#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods sweeps readers away with the story of a beloved member of the O’Brien family as she claims the life she’s always dreamed of

Spirited, spontaneous Carrie Winters has grown up under the watchful eyes of not only her grandfather Mick O’Brien, but the entire town of Chesapeake Shores.

Now that she’s home from Europe, a glamorous fashion career behind her and her heart broken, there seem to be far too many people watching to see if she’ll live up to the expectations her family has for her.

As if that weren’t enough pressure, Carrie finds herself drawn to sexy, grief-stricken Sam Winslow, who is yearning for someone to help him raise the nephew who’s unexpectedly come into his life after a tragedy.

With her own life in turmoil, is Carrie really ready to take on a new career and a new man? Or is Sam exactly what she needs to create the strong, loving family she’s always wanted?

Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods

“Sherryl Woods writes emotionally satisfying novels about family, friendship and home. Truly feel-great reads!”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Launching the Chesapeake Shores series, Woods creates an engrossing…family drama.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Inn at Eagle Point

“Sparks fly in a lively tale that is overflowing with family conflict and warmth and the possibility of rekindled love.”

—Library Journal on Flowers on Main

“Warm, complex, and satisfying.”

—Library Journal on Harbor Lights

“Sure to satisfy.”

—Publishers Weekly on A Chesapeake Shores Christmas

“Woods’s amazing grasp of human nature and the emotions that lie deep within us make this story universal…this latest novel in the Chesapeake Shores series does not disappoint.”

—RT Book Reviews on Driftwood Cottage

“Once again, Woods, with such authenticity, weaves a tale of true love and the challenges that can knock up against that love.”

—RT Book Reviews on Beach Lane

“Engaging and satisfying… A sweet, affecting holiday-themed read.”

—Kirkus Reviews on A Seaside Christmas

Also by #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods

Chesapeake Shores

Dogwood Hill

The Christmas Bouquet

A Seaside Christmas

The Summer Garden

An O’Brien Family Christmas

Beach Lane

Moonlight Cove

Driftwood Cottage

A Chesapeake Shores Christmas

Harbor Lights

Flowers on Main

The Inn at Eagle Point

The Sweet Magnolias

Swan Point

Where Azaleas Bloom

Catching Fireflies

Midnight Promises

Honeysuckle Summer

Sweet Tea at Sunrise

Home in Carolina

Welcome to Serenity

Feels Like Family

A Slice of Heaven

Stealing Home

The Devaney Brothers

The Devaney Brothers: Daniel

The Devaney Brothers:

Michael and Patrick

The Devaney Brothers:

Ryan and Sean

Ocean Breeze

Sea Glass Island

Wind Chime Point

Sand Castle Bay

Rose Cottage Sisters

Return to Rose Cottage

Home at Rose Cottage

Trinity Harbor

Along Came Trouble

Ask Anyone

About That Man

For a complete list of all titles by Sherryl Woods,

visit www.sherrylwoods.com.

Look for #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods’s

The Christmas Bouquet

available soon in paperback from MIRA Books

Willow Brook Road

Sherryl Woods

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Friends,

I usually use this space to give you a little background on the story you’re about to read. This time I hope you’ll indulge me as I thank some folks who’ve made it possible for me to write the many, many books you’ve read through the years.

Almost from the very beginning I have worked with the very savvy Denise Marcil, whose dedication as my agent has made her an incredible business partner. She had faith when mine flagged and a calming influence when I was on the edge of some writing cliff. No one could have worked harder or made this long career as much fun.

I’ve been blessed with so many fabulous editors through the years as well, women who’ve gently nudged me to create better and better stories. Lucia Macro started my career with Silhouette way back in the ’80s. Joan Golan guided me through literally dozens of books. Now I have the absolute pleasure of working with Margaret O’Neill Marbury for the second time. I’m a better writer because of them and too many others to name (there have been 140-plus books, after all).

Once a book is polished to perfection—or as near to that as we ever get—it’s in the hands of the publisher and sales team. I’ve worked with several, but no sales force could be more determined or enthusiastic than the men and women at Mira. Getting these books where you can find them is a tough job, and they’re the very best at it. They have my undying gratitude!

There are dozens of others I’d like to thank, including family and friends, but I’ll use this last little bit of space to thank you! Your emails and letters mean the world to me. And I’ve always tried to keep you in mind with every page I write. Bless you for the support and love you’ve shown.

All best as always,

Sherryl

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Booklist

Title Page

Dear Reader

Epilogue

Extract

The original Mick O’Brien–designed cottage on Willow Brook Road had been built with weathered gray shingles, white trim and a tiny back porch barely big enough for two rockers side by side. They faced Willow Brook, which fed into the Chesapeake Bay. The backyard sloped gently to the brook, with the graceful branches of a trademark weeping willow touching the lawn at the water’s edge. The peaceful setting was just right for quiet conversation or relaxing with a good book.

In front the cottage featured a small yard with an actual white picket fence and a climbing yellow rosebush that tumbled over it with a profusion of fragrant blooms. Bright red and hot-pink geraniums filled pots on the stoop in a vibrant display of clashing colors. The property oozed picturesque charm.

With three cozy bedrooms and a fireplace in the living room and a surprisingly large eat-in kitchen, it was the perfect Chesapeake Shores vacation getaway or a starter home for a small family, but Carrie Winters had been living there alone and at loose ends for almost six months now. The only personal touch she’d added beyond the mismatched furniture she’d acquired from various family attics was the portrait of the whole O’Brien family taken at the Christmas wedding of her twin, Caitlyn.

These days, sitting in one of those rockers for more than a minute or two made her antsy. After two years in a pressure-cooker public relations job at which she’d excelled, being idle was a new experience, and one she didn’t particularly like. She was too distracted for reading anything deeper than the local weekly newspaper. And though she loved to cook, making fancy meals for one person just left her feeling lonely.

Worst of all, she seemed incapable of motivating herself to get out of this funk she’d been in ever since coming home. Chesapeake Shores might be where she wanted—or even needed—to be as she tried to piece her life back together and reevaluate her priorities, but it had created its own sort of pressure.

While the rest of the O’Brien clan was unmistakably worried about her, her grandfather Mick was bordering on frantic. O’Briens did not waste time or wallow in self-pity, which was exactly what Carrie had been doing ever since the breakup of her last relationship. Timed to coincide with the crash-and-burn demolition of her career in the fashion industry, the combination had sent her fleeing from Paris and straight back to her loving family.

Carrie sighed and took a first sip of the one glass of wine she allowed herself at the end of the day. Wallowing was one thing. Getting tipsy all alone was something else entirely. Even she was wise enough to see that.

An image of Marc Reynolds, the fashion-world icon she’d thought she loved, crept into her head, as it did about a hundred times a day. That was down from about a million when she’d first flown home from Europe after the breakup. If it could even be called that, she thought wryly. Truthfully, she’d finally realized that Marc thought of her more as a convenient bed partner and workhorse whose public relations efforts for his fashion empire had helped to put it on the fast track to international acclaim. Unbeknownst to her, his heart apparently belonged to a she-devil, self-absorbed model who treated him like dirt. Carrie could relate, since Marc had pretty much done the same to her. She was still struggling to understand how her judgment could possibly have been so clouded that she hadn’t seen that sooner. Surely the signs had been there. Had she been so besotted she’d missed them? If so, how could she possibly trust her instincts about a man again?

Not that she was going to let that be an issue anytime soon. She was swearing off the male of the species until she figured out who she was and what she truly wanted. At the rate she was progressing on that front, it could take years.

Enough! she told herself firmly, carrying her almost-full glass inside and stepping over a scattering of toys as she went. She smiled as she picked up a floppy-eared bunny and set it gently in a chair. A stack of children’s picture books sat on a nearby table.

Taking care of her twin sister’s little boy, Jackson McIlroy, was about the only thing that gave her a sense of fulfillment these days. With Caitlyn serving a medical internship at Johns Hopkins, and Caitlyn’s husband, Noah, running an increasingly busy family medicine practice here in town, Carrie had volunteered for day-care duty whenever they needed her. More and more often they’d come to rely on her, which suited her just fine, but seemed to be making everyone else in her driven family a little crazy. Babysitting wasn’t considered a suitable career goal for the granddaughter of the town’s founder.

She picked up a few more toys, put them in the brightly colored toy box she’d painted herself one particularly dreary winter day, then grabbed her purse and walked into town. Ten minutes later she was at O’Brien’s, the Irish pub her second cousin Luke had opened a few years back. She knew she’d find a good meal there, even if it came with a serving of family meddling from whichever O’Brien happened to be around.

When she walked in the door, she was startled to find it mostly empty.

“Hey, Carrie,” Luke said, automatically pouring a glass of white wine for her.

“Where is everybody?” she asked, as she settled on a stool in front of the magnificent old bar that Luke had found in Ireland and shipped home to be the centerpiece of his pub.

“It’s barely five o’clock,” he pointed out. “We’ll be filling up soon.”

Carrie glanced at her watch and groaned. Today—a day without the baby to watch—had been endless. Apparently it wasn’t close to being over, either.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said, as Luke polished glassware and readied the bar for this evening’s business.

He studied her face for a moment, then came around the bar and sat down beside her, giving her his full attention. “What’s on your mind?”

“You were the youngest in my mom’s generation, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” he confirmed.

“Did you feel pressured to accomplish something?”

He laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said seriously.

“You know all this, but let me remind you. By the time I finished college, your mom was a financial success story on Wall Street. Kevin had served in the military, then jumped onto the bandwagon to preserve the bay with Uncle Thomas. Connor was a hotshot divorce lawyer in Baltimore. Bree had opened a successful flower shop, then a local theater, where she’s now writing and directing to critical acclaim. And Jess was barely into her twenties and already turning the Inn at Eagle Point into a successful regional destination.”

He allowed that to sink in, then added, “That’s what I was up against. On top of that, my brother started working with Uncle Mick as an architect straight out of college, and my sister is all but running the real estate business here in town with my dad. O’Briens seemed to know what they wanted in the womb, all of them except me.”

“And me,” Carrie lamented. “Funny how you were the youngest and felt lost. Cait and I are the oldest in our generation. She recognized her destiny even before she got out of high school. She’s determined to be a doctor and save the world. Not even marriage and a baby have derailed her plans.”

Luke grinned. “And your goals aren’t that lofty?”

“I’m not sure I even have goals,” she admitted. “I thought I did. I enjoyed PR work well enough. I was good at it, too. And I liked being in the fashion industry, but that was more about being with Marc than the work. It didn’t break my heart when another job in fashion didn’t materialize right away. Working with him is what I miss most, so that must be telling me something.”

Luke studied her with a commiserating look. “Have you figured out the message?”

She shrugged. “Nope. All I know is that I hate being at loose ends.”

“What about that trip you took with Uncle Mick to Africa? Any inspiration there?”

Her grandparents had gone to Africa to check out several villages in dire need of medical help, especially since the outbreak of Ebola had had such a devastating impact. Mick had been drafted by Cait and a doctor in Baltimore into designing small medical facilities for the villages to provide the care they so desperately needed. It had been an eye-opening trip with an idealistic mission she admired.

“Sure. It made me realize how lucky we’ve all been. I’ve donated a ton of money from my trust fund to the cause because I’ve seen firsthand how worthwhile it is, but I don’t want to return, not the way Cait’s chomping at the bit to go. She was so envious that I got to go with Grandpa Mick and Grandma Megan. Me?” She shook her head. “I could hardly wait to get back home.”

“The States?”

“Not just the States, but here, back in Chesapeake Shores. I thought once I got here everything would magically become clear to me.”

Luke gave her a long, considering look. “Have you thought about staying here, Carrie? Really thought about it? I always knew this town was right for me. It was just about the only thing I did know, but you’ve lived in a lot of exciting cities—New York, Milan, Paris. Are you absolutely certain Chesapeake Shores is big enough for you?”

She frowned at the question, which seemed to suggest a shallowness she didn’t appreciate. She didn’t need glitz and glamour. She really didn’t. She’d had a taste of it. That had been enough.

“What do you mean?” she challenged. “This is home for me, Luke, the same as it is for you.”

“If you say so,” he said, his doubts still evident.

“I do say so.”

“You were born in New York,” he reminded her. “You went to college there, too, and traveled all over the world when you were working in fashion. I’ve only been to Ireland, where things were pretty laid-back, especially in the smaller villages, but I imagine the lifestyle here is very different from the glamorous places you’ve seen in France and Italy. It’s definitely a world away from the hustle and bustle of New York.”

Though her instinct was to counter Luke’s obvious skepticism with complete certainty, she took a sip of her wine and actually gave the question some thought.

“It is different, but in a good way,” she replied slowly, trying to put her gut feelings into words. “The pace is slower. The values are different. Family really counts for something. Mom saw that. She left New York and brought me and Caitlyn back here.”

“Because she was in love with Trace,” Luke said.

Carrie sighed. “Yes, Trace did play a big part in her decision, but she’s been happy being home. She’d tell you that. She’s figured out how to balance the career she loves and the family she loves even more.”

“Balance is important,” Luke agreed, then gave her another of his annoying long looks. “What do you envision doing with your life here? I know the ambition gene can’t possibly have skipped over you completely. All O’Briens have it.”

“Not me,” she admitted as if it were a crime. Luke was right about one thing—O’Briens were expected to be excellent multitaskers, and, despite her last name being Winters, she was an O’Brien through and through. Luke had brought the conversation full circle, right back to those goals that seemed to be eluding her. She’d been so blasted lucky her entire life. What right did she have to complain about an unexpected bump in the road?

“All I ever really wanted was to be a wife and mom,” she told her cousin. She made the admission in a hushed voice, as if it were some sort of crime to want so little for herself.

When Luke didn’t react as if she were crazy, she continued, “Gram was my role model. Nell made a real home for Mom and her siblings after Grandpa Mick and Grandma Megan split up. I always saw myself doing that same thing—cooking, baking, nurturing my kids—right here, surrounded by family. All through college I kept expecting to meet someone and fall in love. I practically made a career out of dating. I thought for sure I’d get a marriage license fifteen minutes after I picked up my diploma.”

She sighed again. “That was the plan, but it never happened. Then I met Marc and thought he was the one. Of course, he was the last man on earth who’d ever be happy in a small town, so I have no idea how I expected him to fit into my dream.”

“Ever heard of compromise?” Luke asked with a smile.

“From Marc? Not likely.”

“How about you?”

“For the right man, sure,” she said glibly, then wondered. “Okay, you’re right. I can’t settle. It would never work. I want what Mom and Trace have, what Bree has with Jake and Grandpa Mick has found with Grandma Megan now that they’re back together. I want the whole happily-ever-after thing.”

“So you can’t settle and you claim you don’t care about a career,” Luke summed up. “You have yourself a real dilemma.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to tell you?” she said in frustration.

“Maybe you need to focus, pick the area of your life that matters the most to you, the one over which you have some control.”

She smiled at that. O’Briens did love to control things. Her grandfather was a master at that and he’d instilled that stubborn, we’re-capable-of-anything streak in all of them.

“We’ve already concluded that I can’t control when or if the right man might come along, and I have no career goals, at least not the kind I’m passionate about,” she reminded him yet again.

“I think you’re making this too complicated,” Luke suggested. “Stop fretting about a career, if that’s not what you care about. Put it on the back burner. Get out there and start dating. There are single men in here every night of the week. I’ll fix you up. When was the last time you went on a date? The path to marriage generally starts with a first date.”

“So I’ve heard,” she said, though random dating didn’t appeal to her. She’d done that all through college to no avail. Besides, she’d sworn off men until she figured out how she’d been so wrong about Marc, how she’d misjudged his values and his feelings.

But Luke was right about one thing. She did need some sort of social life before she went completely stir-crazy. “How about this? I don’t want to be fixed up, but the next time I’m in here, if there’s a nice guy around, introduce us. Women and men can be friends, right? That’s not a bad starting point.”

“I have my doubts about men and women being pals, but it’s definitely a start,” Luke said. “I predict you’ll be married in no time, with a half dozen kids underfoot.”

As alluring as that image was, Carrie could see the downside. “Can you picture what Grandpa Mick will have to say about that? He loves all his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but he expects more from us.”

“Forget your grandfather. This is about what you want. You know Nell will be on your side.”

Carrie smiled. “Sure she will, but she’ll be standing there all alone. Grandpa Mick will be horrified. So will just about everyone else. Even Mom and Trace will think I’m wasting my potential.”

“This is about you, though,” Luke argued. “And about what will make you happy. When it comes down to it, I think that’s what they truly want for all of us. As appalled as my dad was by the idea of this pub, he got on board when he saw how much it meant to me. Treat the whole marriage thing as if it were a job hunt. Interview applicants on a daily basis.”

Carrie gave him a chiding look. “You say that as if it’s perfectly simple to pluck the perfect man out of thin air or to identify him by getting him to answer a list of questions. Trust me, it’s not. Besides, where’s the magic in that?”

Her cousin chuckled. “Ah, so you want the magic, too?”

“Of course. And until I find it, I can’t very well sit around and do nothing. I still need a goal. Being idle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not suited for that, either.”

Luke’s expression turned thoughtful. While he pondered whatever he was pondering, Carrie sipped her wine.

“You’re babysitting for half the kids in the family, aren’t you?” he said eventually.

“Yes, but what’s your point? That’s not exactly a job.”

He gave her a long look. “Make it one.”

She frowned at the seemingly offhand suggestion, though it was evident Luke was warming to the idea. “What do you mean?” she pressed.

“You love kids. You don’t have any of your own on the immediate horizon.” He stared at her as if willing her to reach the same conclusion he had. When she remained silent, he added with a touch of impatience, “Consider opening a day care.”

Carrie immediately waved off the idea. “Come on, Luke. I can’t charge family for keeping an eye on their kids.”

“Why not? If you weren’t around, they’d be paying somebody else. I certainly charge them for their pints of ale when they come in here.”

“Not the same thing,” she insisted. “This is a business. We all understand that.”

He laughed. “And the day care could be your business,” he said. “Just something to think about. The town could use one. Moira was saying that to me not twenty-four hours ago. She said if we’re ever going to have kids, given our busy schedules and her traveling with her photography exhibits, we’ll need someone we trust to care for them. She flatly refuses to put a playpen in the corner and see our child raised in a bar.”

Carrie could just imagine Moira making that point very clear. From her very first introduction to the O’Briens in her native Ireland, Moira had never hesitated to express an opinion. It had earned her the nickname of Maddening Moira, until Luke had pleaded with all of them to drop it.

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