Chapter 1
One
Delaney
Four months later
The twinkle lights are fighting me today.
I blow a wayward coil of honey-brown hair out of my face and stretch on my tiptoes, trying to wind the stubborn string of lights around the top shelf of my romance display. One end keeps slipping, sending the whole strand cascading down like a very uncooperative waterfall of tiny bulbs.
"Come on," I mutter, making another grab for the lights. "Work with me here."
November first in Millbrook Falls means Halloween is over and Christmas prep is already in full swing, and I've been decorating Rosewood Books since dawn.
The familiar scent of old paper and vanilla candles mingles with the crisp autumn air drifting through the propped-open door.
Outside, maple leaves spiral down onto Main Street like confetti, and I can hear Mabel Owens next door setting up her holiday window display at the antique shop.
This is my favorite time of year. The whole town transforms into something magical, like we're all living inside a snow globe. Not that we have snow yet, but give it a few weeks. The tourists love it when we get that picture-perfect New England winter wonderland thing going.
Well, they used to love it.
I finally wrestle the lights into submission and step back to admire my handiwork.
The romance section glows like something out of a fairy tale, which is exactly the vibe I'm going for.
Red and gold twinkle lights frame shelves packed with happily-ever-afters.
A small Christmas tree sits in the corner, decorated with book-themed ornaments Gran collected over the years.
Tiny wreaths hang from the ends of each bookshelf, and I've arranged holiday romance novels in tempting displays throughout the store.
It's perfect. It's magical. It's exactly the kind of place that should be hosting a book signing in two days for the Boston Howlers star forward, Mac Sullivan.
I still can't believe he and his publicist chose us.
The bell above the door chimes and my best friend, Maya, breezes in carrying two steaming coffee cups from The Daily Grind.
Her sleek black bob doesn't have a hair out of place despite the November wind, and her burgundy wool coat probably costs more than I make in a month.
Sometimes I forget she left us to work as a sports publicist in Boston before she moved back here and became my business partner.
"Please tell me one of those is for me," I say, abandoning my lights to meet her halfway.
"Peppermint mocha, extra whip, because you're basically a Christmas elf in human form." Maya hands over the cup and surveys my decorating efforts with an amused smile. "Very festive. Very you. Are you sure all this Christmas cheer won't scare off the hockey player?"
I take a grateful sip of coffee and feel the caffeine hit my bloodstream. "Mac is going to love it. How could he not? Look at this place."
Maya raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Del, honey. It's a hockey player's autobiography. The man probably bleeds testosterone and protein powder. I'm not sure romance novel wonderland is his natural habitat."
"That's exactly why this is perfect." I gesture around the store with my free hand. "Think about the contrast. Tough hockey player, soft bookshop. It's like something out of a book itself. It's sure to get people talking."
"A book you would write," Maya says dryly, but her tone still holds some fondness.
I ignore her skepticism and climb up the ladder to adjust a strand of lights that's drooping above the non-fiction section. "This signing is going to change everything, Maya. I can feel it."
She lifts a brow. "Change everything, how?"
"Millbrook Falls used to be the Romance Capital of New England," I remind her, even though she's heard this speech a dozen times.
She's even lived through it. But the grim look on her face confirms she knows she can't stop me once I get all revved up like this.
My hands wave around maniacally as I speak, my coffee nearly spilling with every movement.
"We had couples coming here from all over to get engaged on the covered bridge.
Wedding photographers booking sessions months in advance.
The B&Bs were booked solid from May through October. "
"That was before our time," Maya points out.
"Because that was twenty years ago." The lights cooperate this time, and I secure them with a satisfied nod. "But it could be that way again. We just need something to put us back on the map. Something to remind people we exist. Our charm will do the rest."
Maya settles into the reading chair by the front window, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. "And you think a hockey player's life story is going to bring back the romance tourists?"
"I think Mac Sullivan has two million Instagram followers and a publicity team that knows how to get media attention.
I think he has a personal connection here that we can play on.
" I climb down and move to the next section, where I've arranged a display of sports romances alongside some fake snow and silver bells.
"When photos of this signing hit social media, people are going to see how magical this place is. "
"If you say so," she blows out a doubtful breath, but I can tell she's scrolling through her phone, probably already planning our own social media campaign. She might tease me about my optimism, but she wants the bookshop to succeed as much as I do.
I string lights around the sports romance display, creating a bridge between my usual stock and our guest. It's symbolic, really. Romance and real life coming together.
"I still don't understand why his people chose us for the final stop," Maya says without looking up from her phone. "I mean, I'm grateful, but we're not exactly a major market. You'd think they would want to finish it off in the city, where all his fans are."
That makes two of us. When the email came through three months ago, I thought it was spam.
Mac Sullivan, star forward for the Boston Howlers and my very first crush, wanted to do his final book signing at Rosewood Books?
It made no sense, unless it had something to do with Lily.
Grief makes people do strange things. Perhaps he's just supporting his dead sister's closest friend.
But his autobiography was released by a major publisher.
He could have had his pick of big-city bookstores, sports bars, or arena events.
Still, his team specifically requested a small, independent bookstore in New England for the tour's finale. Something about wanting an intimate setting for personal stories.
I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Maybe he has good taste," I say, adjusting a display of independent romance novels. "Or, maybe he appreciates the charm of independent bookstores. Maybe he remembers Millbrook Falls.”
Maya snorts. "Or maybe his publicist threw a dart at a map."
I choose to ignore that possibility. Maya wasn't super close with Lily, but the two were friendly enough through me that Lily's death affected her. Like the rest of the world, she hasn't fully forgiven Mac for the accident that took her away.
The truth is, I've been fascinated by him since I was eleven years old and realized what a push up bra was.
Every summer growing up, the Sullivan family rented the same cottage on Millbrook Lake.
Lily was my age, and we became fast friends during those magical two months when she wasn't just a snobby rich Boston kid, but a temporary local.
We'd spend hours at the bookshop with Gran, discussing our favorite novels and dreaming about the kind of love we'd find someday.
Mac was two years older and completely uninterested in his sister's small-town friend. He had better things to do. Hockey camps, pickup games with the local boys, trying to look cool for the summer tourists. I was invisible to him, just part of the scenery of his family vacations.
But I wasn't blind to him.
Even at seventeen, the last time I saw him, he was something special.
Tall and lean, with dark hair that always looked like he'd just run his fingers through it, and these incredible blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.
He moved with an athlete's confidence, but there was something gentle in the way he looked after Lily.
He'd tease her mercilessly, but god help anyone else who tried to mess with his little sister.
I had such a crush on him, it was embarrassing.
Not that he ever noticed. To Mac Sullivan, I was just the local girl who worked at the bookshop and happened to be friends with his sister. I might as well have been furniture.
Until the night he kissed me.
After that, the Sullivans stopped coming to Millbrook Falls, but me and Lily stayed in touch. We talked every day and knew all the tiniest details about each other—including my crush on her brother which, thankfully, she was kind about.
Now, a decade since I last saw him, Mac Sullivan is coming back to my bookshop. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Lily herself had a hand in things.
The boy who stole my first kiss and then never gave me a second glance is about to sign books at the counter where I used to fawn over fictional men with his little sister. The irony is almost too perfect.
"Earth to Delaney." Maya waves a hand in front of my face. "You're doing that thing where you disappear into your own head."
"Sorry." I shake myself back to the present and focus on stringing lights around the children's section. "Just thinking about the signing."
"Nervous?"
"Excited," I correct, though there's definitely some nerves mixed in there too. "This could be exactly what we need to turn things around."
And it's true. Rosewood Books is struggling.
Hell, all of Millbrook Falls is struggling.
Our tourist season gets shorter every year, and more young people leave for bigger cities after high school.
The romance angle that used to draw couples from all over New England feels outdated now, like something from another era.
But I refuse to give up on this place. Gran built something special here, and I'm not going to let it die on my watch.
"Have you figured out what you're going to say to him?" Maya asks.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you can't just stand there staring at him like you did when his publicist video chatted to confirm the details."
I throw a piece of tinsel at her. "I did not stare."
"You absolutely stared. Your mouth was hanging open and everything."
"That's because I was surprised," I protest, but I'm blushing now. "It's not every day a professional athlete wants to hold an event at your bookshop."
Maya grins. "Uh-huh. It has nothing to do with your teenage crush."
I sneer. "That was a long time ago."
"And yet you still get that dreamy look every time his name comes up."
I don't have a good response to that, so I focus on my decorating. The truth is, I am curious about what Mac Sullivan has become. The boy I remember was cocky but kind, protective of his sister, and completely unaware of his effect on awkward teenage girls.
The man he is now... well, I've seen the pictures.
Professional headshots for team publicity, action shots during games, the occasional candid photo when he's spotted out in Boston.
He's grown into those angular features, filled out that tall frame with muscle earned through years of professional athletics.
The confidence that was so attractive when he was sixteen has only intensified.
Some even call him Boston's most eligible bachelor. And he certainly lives up to the name.
But there's something else in his recent photos. Something tired around his eyes that wasn't there when we were kids. Success hasn't made him look happy, exactly. Just... older.
"All I'm saying is, try to play it cool," Maya continues. "Don't gush about Lily or how much you loved their family vacations. Keep it professional."
"Oh, I can be professional."
She tilts her head. "You cried during the last romance book club meeting because the heroine got her happy ending."
"That was beautiful character development! Dark romance really makes you work for that happily ever after."
Maya shrugs, but she's smiling. "Promise me you won't do anything embarrassing."
"I promise to run a successful author event that brings positive attention to Rosewood Books and Millbrook Falls," I say primly.
"That's not what I asked for."
I grin and climb down from the ladder to survey my work. The bookshop looks like a Christmas fairy exploded in here, all twinkling lights and holiday magic. It's exactly the kind of place that should host important events. The kind of place that deserves to be back on the map.
In two days, Mac Sullivan will walk through that door for the first time in ten years. He'll see what I've built here, what this town could be again with the right attention. Maybe he won't remember the girl who used to hang around while Lily bought books, but that's okay.
I'm not that invisible small-town girl anymore. I'm a business owner, a pillar of the community, someone who makes things happen.
And in two days, I'm going to make magic happen for Millbrook Falls.
I just have to keep my teenage crush buried long enough to pull it off.