Love Blooms

By Denise Hunter

Spring, summer, fall, and winter, Smitten is a place for love  . . . and mystery.

But master gardener Clare Thomas is about to dig up something surprising.

There’s a secret in Grandma Rose’s attic—a forgotten set of dog tags belonging to her first love. But David Hutchins was killed in action and never returned to town. How did the dog tags end up in the Grandma’s attic? It’s a romantic mystery fit for a town like Smitten, Vermont, which has been working hard to reinvent itself as a destination for lovers. Rose’s three granddaughters are determined to investigate, though their mother Anna has reservations about digging up the past. But will they get distracted by mystery men of their own before they solve the puzzle of the dogtags?

In Love Blooms, Clare is really, really tired of being called predictable, which is why she decides to gives a job at her nursery to the scruffy vagabond on a motorcycle. Is trusting her instincts the most foolish thing she’s ever done . . . or the smartest?

Excerpted from Secretly Smitten, a novel in four parts written by Inspirational fiction’s most popular romance novelists—and real life BFFs!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jan 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781401689315

Denise Hunter

Denise Hunter is the internationally published, bestselling author of more than forty books, three of which have been adapted into original Hallmark Channel movies. She has won the Holt Medallion Award, the Reader’s Choice Award, the Carol Award, the Foreword Book of the Year Award, and is a RITA finalist. When Denise isn’t orchestrating love lives on the written page, she enjoys traveling with her family, drinking chai lattes, and playing drums. Denise makes her home in Indiana, where she and her husband raised three boys and are now enjoying an empty nest and three beautiful grandchildren. Follow Denise at DeniseHunterBooks.com; Facebook: @AuthorDeniseHunter; X: @DeniseAHunter; Instagram: @deniseahunter.

Book preview

Love Between the Lines

© 2012 by Denise Hunter

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Thomas Nelson, Inc., books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [e-mail].

Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Secretly smitten / Colleen Coble ... [et al.].

      p. cm. -- (Smitten ; 2)

  ISBN 978-1-4016-8931-5 (trade paper)

  ISBN 978-1-4016-8928-5 (ebook)

1. Love stories. 2. Christian fiction. I. Coble, Colleen. Tess II.

Billerbeck, Kristin. Zoe III. Hunt, Diann. Anna IV. Hunter, Denise, 1968- Clare

  PS648.L6S44 2012

  813’.08508--dc23

2012036814

Printed in the United States of America

12 13 14 15 16 QG 5 4 3 2 1

CONTENTS

ontents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Reading Group Guide

Excerpt from A Cowboy's Touch

Author Bio

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CKNOWLEDGMENTS

What a joy it’s been to work on our second Smitten novel! The idea for Secretly Smitten was conceived in a beautiful Indiana log cabin (we pretended it was Vermont) and met with much enthusiasm by our wonderful editors.

As with every book, Secretly Smitten is the result of a lot of hard work done by many people. We are so blessed to work with Thomas Nelson. They’ve been supportive of the Smitten series right from the start, and their enthusiasm has been contagious. Thanks to the entire fiction team led by Publisher Daisy Hutton: Ami McConnell, Natalie Hanemann, Katie Bond, Kristen Vasgaard, Ruthie Dean, Laura Dickerson, Becky Monds, Kerri Potts, Jodi Hughes, and Amanda Bostic. Love you all!

A special thanks to our editors: Ami McConnell and LB Norton. Their expertise is truly astounding; we’re so glad you have our backs!

Our agents Karen Solem and Lee Hough have been a huge help with this work and many others. Thanks, friends!

We’re thankful for our families, our backbones, as we juggle life and career.

Thanks to you, our reader—none of this would happen without you! We hope you enjoyed coming along on our journey back to Smitten.

Our biggest thank-you goes to God, who brought the four of us together in a bond of unbreakable friendship. We’re all so different, and yet one, in our love for Christ and for one another.

CHAPTER ONE

NE

Clare Thomas smoothed out the hardwood mulch, spreading it under the newly planted hostas. Partridgeberry now carpeted her mother’s flower bed with green, but soon it would bloom with fragrant white flowers, and its red fruit would add a splash of color come fall.

The realization that it looked ten times better than it had three hours ago soothed her wounded spirit.

Anna Thomas dumped the last load of mulch from the wheelbarrow. That should do it. She blew her long bangs from her face, picked up the shovel, and spread the load with the vigor of someone half her age.

It looks beautiful, girls. Clare’s sister Tess set a tray of iced lemonade on the porch table. Her blue eyes were lit with a joy that only comes from new love.

Not that Clare knew anything about that.

Thank goodness we’re almost done. Her younger sister, Zoe, pulled off her pink garden gloves and appraised the sky. Looks like it’s about to rain.

Clare breathed in the scent of loamy dirt and rain, hoping the organic fragrance would relieve her unrest. Smells like it too.

God’s going to water my new plants, Anna said. Isn’t he thoughtful?

Oh yeah, all was coming up roses now that everyone was in love. Everyone but her. Clare chided herself for the selfish thought. She was happy for her sisters, thrilled for her mom. Still, they all had romance and candlelit dinners and kisses, and she had . . .

Plants.

She set down the rake and frowned at the garden. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined it. She was almost thirty, for pity’s sake. Where were her husband, her two-point-five children, her devoted golden retriever? Okay, so she had the dog part covered, but still.

She hadn’t even found love, much less a husband. Somehow her looming birthday hadn’t seemed so terrible when she’d had a relationship in the works. Now there was a countdown clock ticking toward an unavoidable deadline. Was she headed toward an Aunt Violet/Aunt Petunia future?

Her mom nudged her. What’s wrong, Miss Perfectionist? Did you miss a wilted leaf?

Clare began gathering the empty plant containers. I was thinking about Aunt Violet. Sort of true. I wonder if she and Grandma Rose are getting along. Gardening enthusiasts, the two older women helped out at the nursery during the busy spring and summer, mostly giving advice to customers.

I hope they’re not at each other’s throats, Anna said. I shouldn’t have pulled you away.

Hopefully they’re too busy to argue. Besides, I needed a break from all the tension. Clare intended to sit them down tomorrow and talk some sense into them. Their argument over Grandma’s old beau, who had also been her sister Violet’s secret crush, was getting old.

Some break. Tess sipped her lemonade. I hope Mr. Lewis finally gets you some help. You about worked yourself into the ground last year, literally.

I forgot to tell you, Clare said after downing half the lemonade. He said I could hire someone. I put up some notices around town. Just hope I can find time for the interviews and such. Memorial Day weekend is coming up, and after that it’s a zoo.

Zoe sat next to Tess on the porch step. Speaking of Memorial Day, can you ask Josh to bring his camping chairs?

Uh . . . Josh won’t be coming. Clare dumped the containers in the trash bin, mentally dumping the remnants of any feelings she’d had toward Josh. The memory of their date two nights ago still left a sour taste in her mouth.

Tell me you didn’t break up with him, Zoe said.

She supposed she deserved that. "He did, actually. She eyed Zoe just as her sister opened her mouth. And no, I do not need your help. That’s how I got into this mess to begin with, if you recall."

Zoe’s lips puckered in a rosy pout.

Oh no, Anna said. What happened, honey?

Clare shrugged. Nothing, Mom, really. We’re just too different, I guess. No chemistry, no spark. No interest, especially on his part.

Oh rats, Tess said. I thought you liked him.

Their breakup, if you could call it that, had nothing to do with the fact that he’d called her boring. Just remembering it made heat flood to the back of her neck where her hair was gathered in a loose braid. She couldn’t believe Josh Campbell, Mr. President of the high school chess team, had the nerve to call her boring.

Okay, so he hadn’t used that exact word, but she could read between the lines. She’d been raised in a female household. Reading between the lines was necessary for survival.

So she liked her routines. So she liked to look before she leaped. That was just smart, sensible. Not boring, Josh Campbell. You should learn the difference.

Clare rolled the wheelbarrow up the board and into the truck bed, then checked her watch.

Uh-oh. She’s going to be late for her tea run, Tess said.

Better hurry, Clare, Zoe said. Nat will faint dead away if you fail to appear at 7:17 on the dot.

Clare frowned at her sisters. What’s that supposed to mean?

Oh, honey, they’re only teasing, Anna said.

We like that you’re predictable, Tess said.

I’m not predictable.

Zoe grinned and flipped her dark hair from her eyes. Please. There’s a picture of you by the word on Wikipedia. I just saw it yesterday.

I go to the coffee shop at 7:17 because I get off work at 7:00. Besides, there’s no line then. It just makes sense.

And we love that you’re so sensible, dear. Her mom rubbed Clare’s rigid shoulders, but it failed to calm her. "It’s