Introduction

“Roberts proves again why she is the premier purveyor of small-town, feel-good romance.” —Booklist

USA TODAY bestselling author Sheila Roberts takes readers back to Moonlight Harbor with a story of music, hopes, dreams and family, brimming with Sheila’s trademark humor and heart.

Bonnie Brinks and her all-woman band, The Mermaids, are the pride of Moonlight Harbor. They’re the house band at The Drunken Sailor, and that’s just the right amount of fame for Bonnie. A lifetime ago, she went to Nashville to make it big, but she returned home with a broken heart and broken dreams. Now she’s got a comfortable life and a brilliant daughter, Avril, who plays for The Mermaids alongside Bonnie and Bonnie’s mother, Loretta.

Avril has big dreams of her own. Her life in Moonlight Harbor is good—she loves singing and playing guitar with The Mermaids, and she has the sweetest, most loyal boyfriend a girl could ask for—but it all feels so…small. She can’t help wondering if there’s something more out there for her. And she doesn’t understand why her mom won’t support her going to Nashville to find out.

Meanwhile, Bonnie threw in the towel on her love life long ago, but Loretta sure hasn’t. She’s determined to be swept off her feet, and she wants the same for her daughter. When the hunky new owner of The Drunken Sailor turns the tables on the band and Avril announces she’s leaving Moonlight Harbor, Bonnie’s comfortable life seems to be drifting away. Will these three generations of Mermaids find their happy endings on the Washington coast? Or will the change in the winds leave them all shipwrecked?

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Excerpt

“You should see how amazing it looks down here,” Gina said as she and Avril talked on the phone. “Everything is lit up for Christmas.”

Avril had to squash the jealous bug by reminding herself that Moonlight Harbor was lit up, too. The upcoming weekend would be the Seaside with Santa festival, and that was something Nashville didn’t have.

Seaside with Santa was a fairly new celebration on the town’s festival roster, and people had embraced it in spite of its bumpy beginning, having first taken place during a major storm that left both townspeople and visitors out of power for days. Ever since though, it had been good

weather, and the convention center Jenna Waters had been pushing for was about to be built, so soon much of the celebrating would be taking place under cover. Meanwhile, though, every store window twinkled with colored lights, and every restaurant was decked out with wreaths, while

their lobbies housed trees decorated with shells and painted sand dollars.

“We’ve got Seaside with Santa this weekend,” Avril said.

“I am going to miss that,” Gina admitted. “Remember that awful first parade? Oh, my gosh, all that rain and wind and pieces getting blown right off the floats.”

“You got hit in the head with a plastic flower,” Avril reminded her and had to laugh.

They’d gone back to Avril’s house after the parade and had been partying with friends when the lights went out. They’d wound up stumbling around by the light of their phones and looking for candles. It had been an adventure. They’d roasted marshmallows in her mom’s fireplace and made s’mores from the graham crackers and chocolate bars Mom had in the pantry, leftover from their Labor Day party. A lot of people in town had been freaking out, but Mom had taken it all in stride, letting everyone sleep on the floor with blankets and sofa pillows and keeping them fed with trail mix and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and bottled juice. One of many happy memories of Avril’s life in Moonlight Harbor.

There were others—Fourth of July celebrations, end of school parties on the deck, graduation parties, flying kites at the beach, the first gig they ever played as a band. Not to mention crabbing with Kenny, going out on his boat, beachcombing and buying saltwater taffy at Cindy’s Candies.

She sighed inwardly. She had to get to Nashville. Something inside her akin to a forty-five-knot gale was pushing her south. And yet sometimes it felt like something else deep inside her was begging, Don’t leave. But there came a time when you had to move on. Her time had come.

She talked more with Gina about all the great things they were going to do together once she hit Nashville until Gina had to go. “Going to The Bluebird tonight,” Gina said. It sounded a little like bragging and made Avril frown.

“That’s okay. I gotta go, too. I’ve got my critique group.” And one of them lived in Nashville…which was sort of like Six Degrees of Blake Shelton. She was almost there.

There in spirit.

Not really there. Soon, said that strong driving force, so get to work.

When the group met, Sarah, as always, had something to show. Avril envied the confidence with which she sang.

“That’s a hit,” she said when Sarah had finished.

“I hope so,” Sarah said. “What have you got?”

“I think I’ve got the beginnings of something good,” Avril said.

“Let’s hear it,” said Colton.

Avril’s heart rate always picked up when she had to share with these two a song she’d written. It was never easy putting her brain baby out there. What if they thought Baby was ugly?

Then they’d help her make Baby pretty. That was what critique groups were for. If she wasn’t tough enough to take criticism from these guys, she’d never survive the tough world of the music business.

She picked up her guitar and began to sing. “When you run out of love what do you do? That’s where we are, and I’m stuck here with you. You don’t give a damn, I don’t give a shit. Looks like we’re done. We’re at the end of the road. This is it.” She stopped singing. “That’s what I’ve

got so far.”

“Great hook,” Colton said. “I like it.”

“Me, too,” said Sarah.

“Can you say shit in a song?” Avril wondered.

“You can say damn so I don’t see why not,” said Sarah.

“You got a second verse?” Colton asked.

“Not yet.” But she would before the night was over. Their encouragement was great inspiration.

“I can work on it with you,” Colton offered.

Colton was always suggesting writing together with them. Avril knew in Nashville everybody wrote songs together, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. She liked having total control over her songs, so she never jumped on the offer. Neither did Sarah.

Colton hadn’t had much to show lately, and she wondered if he’d hit a dry spot and was hoping to get the creative juices flowing by co-writing. Sometimes it was easier to get a creative spark going when you were bouncing ideas off another person. But that was what they were doing with

this group. If this wasn’t working for him, he was in trouble.

“How about you, Colt?” Sarah asked. “You got anything?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Nothing much. Been too busy.”

A songwriter too busy to write songs? Impossible. Yep, definitely a dry period. Or else he was suffering from a case of self-doubt. Songwriters had a way of aborting their own work, deciding before even giving a song idea a chance that it wasn’t good enough to develop.

“I got some ideas though,” he added.

“Well, let’s hear ’em,” said Sarah.

“Next week,” he said.

“You’re in a slump,” Sarah pointed out, pretty much saying what Avril had been thinking.

“I’m still looking for a great hook,” Colton said. “Avril, save me. Give me an idea.”

“Go lookin’,” she said.

“Hmm. Maybe I could do something with that.”

She laughed. “I didn’t mean it as a hook, I meant it as advice.”

He gave a snort. “Good either way.”

“I have one more, guys. You got time to listen?” Avril asked.

“Sure,” he said, speaking for Sarah as well. “Hit me, dealer.”

She sang what she had, trying to sound confident. “I need to leave, but I can’t go. You’ve nailed me down with guilt. You drove those nails right through my soul…” She stopped. “I can’t think of a rhyme for guilt.”

“How about still?” Colton suggested. “It’s a near rhyme. Look at me, I’m here still.”

“I like that,” Avril said.

“Any real-life inspiration for this?” Sarah asked. “Is your boyfriend making you feel guilty about moving to Nashville?” Sarah pressed.

“Not really. He’s great.” Except she knew, even though Kenny was being supportive, he really didn’t want her to leave.

“You got a good start,” said Colton. “It hits me in the gut.”

“Good,” she said. Because it had hit her in the gut when she was writing it.

Kenny came over later and they made popcorn and watched an episode of Wolf Like Me, then got all clingy and cozy on the couch, Kenny heating her up in all the right places.

“I hate having to leave,” he said later. “Wish we lived together.”

“I know,” she said, and she knew what he meant by that. He’d hinted around several times about getting married, having a family, but she wasn’t ready.

“Wish you weren’t leaving this summer,” he added.

Guilt. There it was, the inspiration for her song.

He held up a hand before she could say anything. “I know, you gotta go. I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes stupid just pops out of my mouth.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “It’s not stupid to want to be together.”

“I can wait,” he said. “I really can. It would be wrong to hold you back, like trying to keep the sun from rising. Or trying to catch a mermaid,” he added with a sad smile.

“You already caught one,” she assured him.

“Yeah, but I need to quit trying to keep her in the boat,” he said. He gave Avril a final kiss. “I got an early morning tomorrow. I’d better get home.”

She watched as he climbed into his truck and drove off. She did love Kenny. Would Nashville kill that love?

Two weeks after his Thanksgiving visit, Seaside with Santa was in full swing, and J.J. was back for it. He wandered about the town on Saturday, observing the swarms of visitors drifting from shop to shop, checked out the heavy traffic, and the good business all the restaurants were doing.

Moonlight Harbor had succeeded in turning itself into a tourist destination.

Tourism, always good for business, he thought as he sat at a corner table in The Drunken Sailor with Lee and his wife, enjoying burgers and clam chowder. It was certainly good for this particular business, and J.J. found himself wishing he’d followed his instincts and bought the place.

The pub was as festive as any other restaurant in town, with a large wreath on the door, wreaths hanging in the windows, and the carved pirates all sporting Santa hats instead of their usual tricorns. The wooden women also wore blinking Christmas light necklaces to accent their wooden cleavage. Patrons showed up sporting red shirts and tops and Santa hats.

J.J. had passed on Lee’s offer of a hat. “You’re gonna stick out like a Christmas sore thumb,” Lee had predicted.

“I’ll take my chances,” J.J. had replied.

But his friend was right. He looked like the lone party pooper in his white button-down shirt and jeans and loafers.

“People get into the holidays down here,” Lee said. “Wait till you see it on the Fourth. It’s a madhouse.”

“The place has grown like crazy since we first moved down. Investing in real estate is the second smartest thing you can do,” said Glinda.

“Yeah? What’s the first smartest?” J.J. asked.

“Buying this place,” she said with a wink.

One of her friends stopped by to chat with her, and while she was distracted Lee lowered his voice. “Never mind Glinda. She wants out as of yesterday.”

“I thought you had a buyer,” said J.J.

Lee shook his head, took a swig of his beer. “Pulled out just a couple of days ago. Realized he couldn’t swing the financing.”

J.J. could. He took a thoughtful draw on his own beer, followed by an onion ring. Lee’s cook knew how to make a memorable onion ring, for sure. Good food, some great micro beers, a friendly, Cheers-style atmosphere—the place was a great business opportunity knocking. Maybe

there was a reason Lee’s deal had fallen through. Opportunity was knocking on J.J.’s door. Maybe it wouldn’t knock a third time.

The Mermaids entered the pub, and several people called out hellos. He watched as the talented redhead waved to several. Her daughter had the same behemoth of a boyfriend with her, and Grandma was looking good with some kind of faux fur jacket over her black leather pants and boots. He followed their progress to the bandstand, watched them set down their instruments, then go shed their coats, draping them on their chairs at the same table they’d staked out

last time he’d been in the pub. The older woman went to the bar to fetch a drink while the other two started tuning up. An old dude with a beer belly sidled up to the bandstand and started talking to Bonnie. She gave him a tolerant smile, shook her head and nodded to a table near the dance floor that had been staked out by a couple of middle-aged women. The guy said something. Bonnie smiled, said something back to him, and he frowned and walked away.

Lee had been watching J.J. watch her. “She gets that a lot.”

“What?” J.J. asked, playing innocent.

“Men hitting on her. Old ones, young ones, fat ones, skinny ones. They throw out their best lines, but it never works.”

J.J. picked up an onion ring, studied it casually. “You trying to tell me something?”

“I’m telling you you’ll never get anywhere with Bonnie Brinks.”

“Bonnie’s great,” said Glinda. “I think she’s just waiting for the right man.”

J.J. smiled, toasted her wisdom with his glass of beer. There you had it. The right man had arrived. Bonnie the mermaid just didn’t know it yet.

The tables around the dance floor filled up quickly, and by the time the band was ready to start playing every seat was taken. J.J. mentally kicked himself for not staking out one of those tables earlier. Not that he couldn’t hear or see from where he was, but he preferred the idea of watching

Bonnie Brinks in action close up. With her red hair and fair coloring she could have been a descendant of Aine, queen of the Irish fairies. The shiny green top she was wearing accented her coloring and allowed a playful hint at her curves. And that voice of hers, he could listen to her sing all night. In fact, he intended to.

The first set’s playlist was including many Christmas favorites such as “White Christmas,” “Santa’s Flying a 747 Tonight” and “Santa Baby.” He sat mesmerized as the fascinating redhead went on to the next song and crooned, “You could really make Christmas for me. Put your heart

under my tree.”

He was willing to bet a lot of men had tried to do just that. What was her story?

Whatever it was, she didn’t want to share. Lee had invited her to join them, which she did. She said a brief hello to J.J., then turned her attention to Lee and Glinda. She told Glinda she liked her necklace, asked Lee how he was enjoying the holiday playlist.

“It’s great,” Lee said.

J.J. listened, looking for an opportunity to join—okay, take over—the conversation.

He jumped in with, “Great job on ‘Santa, Baby.’ What would you ask Santa for, Mermaid?”

“Nothing. I have everything I need,” she said lightly.

“You should still go see the old guy and have a talk,” said J.J. “There might be something you need that you don’t even know you need.” Like me.

“Santa’s got his lap full just seeing all those kids.”

“Yeah, but I’m his pinch hitter,” J.J. cracked. “There’s plenty of room on my lap for a mermaid.”

She frowned. But her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. As far as J.J. was concerned it was a chink in the old mermaid armor. She was into him. She just wasn’t ready to admit it.

He decided to switch into serious mode before she could bring out the stop sign smile and leave. “That one song you played, the one about putting your heart under the tree. It’s great. Did you write it?”

“No, a friend of my mom’s did years ago. It got a cut on a Christmas in the Northwest album, which was a big deal back then. Another friend of Mom’s named Pam Cramer sang it.”

It was the first real exchange they’d had since he met her. “A nice sentiment,” he said, trying to keep the conversation going. “I guess a lot of people are hoping for that this year.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of response that remark was supposed to generate, but all J.J. got, along with the old stop sign, was an unrevealing, “I suppose so,” followed by, “I’d

better get back to work.”

“Nice try, dude,” Lee teased as she threaded her way through the tables. “I guess the old Walker charm doesn’t work on everyone.”

J.J. gave him the finger and helped himself to another onion ring.

“Don’t give up,” advised Glinda.

“Don’t listen to her,” said Lee. “There’s plenty of other mermaids in the sea.”

Yes, there were, but J.J. would be willing to bet that none of them measured up to this one.

Oh, well. Did he really want to complicate his life with a woman?

Well, yeah. He wasn’t cut out to be a monk.

“You’ll see a lot more of her if you buy this place,” Glinda said, only half teasing.

“Hey, now, we’re just here to have a good time,” Lee said to her.

So was half the town. J.J. knew the price his pal was asking was reasonable. Knock, knock, whispered Opportunity. Last call.

“Let’s go over your financials tomorrow,” he said to Lee. “I think I want to own a pub.”

Glinda let out a squeal. “Free at last!”

“You just saved my marriage, buddy,” said Lee. “By spring we’ll be in Hawaii, second hornymooning.”

J.J. chuckled. “Go for it, you two. If everything looks as solid on paper as it does here we’ll have a deal. And don’t worry,” he said to Glinda. “I won’t have any trouble coming up with the money.”

“Bless you.” She raised her glass to him. “Here’s to a new era for all of us,” she said, and they all clinked glasses.

A new era. He was ready for that. More than ready.

“Who was that sitting with Lee and Glinda?” Loretta asked Bonnie as she strapped her guitar back on.

“Just some friend of theirs,” Bonnie said.

“Pretty good-looking friend,” offered Loretta.

“Want me to introduce you?” Bonnie teased.

Loretta frowned and pointed a drumstick at her. “Don’t get smart.”

Bonnie just chuckled, then started them on their next song, a Christmas one she’d written that was great for dancing the West Coast swing, titled, “Jingle My Bells.”

J.J. Walker had jingled her bells. The man practically oozed pheromones. It was unnerving the way simply sitting next to him made her want to plop on his lap and do all kinds of things that would put her on Santa’s naughty list. The last man who’d had that strong an effect on her was the first man to break her trust in love. One trip down that jagged road was more than enough. She wasn’t going to take another, no matter how many pheromones this man shot at her. She sure hoped he wasn’t going to be a regular visitor. He needed to get gone…far away from Moonlight Harbor. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

This book has two settings, one at the beach in the fictitious beach town of Moonlight Harbor and the other in Nashville, TN. Which setting did you prefer?

Bonnie Brinks has a chunk of bitterness regarding past experiences that she’s buried. We see this popping up and affecting her self-confidence and making her fearful for her daughter. Can you think of past issues in your life that still affect your decisions?

Bonnie’s band with her mother and daughter, The Mermaids, are a big hit in their small town. Would you rather be a big fish in a small pond like Moonlight Harbor or a small fish in a big pond like Nashville?

Do you think Loretta was gullible or her lover “Marlon” was extremely clever. Have you known anyone who was taken in by a sweetheart scam? What advice would you have given Loretta?

Loretta refuses to give up on love and eventually finds her perfect man. Do you believe there is a perfect someone out there for everyone?

Do you think Avril was justified in being angry with her mom when she learned Bonnie knew all along who Avril’s father was? How would you have handled the situation if you were in Bonnie’s cowgirl boots?

Did Avril make the right choice returning to Moonlight Harbor?

The story of the tomato is based on a true story regarding Martina McBride’s reaction to a statement that revealed gender inequality in country music. (See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomato-gate for that statement.--See link section below) Do you still see instances of gender inequality? Where?

This book deals with hopes and dreams—seeing some crushed, seeing some come true. Have you had a dream you had to let go of? Are there dreams you’ve been able to make come true in your own life?

What lyric in the book would you like to see turned into a song?

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»	true story regarding Martina McBride’s reaction to a statement that revealed gender inequality in country music

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