Home at Last
Home is where the heart
is…
Marcus Beckett left
Sanctuary Island after his mother’s funeral, and he hasn’t been back since.
Until now. Needing a change from the high-risk, high-stakes life of a
bodyguard, Marcus makes a solitary life for himself running the neighborhood
bar in his hometown. His only mistake? Seducing and then dumping the town’s
sweetheart, Quinn Harper. Marcus knows he did the right thing—a good girl like
Quinn has no business with a broken man like him. But now no one will come to
his bar, and he’s watching his last chance at a peaceful life go up in smoke.
So when Quinn proposes a fake four-week courtship, he can’t refuse…even though
he knows it’s a bad idea.It’s a romantic charade that will buy Quinn time to distract her mother and father from their own marital problems—and will help Marcus welcome back some paying customers. But what begins as an engagement of convenience slowly transforms into a deeper connection, one that heals both of their hearts. . .and ignites the simmering passion between them. Could it be that pretending to be together is just what Quinn and Marcus needed to give their real love a second chance?
My Review
I briefly got to know Marcus and Quinn in Close to Home. I really liked them and could not wait to read their story. After finishing this book, their story is even better than I hoped. I recently finished another book where the male lead had a nickname for the female lead. Marcus has one for Quinn as well. It is "Turbo". Knowing the meaning behind it makes it all that more enduring. Despite a 10 year age difference, it was not felt as Quinn and Marcus interacted with each other. In fact, I think it actually helped their relationship as Quinn was so much wiser beyond her young age. There was so many emotions captured in their relationship. Which I connected with them both as people and as a couple. Plus, their story showed that there is more to love than just sex. While, this book was focused mainly on Quinn and Marcus; the other characters did not just sit by and play second string. Additionally, they had strong presence in this story as well and I enjoyed every one of them. I felt like I had come home with this book. Home at Last is a heart-warming read!
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LILY
EVERETT is the author of the Sanctuary Island series for St. Martin's
Press. She grew up in a small town in the foothills of Virginia's Blue Ridge
Mountains and now resides in Austin, Texas, where she writes full-time.
Excerpt
Quinn had taken the floor for exactly the reasons
she’d said, in addition to the knowledge that however
little she liked to think it mattered, Marcus was ten years older than she was. And he was a secret stress
case who carried all his tension in his back and shoulders. She should know, since she’d nearly sprained her thumbs trying to dig the knots out during a massage that had started out sexy and turned into a to-the-death battle between Quinn and the long muscles lining
Marcus’s spine.
Marcus didn’t need to screw up his back by lying on the floor for eight hours, was her point. Not that she
would ever say that to him. She didn’t have a death
wish.
But as it turned out, the floor was more uncomfortable than Quinn had anticipated. And as the hours wore down, so did her resistance to the temptation of the warm,
soft bed
mere inches
from her
stiff, aching
body.
She stared at Marcus’s sleeping form and wondered if she dared.
Then she wondered what the hell was the matter with her. It was a bed. They were adults. Sleeping next to each other didn’t mean they were automatically
going to cross some invisible, arbitrary line. She wasn’t
going to roll over in her sleep and accidentally impale
herself on his penis. They’d be fine.
This is fine, she told herself, getting up off her shaky knees and creeping around to the other side of the bed. The way her knees popped when she stood up was a
deciding factor. Quinn carefully peeled back the covers and slid into the bed beside Marcus.
Quinn held her breath, but he didn’t move. His broad chest rose and fell with his deep, even breaths. He threw off heat like a roaring bonfire; Quinn went from
chilled to toasty in seconds.
Letting her body relax into the softness of the mat-
tress, she drifted peacefully into sleep.
Quinn’s dreams were chaotic, flashes of memories mixed with totally random people from her past and present. She was aware they were dreams, in that vague way that happens sometimes, even when the dreamer is
deeply asleep.
In the dream, she and Marcus were walking through
the woods behind her parents’ house, holding hands. Even Dream Quinn couldn’t suspend disbelief quite enough for that. Marcus wasn’t a hand-holding kind of
guy. So she knew it was a dream, even as he led her deeper into the pine copse, their footfalls muffled by
layers and layers of dried pine needles that released
their evergreen scent as they
were crushed.
Come here, said Dream Marcus, giving Quinn
the smile she’d only glimpsed once or twice—the small, private, completely unguarded smile that made Marcus look like the carefree boy Quinn had first fallen
for.
She could never resist that particular smile. Not that she wanted to resist. This was only a dream. She could have whatever she wanted, with
no consequences.
Emboldened by her freedom, Quinn followed
Marcus down to lie on a bed of springy green moss. He lay back, arms crossed behind his head and more relaxed than she’d ever seen him in real life. Sunlight
dappled his handsome face, patterns of light and
shadow that shivered over his cheekbones when wind
fluttered through the branches overhead.
Her heart swelled with all the feelings she’d been
stuffing down and denying since the day Marcus un- ceremoniously ended their relationship. It wasn’t smart to care about him. She knew that, and Quinn wanted to be smart, she really did.
The trouble was that she’d never learned how to stop
caring about someone. Her poor, bruised heart was as
optimistic and stubborn as her hungry body was when
it
came to Marcus Beckett.
Despair teased at Quinn’s mind, but she pushed it
away. This is a dream, she said aloud to remind them both.
Only a dream.
Beneath her, Marcus smiled again, the smile that promised things like love and forever and the kind of
pleasure she could live on. Thighs tensing with need
where she was suddenly straddling his hips, Quinn felt
the low-down clench of her body around the emptiness only Marcus could fill.
A shudder racked her, sweeping up her frame in a
rush that tightened the peaks of her breasts and forced her mouth open
on a
gasp.
Yes, like that, Marcus murmured, his eyes going hot and feral the way she remembered from their first nights of passion. The grip of his hands at her hips ex- cited Quinn. She squirmed a little, wanting to feel it,
hoping it bruised so she could look in the mirror later and see the evidence of
Marcus’s desire for her.
With a smooth twist of his massive torso, he flipped them so that Quinn’s back was arching off the cool moss and Marcus was covering her with his body. Her legs fell open, wanton and wanting, and she relished the stretch of her thighs as he fit himself into the cradle of her hips.
His hardness slotted against her softness with a series of rhythmic nudges that stoked the fire inside Quinn higher and higher. In the dream, her panties melted away like
fog, and he
was
naked
too,
and
they were pressed together
so intimately and perfectly and yet, somehow, there was still something in the way, a barrier to Quinn getting what she really wanted. Frustration mounting, she reached down between their hot, straining
bodies
and
felt
. . . cotton?
Quinn blinked and suddenly, instead of staring up
at
the waving pine needles of the Lantern Point woods, she was looking at the familiar starburst pattern of the plaster ceiling
in her girlhood bedroom.
Her immediate thought was a dismayed No, let me
go
back to the dream! But in the next instant, she realized Marcus was still on top of her, his hard chest and strong arms caging her in. Their legs were tangled
hopelessly in the sheets and they were both still wearing what they’d
gone to bed in, but other than that?
The dream
was
real.
Eyes still closed, Marcus twisted his hips, grinding
wickedly against Quinn’s most sensitive spot and scattering her thoughts like dried pine needles before she
could figure out what to do. She reacted mindlessly, her body taking over and bowing up hard, her arms going around Marcus’s neck.
Through her haze of heated lust, Quinn saw the exact moment Marcus woke up.
Copyright © 2017 by Lily Everett and
reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Press.
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