Home to Sparrow Lake

Falling in love is not the plan

Police chief Alex Novak is exactly the kind of man Kristen Lange could fall for—if she were staying in Sparrow Lake. But she can’t fall. And she can’t stay. Moving home was a temporary setback, not a life choice! As soon as she lands a job in Chicago, Kristen will be packing her Manolo shoes and hopping back on the fast track.

If she’s going to meet her goals, she can’t afford distractions—or involvement. Not in her aunt’s quilting store, not in her widowed sister’s life, and certainly not with Alex. No matter how intriguing—and determined—he is. No matter what she’s starting to feel.

Pulse humming, Kristen came face-

to-face with the man who’d arrested her the night before.

“Is there a problem, Chief?”

“Alex, please.”

He was wearing a uniform today, looking unbelievably good in stark black. She almost wished she could see the soft gray of his eyes through his dark sunglasses. Not wanting to be attracted to him, she swallowed hard. “Okay, Alex, do you have a problem with me?”

“Why would you think that?”

“This is the second time today you stopped in front of the store like you were casing it. Or maybe you’re expecting me to be doing something not to your liking. Maybe you just want to arrest me again.”

The way he was staring at her so intently, as if he wanted to say something but was reluctant, made her mouth go dry.

Then a slow easy grin lit his face. “Will you have dinner with me?”

Kristen swallowed hard. She’d had a purpose in moving to Sparrow Lake, and it certainly wasn’t romance. No matter how tempting this man in uniform was, getting involved would just complicate things.

Dear Reader,

Lynn Patrick is a writing team—Linda and Patricia being our real first names.

Linda’s middle sister liked to quilt. While Linda was visiting the small town in which she grew up, her sister took her to a specialized quilting store with creative projects hanging on the walls, yards of fabrics, and friendly local personnel who also offered classes on weekends and evenings. She found the place inspiring and, though she’s a city person now, she couldn’t help imagining the story of a burned-out urban dweller returning to her roots to find love and happiness.

Linda’s sister also had small twin granddaughters, some of whose escapades inspired scenes in Home to Sparrow Lake.

We hope you fall in love with these characters just as we did. And be sure to look for us on Facebook!

Lynn Patrick

Home to Sparrow Lake

Lynn Patrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LYNN PATRICK

is the pseudonym for two best friends who started writing together a few decades ago. Linda is a professor with a reading specialty, and Patricia writes as Patricia Rosemoor. Together they enjoy creating worlds that are lightened by the unexpected, fun and sometimes wonderful vagaries of real life.

For Linda’s sisters and their families, where we got some great and also fun details for this story.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

BEING BONE TIRED for a change felt good.

Kristen Lange knew she was driven when it came to work, and it had been nearly a year since she’d had the opportunity to satisfy her type A personality. But thanks to Aunt Margaret, she’d spent a long day going over Sew Fine’s records to acquaint herself with the business. She knew nothing about shops that sold quilting materials and offered quilting classes. But she was a quick learner.

When her eyes began to water and she couldn’t stop herself from yawning, she knew it was time to call it quits. There was always tomorrow.

She checked her watch. One in the morning. Sheesh, it already was tomorrow.

Enough. Even a type A needed some sleep.

And food, her noisy stomach reminded her. She remembered having lunch halfway through the day, and she’d meant to order in dinner, but she’d been so preoccupied going over the store’s accounts and various orders—mostly handwritten on scraps of paper—that she’d simply forgotten she needed to eat. Her growling stomach was doing a fine job of reminding her. When she got back to the house, she would have to raid Aunt Margaret’s refrigerator.

She closed down the computer and searched under the desk for her high heels. Designer shoes were her weakness, but four-inch stilettos weren’t meant to be worn for so many hours, and she’d taken them off once the store had closed for the night.

Yawning again, she shoved her swollen feet into her shoes and headed for the back door, where she shut down the store’s lights.

She was so tired she might not bother with the fridge after all.

It wasn’t until she’d closed the door and heard the automatic lock click into place that she realized she’d left her purse—and keys!—by the register inside.