Written in the Stars

PRAISE FOR L
U
ANN M
C
LANE'S CRICKET CREEK NOVELS

Sweet Harmony

“Luann McLane writes a wonderful series in a small town....If you enjoy sweet, lighthearted romances that [have] some great sexy scenes [and] a great couple and secondary characters...then
Sweet Harmony
is perfect for you.”

—­The Reading Cafe

“A fun, sweet, romantic read....As usual Cricket Creek did not fail to welcome me to their small, sweet Southern town complete with quirky and interesting characters.”

—­That's What I'm Talking About

“Readers will love the country music overtones in this book, as well as the charming small-­town setting and robust characters...[an] excellent series.”

—­Debbie's Book Bag

“Expert storytelling, heartwarming characters, and good pacing makes this contemporary romance shine.”

—­
RT Book Reviews

Wildflower Wedding

“A lovely, sweetly sexy, terrifically enjoyable read....­McLane's Cricket series is similar in style to Susan Wiggs's bestselling Lakeshore Chronicles.”

—­
Booklist

“Packed with emotion and hot, hot sex...a cleverly written story.”

—­Fresh Fiction

“Sweet romance with small-­town Southern charm....McLane weaves together walks in the moonlight, stolen glances, and kisses under the stars with seduction and sizzling sex, populating the carefully crafted story with a cast of affable characters.”

—­
Publishers Weekly

“In this modern Southern romance, charming bad boy Reese and sassy Gabby's chemistry sizzles. McLane gives readers characters they'll care about as she expertly weaves a tale of love and past regrets.”

—­
RT Book Reviews

Moonlight Kiss

“Alluring love scenes begin with the simplicity of a kiss in this romantic Southern charmer.”

—­
Publishers Weekly

“A sweet love story set in the quaint Southern town of Cricket Creek. Reid makes for a sexy hero who could melt any heart.”

—­
RT Book Reviews

“A very charming story, and I would be more than happy to read the entire series.”

—­The Bookish Babe

“McLane nails the charm, quirks, nosiness, friendliness, and sense of community you'd experience in a small Southern town as you walk the streets of Cricket Creek...engaging and sweet characters whose chemistry you feel right from the start.”

—­
That's What I'm Talking About

Whisper's Edge

“This latest foray to McLane's rural enclave has all the flavor and charm of a small town where everyone knows everyone else and doesn't mind butting in when the need arises. With a secondary romance between members of the slightly older generation,
Whisper's Edge
offers a comforting read where love does ‘trump' insecurities, grief, and best-­laid plans.”

—­
Library Journal

“Visiting Cricket Creek, Kentucky, feels like coming home once again.”

—­
RT Book Reviews

“Cute, funny, and full of romance.”

—­Love to Read for Fun

“LuAnn McLane has a rich and unique voice that kept me laughing out loud as I read.”

—­Romance Junkies

Pitch Perfect

“McLane packs secrets, sex, and sparks of gentle humor in an inviting picnic basket of Southern charm.”

—­
Ft. Myers & Southwest Florida

“A delightful...charming tale.”

—­
RT Book Reviews

“Entertaining [and] lighthearted.”

—­Genre Go Round Reviews

“McLane writes a romantic, lighthearted feel-­good story.”

—­Romance Reviews Today

Catch of a Lifetime

“I thoroughly enjoyed this amusing tale of baseball fanatics and a quiet little town that everyone falls in love with. The residents are all amusing and interesting...pure entertainment!”

—­Fresh Fiction

Playing for Keeps

“A fun tale.”

—­
Midwest Book Review

“Charming, romantic...this new series should be a real hit!”

—­Fresh Fiction

“McLane's trademark devilish dialogue is in fine form for this series.”

—­
Publishers Weekly

“No one does Southern love like LuAnn McLane!”

—­The Romance Dish

ALSO BY L
U
ANN M
C
LANE

C
ONTEMPORARY
R
OMANCES

Walking on Sunshine: A Cricket Creek Novel

Sweet Harmony: A Cricket Creek Novel

Wildflower Wedding: A Cricket Creek Novel

“Mistletoe on Main Street” in
Christmas on Main Street

A
NTHOLOGY

Moonlight Kiss: A Cricket Creek Novel

Whisper's Edge: A Cricket Creek Novel

Pitch Perfect: A Cricket Creek Novel

Catch of a Lifetime: A Cricket Creek Novel

Playing for Keeps: A Cricket Creek Novel

He's No Prince Charming

Redneck Cinderella

A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action

Trick My Truck but Don't Mess with My Heart

Dancing Shoes and Honky-­Tonk Blues

Dark Roots and Cowboy Boots

E
ROTIC
R
OMANCES

“Hot Whisper” in
Wicked Wonderland
anthology

Driven by Desire

Love, Lust, and Pixie Dust

Hot Summer Nights

Wild Ride

Taking Care of Business

SIGNET ECLIPSE

Published by New American Library,

an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

This book is an original publication of New American Library.

Copyright © LuAnn McLane, 2015

Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

Signet Eclipse and the Signet Eclipse colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

For more information about Penguin Random House, visit penguin.com.

ISBN 978-0-698-16175-7

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is for Tim and Maria. Your love story that began as teenagers and blossomed as adults is proof to me that some things are written in the stars.

Acknowledgments

I want to give a special thanks to my sons Ryan and Tim McLane for answering my questions about craft beer. Your delicious home-­brewed ale was the inspiration for having a craft brewery in Cricket Creek, Kentucky. Thanks to craft breweries all over the world for the amazing ales with clever names. Oh and of course all of my beer tastings were done in the name of research.

Thanks again to the wonderful editorial staff at New American Library. I am so lucky to have lovely covers that capture the essence of the story. I want to thank Christina Brower for the attention to detail and for keeping me on track. With this team behind me, I couldn't ask for a better finished product. Thanks to Jessica Brock and Kayleigh Clark for promoting the Cricket Creek series and for teaching me how to navigate social media. I have learned so much from both of you. A very special thank-­you goes to my editor, Danielle Perez. From brainstorming cover ideas to tackling revisions, you continue to challenge me and make me a better writer.

As always, thanks to my agent, Jenny Bent. When we first met, you told me to dream big, and you've made my dreams a reality.

And thank you so much to my readers! Connecting with you on social media and meeting you at signings and conferences brings me such joy. My goal will always be to give you a story that makes you laugh and believe in happily ever after.

The Eye of the Storm

“S
IRI,
I
HAVE NOT ARR
IVED!”
G
RACE
G
ORDON
TU
CKED
A
lock of her windblown blond hair behind her ear and sighed. “This is getting super annoying.” She held the phone close to her mouth and spoke slowly and clearly, “Walking on Sunshine Bistro at Mayfield Marina, Cricket Creek, Kentucky.”

“The destination is on your left. You have arrived.”

“No! A big red building is on my left! There isn't a bistro or marina in sight.” With her free hand, Grace gripped the steering wheel of her rented convertible and teetered on tears of frustration. “You suck,” she said to Siri, but then winced. “Sorry,” she said quickly, and then remembered that she was talking to a computer-generated voice. But still, no need to be rude.

“No need to be sorry,” Siri assured her.

“Okay, that was a little creepy,” Grace mumbled, and tossed the phone over onto the passenger seat. Pressing her lips together, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands while wondering what to do next.

When her phone pinged, Grace reached for it, hoping it was her sister answering the million texts she'd sent her over the past hour. “I should have known,” Grace said as she read a message from her mother asking if she'd arrived safely. “No! I'm completely lost,” she said while she typed with her thumbs.

Of course, her mother immediately called. Becca Gordon always stepped in when her children were in distress, and she had an uncanny way of knowing even without a phone call. She could usually calm down Grace's mild-­mannered sister, Sophia, but Grace was more like her half brother, Garret...a handful and then some. And, oh, how she missed Garret too!

“Gracie, love, you should have been there by now. Am I right?”

“Mum, what don't you understand about I'm
lost
?” Grace drew out the word
lost
for a few seconds. “As in I don't know where in the world I'm at except it's somewhere in Kentucky.”

Her mother chucked softly. “Oh, Gracie...”

“It isn't funny!” Grace tipped her face up to the sky just as a bird flew by and pooped on her jeans leg. She let out a squeal of anger.

“Oh, come on, darling, it's not that bad.”

“Really? A bird just...just had the nerve to
crap
on me!” She looked around for a napkin from her unhealthy fast-­food lunch. Right, the napkin and wrapper had fluttered out of the convertible like butterfly wings, making her feel all kinds of guilt.

Her mother laughed harder.

“Mum! Seriously? What's so funny about my misery?”

“Well, for starters, you revert to an English accent when you get angry or upset. I'm sorry. I just find it rather amusing.”

“Seriously? Have you forgotten that you're English and I've lived with you in London for the past two years? That I've traveled back and forth to England all of my not-­so-­normal life?”

“Your not-­so-­normal life made you into the amazing and successful woman you are today. Would you have it any other way?”

“Well, when you put it that way...” Grace had to grin. “Of course not.”

“I thought so. And, darling, to answer your question, I might be in my fifties, but I'm not forgetful yet. And I've not forgotten that you can get turned around in your own backyard.”

“It makes going on a holiday an adventure, and I've discovered some really cool places taking the road less traveled,” Grace said a bit defensively, but she had to grin again. “And you were often with me.”

“Fair enough. You get your lack of sense of direction from me. Sorry about that.”

Grace looked down at her soiled thigh and then cast a wary glance skyward.

“Aren't you using your GPS?”

“Siri is being rather difficult, I'm afraid. This was only supposed to be a two-­hour drive from the Nashville airport to Cricket Creek. I'm well beyond that now.”

“So I gather that you rented a convertible like you wanted to?”

“Yes, and it was nearly instant regret. I thought it would be fun rolling through the countryside in the late days of summer with the top down. But driving on the interstate was scary as hell! Everything was super loud. Trucks were terrifying, kicking up rocks and so on. And I littered by accident.” She wasn't about to tell her mother it was a cheeseburger wrapper. Even though her mother's modeling days were over, Becca Gordon still consumed only healthy food. “Now I get the whole
Thelma and Louise
ending.”

“Put the top up, silly girl.”

Grace winced. “Um, I might have zoned out when that whole part was explained to me. Something about a switch and clamps.” She looked around, nibbling on her lip. “I was distracted by the cute guy who rented me the car.”

“Well, good.”

“That I don't remember how to put the top up?”

“No, that you were distracted by a cute guy. You've been all work and no play for far too long, Gracie.”

“Ha! I could say the same thing about you. When was the last time you went out on a date?”

Her mother sighed. “Like they say, all the good ones are either taken or gay.”

Gracie couldn't really argue with that one.

“Sophia will know how to put the top up.”

“Right, I know, she's the smart sister. I'm the creative one. La-­de-­da.”

“Oh, that's rubbish. All three of you are smart and creative and gorgeous. Sophia had a convertible, remember?”

“Yes. Well, at this rate, by the time I find the bistro it will be dark and she might have already gone home.”

“Have you called Sophia or Garret?”

“Are you kidding? I've blown up their phones. Sophia's goes straight to voice mail, so her phone must be dead. Garret isn't answering, so I'm guessing he might be in the recording studio or taking care of Mattie. I can't wait to see her baby bump.”

“Yes, poor little thing was put on bed rest. Garret has been sick with worry. I will be so happy when the baby girl is finally here.”

“Me too! I am going to be the best aunt ever. Hey, but speaking of dead phones, my phone is getting there too. I'm going to give Siri another go before my phone peters out.”

“Don't you have a car charger?”

“I forgot it.”

“Is there someplace you can stop and ask for directions like we did back in the good old days?”

“No, it's all country roads...trees...cows.” She angled her head. “There is a building in front of me, and I think there might be lights on. Maybe I should check it out.”

“Gracie...,” Becca said in her worried-­mother voice. “I don't recommend going into a random building,” she said, which really meant don't you dare go in there.

“Don't worry, Mum. I have to be close to the bistro at this point. There's water to the right of this building, so I have to be somewhat near the marina too. I'll be fine,” she said, but the woods suddenly looked a bit sinister. She squinted, looking for beady little eyes. Sometimes having a vivid imagination wasn't fun.

“Okay. Well, text or call me as soon as you can. Promise?”

“I will. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you too. Give everyone a big hug for me. I'll be there as soon as Garret and Mattie's baby girl is born next month. I've already cleared my schedule for most of the summer.” Although her mother was still CEO of her own clothing company, as soon as she'd found out that she was going to become a grandmother, she'd put the wheels in motion to turn the reins of her company over to capable people.

“Sure thing. Bye, Mum.”

“Do be careful. Bye now, Gracie.”

After ending the call, Grace got a bit teary-­eyed. Her mother and Garret were the only ones who still called her Gracie. Funny, but she often thought that her vintage name didn't fit her outgoing personality and that she and quiet little Sophia should switch names.

Grace closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. Oh, she wanted to see her sister! And Garret too. She'd gotten to know Mattie while Garret was in London filming the popular talent show
Sing for Me
. Grace was so happy that her former wild-­child musician half brother had settled down with such a wonderful girl. And Garret was going to be a daddy soon. Unbelievable!

Grace dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She wasn't much of a crier, but the sheer frustration of being close and yet so far was getting to her. A glance into the rearview mirror made her cringe. “Oh wow, that can't possibly be accurate.” The gold clip had given up on keeping her long blond hair under control hours ago. She ran her tongue over her teeth and felt a little something.

Oh, please let it be a sesame seed.

Wide-­eyed, she looked at her teeth in the mirror and saw a black speck. “Dear God, is that a bug on my tooth?” Grace rubbed at it with her finger and then checked it out. Okay, just a tiny gnat, but still...ew.

Grace desperately wanted to rinse her mouth with water. She groaned and then remembered that she had a couple of bottles in her carry-­on bag in the trunk. The water would be warm, but at this point she didn't care. Besides, stretching her legs would feel amazing. And she needed to find a leaf or something to wipe the bird doo off her jeans.

Just as Grace opened the car door, she heard a rumble of thunder. “Don't even...” She tilted her face upward and peered at the sky, which had gone from cheerful blue to gunmetal gray. Maybe it was just getting dark, she hoped, but then a raindrop splashed on her forehead. Just one. “Please...God, no.” She held her breath and waited. Nothing.

Sweet, false alarm.

“Okay, time to figure out how to put the top up,” Grace said, thinking it couldn't be that difficult. And then, without even another clap of thunder for fair warning, the heavens opened and it started pouring. Wind whipped her hair across her face and she became instantly soaked to the skin. With a shriek of alarm and a glance of regret at the convertible, she ran for the empty building, hoping for an open door and no rats, spiders, or creepy things. Luckily, the door opened and she hurried inside, dripping wet and thoroughly pissed off at Mother Nature. “Is there no end to this crappy day?” she wailed.

“You've still got a few hours left,” said a deep voice laced with the South. Startled, Grace looked around and saw metal tanks, lots of them, and it smelled...weird. Dear God, what had she walked into? Some kind of drug-­making thing? “Got caught in the storm?” he asked, but failed to appear.

Grace spun around, but still didn't see anyone.

“Just a little pop-­up thunderstorm. Trust me. It'll soon pass over.”

“If you're God, you can stop with the practical jokes.”

“Practical jokes?”

“You know, the bug on my tooth, the bird doo on my leg, and now the unexpected rain.” She looked around but didn't see the man behind the voice amid the tall tanks and coils. Something hissed and sputtered. To her right was a large vat with something thick and frothy floating in it.

“I'm glad you found shelter. It's coming down hard out there.”

“Yes, it is.” But Grace didn't know whether to be glad or not. Perhaps she should have listened to her mother. Because Grace had grown up in big cities, she'd been taught to be wary, but her curiosity usually trumped the need for safety. If she were a character in a haunted-­house horror movie, she would be the one going into the basement with a flashlight. Her mum would be the one ushering people to safety, and Sophia wouldn't have ventured into the house in the first place.

Grace looked around, thinking it was rather odd finding this whatever-­it-­was factory out here in the middle of nowhere. Although she was intrigued, her fight-­or-­flight instinct was starting to kick in, with flight winning. Swallowing hard, she took a step backward, thinking she might need to make a quick exit.

“Well, I'm sure not God, so I have to ask, who are you and where did you come from in the pouring rain?”

“I think that's my line.” Grace always resorted to false bravado when she was scared or intimated. When something clanked, she edged another step toward the door.

“Well, this brewery is mine, so I think it really
is
my line, if you don't mind me sayin' so.”

“Beer?” Grace looked around and felt a measure of relief. “So this is a brewery.” She looked around again. “Wow...and you're the beer guy.”

“Brewmaster, thank you very much. And considered a god to some, so you weren't too far off base,” he said with a hint of humor. “By the way, I'm up here.”

Grace tilted her head back and saw the source of the voice up on a ladder doing something to a big tank that looked kind of like the world's largest teakettle. He'd poked his head around the side so she could finally see the man with the Southern Comfort voice. “So, there you are.”

“Here I am. Not heaven, but close enough.” He gazed down at her, and Grace simply couldn't look away. Longish dark hair framed a handsome face. But he was no pretty boy. Oh no, he had a strong jawline, Greek nose, and high cheekbones. His rugged good looks were heightened by a sexy five-­o'clock shadow. Oh, but it was his mouth that captured her attention. Looking at those full lips made her feel warm and tingly, like she'd just taken a shot of potent whiskey. Realizing she was staring, Grace lowered her gaze and looked around. “A brewery, huh? I could use a pint about now.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“Thank you. It appears quite interesting.” When Grace looked up again, he gave her the slightest of grins, almost as though he didn't smile too often, and then descended the ladder so quickly she wondered how he didn't fall. As he walked her way, Grace noticed how his wide shoulders tested the cotton of a standard black ­T-­shirt tucked into faded jeans riding low on his hips.