Was he angry at her for leaving, or for coming back?
When Emma Candler returned to Bliss, Tennessee, after four long years trying to findâor loseâherself, she was intent on restoring more than just her nanâs termite-tortured old house. She had her life and her dignity to rebuild, too. Every small-town gossip knew all about the family fiasco she had fled from, and the fiancé she had hoped would follow. But Noah Gage wasnât a follower. And he didnât seem too pleased to see her back...or impressed with her attempts to make amends. Maybe there was nothing left between them. But Emma had to try to make things right.
âThe thing is, he didnât love me.â
âHe did. I was there. Noah loved you deeply.â
No. He had wanted to love her. But heâd had no time to let Emma in, to let her share his burdens. But she wasnât about to dredge up the same old song with her mother. âWhatever happened, itâs in the past. His mother just hasnât noticed yet.â
âWhat do you want from him, Emma?â
She blinked. âThatâs an odd question from you.â
Her mother only waited.
âNothing.â
Dear Reader,
Now Sheâs Back begins on my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving. When I was ten, my parents split up, and my mother moved us children back to her familyâs part of the worldâthe Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. Little did I know we had an amazing tradition that had been going on for years while I pranced around a southern beach. I missed that beach. I never feel more at peace than when the ocean is playing music in my head, but if I could spend one more Thanksgiving at my grandmotherâs table in Tennessee, that would be perfection.
When I started this story, I wanted to bring you to the Smokies for a family dinner at Grandmaâs, but I had a difficult time because perfection in my head didnât fly straight onto the page. Then I asked my own beloved grandmother into my fictional kitchen, and her love and compassion fueled this book.
If ever a couple hungered for love and compassion, itâs Emma Candler and Noah Gage. They contend with old scandals and fresh wounds. They have to learn each other all over again and overcome old habits built on defenses theyâve built against a hard world.
I hope youâll enjoy dinner at their Thanksgiving table, and I hope youâll come back to the town of Bliss, wrapped in the mists of the Smoky Mountains.
All the best,
Anna
ANNA ADAMS
wrote her first romance on the beach in wet sand with a stick. These days she uses pens, software, or napkins and a crayon to write the kinds of stories she loves bestâromance that involves everyone in the family, and often the whole community. Love, like a stone tossed into a lake, causes ripples to spread and contract, bringing conflict and well-meaning âhelpâ from the people who care most.
This is for my brother, Pete. One day, he walked out of our house, yelling for our cousin, but I heard him call for âShrimpo,â and Shrimpo he became for years. Pete, my little buddy, my baby in a way. Pete, a softness in my heart. I love you, brother.
PROLOGUE
THANKSGIVING WAS HER favorite holiday because it meant getting away from the anger at her house and bathing in the love at her grandmotherâs. Emma Candler turned her fatherâs SUV into the lane that ran between their house and her grandmotherâs white Victorian homestead on Bliss Peak. Pale, thready, early-morning mist wound between the hardwoods and the pines, drifting to the spires and lights of the resort town below.
Emma parked in the gravel courtyard in front of Nanâs house. Jumping out, she checked her watch and peered down the driveway, down the mountain. Her fiancé had promised to come early, but his family drama often distracted Noah from his promises to her. His father, Odell, tended to choose the big days on the calendar to have his most dramatic meltdowns.
She grabbed her overnight bag, as well as an ironstone bowl of cranberry sauce and another of coleslaw.
If sheâd known how to whistle, she would have. The holiday was always filled with Nanâs traditions of cooking and expressing thanksâeven for their dysfunctional family. They would eat, then hike, and then eat some more. Pure joy.
As Emma hurried up the stone stairs to the wraparound porch, she noticed that the paint had started to peel. Come summer, she thought, she could help her grandmother hire someone to do the repairs or even do them herself. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she opened one side of the double front doors.
âNan?â she called. âIâm here. Are you in the kitchen?â
The aromas of turkey and spicy pie wafted into the front hall. Emma hurried to the kitchen in the back of the house, where she saw pumpkin and squash pies sitting on the island. Other dishes in midpreparation littered the counter.