Irish lilt matched his, and he roared with laughter. "Oh, you've got it down, girl." Bart was pure American, but his parents had emigrated from County Cork at the turn of the last century and a bit of their flavorful speech had taken hold in him. 

She nodded. "I've always been good at languages. I seem to have the ear and the voice. In college, I majored in Speech and Theater and found my work in narration and voice-overs. But," she turned away from him then and stared through the window, "my career has fallen apart in the last few years. I've been...distracted. And now I've got to rebuild." 

Her eyes glowed as she turned to him again, and Bart saw the strength behind them. This girl would make it somehow, with or without his help. But he wanted very much to help her. He thought about a property he managed--a unique beach front property--with a sliding scale rental fee for people in difficult circumstances. His gut told him Laura qualified, and his gut was rarely wrong. He nodded his head. "Sea View House."

"Excuse me?"

"You'll be wanting Sea View House."

Excerpt Two from The House on the Beach by Linda Barrett

She exhaled and relaxed, until she heard the Chief say, "Here's a man who'll have an opinion. Morning, Matthew."

Laura swiveled in her seat, and sure enough Matt Parker was walking toward their table, all six feet of him, broad shoulders outlined by the fabric of his jersey, long legs encased in snug jeans and his eyes fixed only on her. 

"Morning, all," said Matt. "My opinion about what?" he asked as he joined the group, but remained standing.

"How do you think Laura looks now that she's been in Pilgrim Cove almost a month?" It was the Chief's voice, and from the corner of her eye, Laura saw the retired cop elbow Lou who was seated next to him.

"How does she look?" Matt repeated the question, as he continued to stare at her. "She looks good. Too damn good!"

Pinned to her seat by the force of his gaze, Laura couldn't breathe, her heart almost leaped from of her chest. She focused on Matt, oblivious to everyone else at their table. Oblivious to the whole diner. 

When he jerked his head toward the door, she rose without saying a word and followed him outside. He led her toward the rear of the building, away from the busy main entrance, then stopped and faced her. Her back was to the diner; she saw only Matt and gasped at the intensity of his expression.

"You're driving me crazy," he said. It should have been a compliment, but he didn't sound happy. His hoarse voice revealed strong emotions held in check.

"What...?"

He placed his forefinger gently over her mouth and silenced her. "I think about you all the time." The words came out one by one, reluctantly, but in a softer tone.

Interesting, but still confusing. "All the time?" she asked, standing very still.

"And I'm not used to being distracted like that. It's not a way for a man to live!" He paced in front of her now. "You may not know this, Laura, but after Valerie died, I decided not to allow myself to become involved with a woman."

She hadn't known, but now understood his mixed signals a little better.

"But you," he whispered, coming to a halt, "you're different." His hand quivered as he raised it to stroke her cheek. "You're kind. Intelligent. Brave. Honest. And you're always on my mind. Damn it!"

Should she laugh or cry? She waited. 

"And the other night, when I kissed you..."

She remembered all too well. "On the forehead," she reminded him. 

He winced. "I wanted to do this." He tilted her face toward him and captured her lips, covering her mouth with a hunger that belied any doubts. 

Instantly, her arms locked around his neck, and she answered him with a hunger of her own. Like nothing she'd ever felt before. Like nothing she'd ever imagined. As though from a distance, she heard Matt whisper her name. 

"Yes, I'm here." She returned his kisses until she had no oxygen left at all.

And then suddenly, she could breathe again. She glanced up. Matt was staring straight ahead, over her shoulder, a look of horror on his face.

"You won't believe this," he said. 

She felt herself being turned around by Matt's strong hands. And through the rear windows of the diner saw five grown men on their feet looking back at her, arms raised in victory, cheering.

Heat traveled from her toes to her forehead in three seconds. She felt the burn in her cheeks. "The price you pay for living in a small town." 

Matt grinned, eyes sparkling and warm. "They're going to call my dad in no time flat. Let's give them a real story to tell." He reached for her again.