A text buzzed. His sister. Neck deep in burlap. Burlap!!

  His lip twitched, then dropped as he thought of the upcoming wedding. The plans were going forward. What, had he thought they were going to cancel the thing? Did he want them to? That would be an unequivocal yes. Not because he wanted Amanda back. He was no slow learner. But the thought of having her in the family for the rest of his life sucked rotten eggs.

  He glanced at the drawer where he’d stashed the invitation, debating whether to open the thing. On one hand, seeing the formal invite might make it more real. On the other hand, hadn’t he just advised his sister to adjust to reality?

  The high-pitched wail of the saw cut through the room yet again. Seriously. What was she thinking?

  He cut his gaze back to the drawer. What the heck. He was already in a bad mood.

  He made a beeline for the drawer and jerked it open. Grabbed the invitation and ripped the thing open. The fancy card felt like velvet, but the color resembled regurgitated peas. He steeled himself before reading the fancy script.

  Mr. and Mrs. Daniels, along with Mr. and Mrs. Borden, joyfully invite you to the wedding of their children, Amanda Rose Borden and Taggart Ryan Daniels . . . He cut his gaze down to the date.

  July third.

  Only a month away. And really? Fourth of July weekend? How inconsiderate. But of course, Amanda wouldn’t think of other people or their holiday weekend plans.

  The piercing shriek of the saw started up again. He tossed down the invitation and strode to the door.

  * * *

  Sadie ran the saw over the pencil line for which she’d meticulously measured. After a couple of flub-ups she had one last cut and she’d have all the pieces ready to assemble. She’d found instructions online, and the man at the hardware store had been very kind, helping her locate all the supplies.

  A pair of feet appeared at her side.

  She jumped, letting loose of the saw, which went silent. She pulled her safety glasses up and met Sam’s gaze. The lighting wasn’t very good, but she managed to make out his rigid stance, crossed arms, and dark scowl. “You scared me.”

  “Isn’t it a little late for this?”

  She glanced at her watch. “Oh goodness. How’d that happen? I’m so sorry. This is my last cut, I promise, then I’ll be done making noise. I have to return the saw in the morning and I didn’t want to use it at dawn. This thing is pretty powerful, huh? I’m making a library.”

  He rubbed his temple. “What?”

  “A library. You know, one of those Little Free Libraries you see standing in neighborhoods or by a church or whatnot. I’m gonna put it up over there by the public-access path—isn’t that a great idea?”

  His scowl deepened.

  “Well, one last cut and I’m all done. Sorry to interrupt your evening. Thirty seconds—really. I promise.”

  He pierced her with a lingering scowl, then turned and skirted the plant divider.

  “Good night!” she called.

  He slipped inside the house.

  “Well. Somebody’s grumpy.”

  Six

  An alpha hero is powerful, protective, and confident. Though at first glance he may appear single-minded or heartless, make no mistake—he’s a complex and layered man.

  —Romance Writing 101

  The cursor blinked accusingly at Sadie.

  She sat on the deck, coffee at her fingertips, listening to Rio snoring under the table. The late-afternoon sun had already dropped behind the house, and a warm breeze ruffled Sadie’s hair. The surf pounded the shoreline in that soothing, rhythmic way, and her friends, the seagulls, shrieked overhead.

  She glanced at her Little Free Library, which she’d painted blue and white and screwed to the fence post right at the edge of the pathway two days ago. She planned to shingle the roof as the abrasion from the wind and sand would erode the paint.

  Every day people commented on it as they passed and stopped to peruse the titles. Books came and went. Her new friend, Keisha, came by each day with her adorable baby. She’d borrowed a book and brought another back the next day. Sadie fielded questions about the books themselves and the way the library worked. She’d finally added a hand-painted sign that said Take a book, leave a book.

  But no one was on the path now, and Sadie was sitting in front of her laptop with a still-blank document. It had been almost four full days now, and she’d made little progress. Okay, no progress. But now that her library project was finished, she could lock in and focus on this plot.

  She glanced down the beach where a couple played in the surf. The woman dunked him under the water, and he came up under her, lifting her on his shoulders while she squealed and clung to his head.

  Was he an alpha male? None of the men in her life fit the mold. The male teachers at her school were more scholarly. Her dad was definitely a beta. Her grandpa, while certainly a man’s man, had been talkative and gentle.

  She had a sudden vision of her neighbor storming out onto the deck a few nights ago. Definitely alpha behavior. She had no idea if he was protective, but he was certainly assertive. And he was the strong, silent type, wasn’t he? Had hardly said twenty words to her in five days.

  Did she dare use Sam as her alpha prototype? She glanced down at her blank document, desperation knotting her stomach. Why, yes, she would.

  She jotted a few notes: swarthy-skinned, muscular frame, black hair, rugged, facial hair. She remembered those lion eyes and wrote that down too. Her hero would be staying at the beach too. On vacation? Could a romance develop in a week or two? That sounded challenging, not to mention unlikely.

  Maybe he could be taking a leave of absence—or he could be independently wealthy. Those billionaire books appealed to some women. But not Sadie, so maybe not a billionaire romance.

  Perhaps she should consider the heroine. She could be—Sadie glanced back at the house—sharing a duplex with the hero? A little familiar, yes, but everyone advised writers to “write what you know.” And this she knew—she was living it after all. Maybe her living situation would even spark ideas for her story.

  She read her notes. Okay, great. She was getting somewhere. At least the page wasn’t blank anymore.

  The slide of a door alerted her to Sam’s presence. He stepped out onto the deck, still wearing his work uniform. The pale gray tee sported the same logo as the truck and trailer in his driveway. The shirt was paired with khaki shorts and dirty tennis shoes.

  “Howdy, neighbor.” When he glanced over she gave him a big smile and a wave.

  “Hi.”

  “Finished working for the day?” She glanced at her watch. “Oh goodness, it’s dinnertime already.” She’d wasted almost the entire day.

  She hadn’t seen much of him lately. He’d been gone—working, she presumed—from dawn to dusk. And he tended to stay inside once he returned home.

  He lowered himself into a chair and pulled off his shoes and socks. At least, that’s what she thought he was doing. It was hard to see around those trees. And more was the pity, because she could get ideas just by observing him. (Not exactly a burdensome proposition.)

  He cupped the back of his neck—was he stressed, or were his muscles strained from work? She’d also seen him rub his temples a time or two. Did he have chronic headaches? And then there was that low, throaty voice of his. And let’s not forget the biceps. She wasn’t likely to.

  “Did you see my library?” She pointed toward her masterpiece. “People have been checking out books already.”

  He grunted and settled back in his chair.

  Hmm. The alpha male grunts. She noted that in her document. Then she got up, wandered over to her library, and took a peek inside. She straightened the books. Someone had placed a newer beach book inside. Looked like her next romance read. She pulled it out and shoved the door closed. Time to think about dinner.

  Dinner took longer than expected. She decided on spaghetti and Caesar salad, which required a quick grocery run. Once home, she washed and chopped the romaine, shredded a block of parmesan, and whipped up a dressing with a recipe she found online. She browned the beef, boiled the pasta, and cheated on the sauce with a jar of Prego, which she spiced up with fresh herbs.

  By the time she finished eating, the sun was setting. “Wanna go outside, Rio? Gotta go potty? Mommy’s favorite girl, aren’t you? Yes, you are.” Sadie rubbed her ears affectionately, then slipped outside and set her down.

  The dog took off, nose sniffing the air.

  Surprisingly, Sam was still reclining in the same chair, feet propped on the railing, eyes closed. Sleeping, perhaps.

  Sadie followed Rio into the yard. The beach had emptied while she’d been inside, everyone going home for their own meals.

  Leaving Rio to do her business, she wandered over to the library and checked inside again. She felt quite possessive of the structure, like an actual librarian.

  “I’m a little librarian.” She snorted.

  Ah, a new book. She pulled out the title—a hardcover edition of Christy, which sported a nice burgundy cover featuring nothing but the title and author’s name, Catherine Marshall. The book was either old or made to appear old, she couldn’t tell which.

  She’d never actually read the novel, but she’d heard of it. She was tempted to give it a read, but no. She needed to stick to contemporary romance if she was ever going to get this book finished.

  Still, curious, she opened the cover, taking a moment to smell the pages, because why not? She flipped through and frowned. Something was wrong. The middle pages were cut out and something was . . .

  Something nested inside of a hidden compartment.

  A black velvet box.

  Seven

  Telling the story from the hero’s and heroine’s points of view allows the reader to view the story through two pairs of eyes.

  —Romance Writing 101

  Sadie gaped at what appeared to be a jeweler’s box. What was inside it? Almost before finishing the thought, she reached for the container. Her fingers trembled as she grasped and tugged—the thing was in there tight. Finally she pried it free and snapped open the lid.

  And gasped again.

  A gorgeous solitaire diamond gleamed back at her. An engagement ring! Her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. Who would put a ring inside a—?

  Her mind flashed back to a Facebook post she’d come across recently in one of her book club groups. A member’s fiancé had proposed by hiding an engagement ring inside her favorite novel.

  She glanced down at the ring. But how had it ended up here, in her Little Library? Someone must’ve made a terrible mistake. She scanned the beach. Maybe whoever had left the book was still on the beach. She jogged a few steps before remembering to close the yard gate, ran back and shut it, then took off again. A middle-aged woman sat in a beach chair not far from the waterline.

  As Sadie approached the woman, she snapped the jewelry box closed and tucked it back into the book. “Excuse me!”

  The woman looked up from her phone.

  “Did you leave a book in the Little Library over there?” She held up the novel.

  “No, sure didn’t.”

  “Did you see anyone go over that way?”

  “No, but I’ve only been here a few minutes.”

  Sadie’s spirits sank. “Okay, thank you.” She was already scanning the beach for other occupants. A male jogger had recently passed by on his way south. An older couple strolled the waterline, heading north. No one else was sitting on the beach as far as she could see.

  Sometime in the past hour and a half, someone had left this book in the library. If only someone had seen—

  Sam. He’d been sitting on the deck all this time. Surely he’d seen who’d placed the book in the library.

  She struggled through the deep sand and back up the pathway. Rio met her at the gate, but Sadie was in a rush to reach the deck. She barreled around the tree divider. “Sam! Sam, did you see someone stop at the—?”

  His dark brows furrowed over narrowed eyes. She’d obviously awakened him from a nap.

  * * *

  “Sorry,” Sadie said. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but did you see who put this book in my Little Library?”

  What bee was in her bonnet now? He’d been in the middle of a nice nap wherein he hadn’t been dreaming or thinking about or cursing his cousin and ex-girlfriend. “I was sleeping.”

  “Right, right. I’m sorry to wake you, but before that did you happen to see anyone on the pathway? Anyone coming or going at all? It’s really important.”

  His gaze focused on the book she waved around like a maniac. Seemed like everything was really important to her. The dog, Fifi or whatever, jumped into his lap and licked his face. Blech.

  “Sorry.” Sadie lifted the dog from his lap and set her on the deck. “Go play, Rio, that’s a good girl. So did you see anyone? Just someone passing by maybe, in the past hour and a half since I went inside?”

  He blinked the sleep away and tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe there was someone. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “Male? Female? Old? Young?”

  “I don’t know. I can hardly see out that way.” He gestured toward the trees. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a book.”

  She cracked open the spine and extended it dramatically, pages up.

  He blinked at the unexpected interior. What the—?

  “There’s a ring inside that box—an engagement ring! This”—she shook the book—“was supposed to be somebody’s proposal.”

  “Proposal?”

  She rolled her eyes. The golden hour made them a pretty caramel color. “A man tucks an engagement ring into a hidden compartment inside a woman’s favorite novel and presents it to her, then gets down on bended knee and asks her to marry him—a proposal.”

  “That’s a thing?” Her dog squatted on his side of the yard. Perfect.

  “Look it up. But whoever left the book couldn’t have possibly known the ring was in it. And now some poor guy’s proposal is ruined!” She removed the box from the compartment and opened the lid. “Look.”

  He hitched his eyebrows. Nice. Solitaire diamond, at least a carat and a half. White-gold band. Yeah, he’d done some ring shopping with Amanda.

  “We have to find the person who put it there or this guy’s proposal will be ruined.”

  There was no “we” about it. This whole engagement business put him in mind of Tag and Amanda, and that was the last thing he wanted to think about. “Well, I didn’t see anybody, so I don’t know how you’re going to find them.”

  She plopped down on a chair—on his side of the deck—and began flipping through the pages. “Maybe there’s some clue inside. Or maybe I can visit the jeweler. They keep records, right?”

  “No idea.”

  “Ooh, it’s got a stamp inside the back cover. Moss Creek Community Church.”

  “What?” That was his church—at least, his parents’ church. He and Amanda had attended someplace else, when they attended at all. But now Tag and Amanda attended there with his family.

  “You know of it?”

  “It’s off island, between here and Bluffton.”

  She fiddled with her phone. “There probably wouldn’t be anyone there this late on a Thursday. Here’s the number.” She tapped her screen and put the phone to her ear. Half a minute later she sighed. “It went to voice mail, darn it. Why would someone leave a library book in my box? Wouldn’t they have to return it?”

  “I guess you’ll find out soon enough. Call tomorrow and ask for Ms. Stapleton’s number. She runs the church library.”

  “Wait, you know her? This is your church?”

  “Used to be. But I don’t think you’ll have much luck finding the owner of that book through her.”

  “Why not?” She tilted her head, seeming so innocent with those wide brown eyes blinking back at him.

  “She’s a stickler for the rules.” Once, she’d gotten him out of Sunday school to interrogate him about the whereabouts of a book he’d checked out and lost. He wasn’t allowed to borrow books from her library again—not even once he’d become an adult.

  “A stickler for the . . .” Sadie beamed at him and waved his words away. “You only think that because you haven’t seen me at my best. I can be quite charming when I want to be. By the time I finish with Ms. Stapleton, I’ll have her eating out of my hand. You’ll see.”

  He almost wished he could be there to see it. “Well, good luck with that.”

  Eight

  The hero and heroine must spend time together in order for their relationship to develop. Devise a valid reason for their togetherness rather than relying on a number of chance meetings.

  —Romance Writing 101

  It had been all Sadie could do to wait for Sam to return home from work the next evening. She’d even given him twenty minutes before she knocked on his sliding glass door. And now he stood there, hair still wet, frown tugging a pair of perfectly nice lips.

  “I need your help,” she said.

  He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Is that so?”

  “I talked to Ms. Stapleton today. She purged the library and is having a book sale this week—that explains why the person left it in my library instead of returning it—so I caught her at the church this morning.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “She was heartless! Imagine not even trying to return a missing engagement ring to the man who’d bought it. The poor guy could be planning to propose this weekend. He could have made a restaurant reservation weeks ago. They could be here on vacation and leaving soon.”

  “Those charms failed you, did they?”

  She notched her chin upward. “And not very gentlemanly of you to point it out. Are you going to help me or not?”