The Mighty Quinns: Ronan - Softcover

Hoffmann, Kate

3.61

38 ratings by Goodreads

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0373797230 ISBN 13: 9780373797233

Publisher: Harlequin Blaze, 2012

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He didn't stand a chance...

There's a curse in Sibleyville, Maine. Thanks to a long-ago feud between the Sibleys and the Quinns, residents are destined never to find lasting love together. Unfortunately, when Ronan Quinn steps off the bus in Sibleyville, he has no idea what he's stepped in...until the very sexy Charlotte Sibley gives him a job, a room and the scoop on her family's 200-year-old curse!

Still, there's a feverish attraction heating up between Ronan and Charlotte. And with Ronan leaving in six weeks, they'll make every second—and every night—count! But now, convinced that a Sibley-Quinn marriage could finally end the curse, everyone in town is suddenly a matchmaker.

But do Ronan and Charlotte really want to turn this Fun Little Fling into a Forever?

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About the Author:

Kate Hoffmann has written over 70 books for Harlequin, most of them for the Temptation and the Blaze lines. She spent time as a music teacher, a retail assistant buyer, and an advertising exec before she settled into a career as a full-time writer. She continues to pursue her interests in music, theatre and musical theatre, working with local schools in various productions. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat Chloe.

The sun rose as the bus rolled across the state line from New Hampshire into Maine. After four days on the road, crossing the country accompanied by complete strangers, eating at roadside diners and truck stops and sleeping in fits and starts, Ronan was ready to reach his destination.

The sunrise had become an important event for him, something he looked forward to when there was little else to mark the passing time. But now that they'd reached the Atlantic coast, he saw a completely different sunrise, a blaze of color over the blue ocean.

Like Seattle, the passing landscape was dominated by the sea and Ronan felt a hint of familiarity in such a strange, new place. The villages along the route were populated with white clapboard buildings and red brick churches, towering hardwood trees and tidy town squares, and harbors filled with bobbing sailboats.

"Thanks, Grandda," he murmured to himself. He couldn't imagine that his brothers' destinations in New Mexico, Kentucky and Wisconsin came close to the natural beauty he was seeing here.

The bus ride really hadn't been that bad. As a kid, he'd spent a lot of time alone, riding his bike around the neighborhood or mastering tricks on his skateboard. As he grew older, he'd hiked and climbed and camped, he'd taught himself to ski and snowboard, but always alone, finding comfort in the quiet of a silent mountain-top or a lush forest.

His fondness for solitude had made him a bit of a black sheep in a family of brothers who were impossibly close. Ronan had just never found a proper place for himself. His oldest brother, Cameron, was the responsible one, charged with holding their fractured family together. Dermot was the charmer and Kieran the quiet one. Ronan was the outsider.

It didn't help that Ronan was the only one of the four Quinn boys who harbored an unshakable fear of the water. It had been difficult when every Quinn family activity revolved around boats and sailing. Cam, Dermot and Kieran spent their free time on the water, while Ronan had been forced to find solitary activities on land.

Ronan knew his fear of water had everything to do with what had happened to his parents. He didn't remember many details about that time when the world went black and everyone was sad. Yet, to this day, he remembered the nightmares of cold water and high waves, endless depths and interminable storms, and a deep and utter feeling of loss.

The mother who had comforted him, the father he'd adored, were suddenly gone, and no one had ever really explained to him how that could have happened. He was the one who held hope the longest, certain that one day, his parents would walk in the door and life would get back to normal.

Ronan didn't mind that he was labeled the odd little brother. It was his place in the family hierarchy and it was comfortable amidst brothers who seemed to thrive on competition. He didn't mind that making friends didn't come easily to him. Or that he was twenty-six and drifted between women the same way he drifted between jobs at the yachtworks.

He didn't want to make plans, he avoided commitment. No one could know what the future held so he didn't think about the future. He lived his days, and his nights, one at a time.

But last week, his grandfather had asked them all to imagine a different life, to put aside the responsibilities they'd taken on as kids and to follow their dreams. To his surprise, the further he got from seattle and his life there, the more his past began to fade in his mind.

The only dream he'd ever had as a child was more of a fantasy, one where his parents magically reappeared in their lives. Maybe it was time to start making a plan for himself, to focus on a goal and make it come true. Without his family around, he was no longer the black sheep. He was simply Ronan Quinn, a clean slate, a fresh start.

When the bus driver finally called "Sibleyville," Ronan jumped to his feet. He was about to walk into a different life for the next six weeks. A month and a half was what his grandfather had required for this challenge and starting now, Ronan would have to find a job and a place to sleep.

The bus pulled up in front of a drug store and the driver opened the door. "Sibleyville. Anyone for Sibleyville?"

Ronan walked down the aisle, his duffel slung over his shoulder. "Thanks," he said to the driver as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

If there was a picture next to the definition of quaint in the dictionary, this was it, Ronan thought to himself. A neon Rexall Drug sign hung over his head and a variety of merchandise was displayed behind the gleaming plate glass windows on either side of the entrance. The bus pulled away behind him and Ronan turned and watched it disappear down the street.

He drew a deep breath and the salt-tinged sea air filled Ronan's lungs. It was a different smell from home, he mused. Familiar, but different. Small town life was bound to be a change for him. He enjoyed having all the conveniences that a big city provided. But then, people were supposed to be friendlier in places like this. And for a guy who usually depended on himself, Ronan might need the kindness of a few strangers right now.

He walked inside the drug store and immediately noticed the lunch counter along one wall. He still had a little cash left in his pocket so he decided to take a seat and have something to drink while he got his bearings.

An elderly man stepped behind the counter. "What can I get for you?"

"Chocolate malt," he said.

"Made with vanilla ice cream or chocolate?"

The man's New England accent was thick, the words flattened out until Ronan could barely understand. "Vanilla," Ronan said.

He grabbed a menu from the rack in front of him and perused the prices. They served soda fountain treats and sandwiches for lunch, but he'd have to find another spot for breakfast and dinner. "I'm looking for a place to stay," Ronan said. "Something cheap. Can you suggest anything?"

"Well, it's still high season around here, but there are a few boarding houses in town that you could try. Mrs. Morey has a place over on Second Street and Miss Harrington has a few rooms in her house on Whitney. They're pretty fussy about who they rent to. No funny business, if you get my drift."

"Do you know how much they charge?" Ronan asked.

The old man considered the question for a long moment as he prepared the malt. "Can't say that I do."

"I'm also looking for a job," Ronan said.

"There's a board over at the visitors center," he said. "There's always someone looking for help. They'll help you find a room, too, if you ask Maxine. She's usually behind the desk."

He placed the malt in front of Ronan. The old fountain glass was filled to the brim, then topped with whipped cream and a cherry. "That'll be three-ninety-five," he said.

Ronan pulled out his wallet and laid a five on the counter. "Keep the change," he said.

Ronan lingered over the malt, watching as customers came and went, getting a feel for the locals. Everyone in town seemed pretty friendly. There was a certain civility in their manner that he'd never seen in big city residents. Maybe it was because they all knew each other that they went out of their way to greet each other with a friendly hello or a short conversation.

When he finished his malt, Ronan grabbed his duffel and headed out to the visitor's center. The converted railroad station was home to the local merchant's association as well as the tourist office. He went to the job board and scanned the opportunities. There were jobs in restaurants and motels, a job at the local library and one at the marina.

A job at a local oyster farm caught his eye. He glanced around, then pulled the card from the board and tucked it in his pocket. He loved oysters and farming meant that he'd be spending his time outdoors. He couldn't think of a better combination.

Ronan walked over to the hospitality counter and gave the elderly woman sitting behind it a quick smile. "Are you Maxine?"

She nodded. "I am."

"I'm looking for a room. I'm going to be in town for six weeks. It needs to be cheap. I don't have a lot of money."

"We have a couple of boarding houses in town," she said. "And Isiah Crawford rents out a few of his motel rooms on a monthly basis. Let me try Mrs. Morey first."

The woman dialed a number. "Hello, Elvira. It's Maxine down at the Visitor's Center. I have a young man down here looking for a room. Do you have anything available?" She paused. "Wonderful. How much?" She scribbled something on her pad, then glanced up at Ronan. "What's your name?"

"Ronan Quinn?"

Maxine's eyes went wide for a moment, then she cleared her throat. "Yes, Elvira, you heard that right. Well, I'm sure he'll understand. If you forgot, you forgot."

Maxine hung up the phone and smiled apologetically. "It seems that she doesn't have a room after all. Some big group coming in."

"Could you try the other boarding house?" he asked.

"I—I don't think Tillie has anything available either. I just saw her at church this morning and she—she would have mentioned it. Maybe you could try across the river in Newcastle?"

Ronan had the distinct impression that he was getting the runaround. Why were these people suddenly unwilling to rent to him? "Maybe you could try the motel?"

With a reluctant smile, she dialed the phone. "Hi there, Josiah. It's Maxine over at the Visitor's Center. I have a young man here named Ronan Quinn and he's looking for a—yes, that's what I said. He's looking for a room. Well, that's a shame. All right. You, too, Josiah."

She hung up the phone again and shrugged. "He doesn't have any vacancies either. Newcastle really is your best option. It's ju...

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