THE MAN IN GULL COTTAGE by Caroline Clemmons

 THE MAN IN GULL COTTAGE 

By Caroline Clemmons 

Sweet Contemporary Romance 

Short Story 

 

Fourteen authors from the Romance Gems blog contributed short stories to an anthology titled LAST CHANCE BEACH: SUMMER’S END. My contribution was THE MAN IN GULL COTTAGE. The stories varied from sweet to spicy. The anthology is no longer available, but most of the stories are offered individually.  

 

About The Story 

Zara Webb and her best friend have come to Last Chance Beach for two weeks to recharge. Zara has worked long hours to reach her professional level at Thoon Technology. She’s been given the time of her island vacation to reach a decision. Should she accept a major promotion which will mean a huge advance in pay, prestige, and demands on her time or remain in her current job? She’d be the youngest person ever to reach that position. If she passes it up, it will never be offered again. If she accepts it, she won’t have time for a husband or family. Why is she letting herself give important consideration to the opinion of a beach bum who owns Gull Cottage?  

Carter Harte is a bestselling suspense/thriller author who writes as C. H. Logan. He’s managed to keep his identity secret here on the island where he lives and enjoys the anonymity. He is instantly attracted to the gorgeous blond who’s rented the next cottage. He can’t help blond-on-the-brain and wants to spend all his time with her. He intends to convince her she has another option—marry him and open her own consulting business. 

What will Zara decide? When Zara learns Carter’s pseudonym, will it drive her into his arms or away from him? 

THE MAN IN GULL COTTAGE is available for 99 cents. 

Buy link is https://www.amzn.com/B093FV4QDH 

 

Excerpt 

He cleared his throat. “This part of the beach is private.” 

She paused and stared at him. “What part?” 

He jerked a thumb in the direction from which she’d come. “See the three round wooden pillars? That’s where my land starts.” 

She turned and shielded her eyes with her hand. “Oh, I thought those were to keep people from driving their cars on the sand.” 

“That, too, but one has a large sign that says Gull Cottage and Private Beach. That should have been a clue.” 

She held up a kid’s plastic sand pail. “Are you saying I should return these shells I’ve collected for my niece?” 

“I’m saying you’re on private property. I don’t care if you collect sea shells, but I’d appreciate you not disturbing anything else.” 

“Like what? You think I’m coming up to rob your house? Wait, what if I took a clump of sea oats? Or a handful of your sand? Are you patrolling?” 

He extended his hand palm out. “Don’t get mad at me when you’re the one trespassing. I meant collecting drift wood and sea glass or destroying sand dunes. I’m simply out here walking on my beach.” 

She straightened her shoulders and looked at the barrier. “Well, see that you don’t walk on that side of those posts.” 

“Ah, but I will, and I can do so legally.” He gestured broadly. “The beach where you’re staying is public. This part is private. See the difference?” 

“No, I don’t see the difference. It’s the same sand.” 

 

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