On the Friday before Memorial Day, the long, wooded drive down to The Misfit Inn was already lined with vehicles. People were headed toward the house with coolers hauled between them, camp chairs over shoulders, and picnic blankets tucked under arms. Logan could already hear the musicians tuning up out back for the inaugural performance of the season. For something that had been impromptu entertainment last summer during Flynn's initial stay, Jam Night had become The Place To Be on Friday night in Eden's Ridge as soon as the evenings turned warm. Local musicians from near and far gathered together for a few hours of improvised music, and the townsfolk and guests made a party of it. Logan had enjoyed the hell out of the ones he'd attended. But as he made his way down the crushed-gravel drive, unfamiliar nerves skated over his skin, like that time during his sophomore year of high school, when he showed up at Homecoming with Anna Beth Alton in the wake of her dumping the most popular g

In the wake of Nigel Hitchens' article, Athena kept a low profile, spending most of her time at the inn or the farm. She kept expecting somebody else to pop out of the woodwork to interrupt her life, set her back again. Though, she'd ultimately handled the whole critic situation with more resilience than she'd have managed without Logan to lean on. He'd been right. She didn't really want to be a part of the haute cuisine world anymore. She hated the needless pretension and the automatic assumption of classism that went along with it. Cooking for real people, normal people had given her more pleasure than she'd expected. Since she'd taken over the breakfast service at the inn, it had become something of a personal challenge to elevate humble ingredients to something more, something memorable. The end result had delighted guests and generated some good reviews for the inn. She'd contributed little enough to the family business since they'd started it last year, so it felt good to manage

In the backseat of the cab, Athena smoothed her sweaty palms over her skirt. She wished she'd gotten the chance to talk to Maggie again this morning. Her sister had been up and out early for work, leaving Athena to get ready for this meeting on her own. Conscious of meeting with a bunch of Hollywood types and the need to make a good impression, she'd spent a lot more time and effort on her appearance than usual. Hair. Makeup. A dress. Heels she hoped never to see again. Stuff she usually reserved for major events like weddings and funerals. She wished like hell she could do this in jeans and boots. But they were expecting a professional chef, not a farm girl.Realizing she'd clenched her hands in her skirt, she relaxed them, smoothing the fabric again. Why the hell was she thinking about being a farm girl right now anyway? She wasn't a farm girl. Hadn't been since she was a kid. A couple of months hanging out with Logan didn't change that, no matter how comfortable she'd gotten back o

Filming in Progress.Logan hesitated at the sign on his front door. He'd expected her to be done by now, but maybe he'd had a bit of a lead foot all the way back from Nashville. As the dogs weren't milling around, waiting to slide past him, he took a chance and quietly slipped inside. Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it on a peg by the door and followed the sound of voices.Athena stood at the island, her hair up in one of those messy twists as she tipped a casserole dish toward the camera. "Isn't that gorgeous?"She sure as hell is. Smiling to himself, Logan leaned in the doorway and took her in. Those wide gray eyes were sparkling and that smart mouth he loved so much curved in a broad, easy smile. Happiness practically radiated off her. And why shouldn't it? With the help of her sisters, she'd managed to carve out a niche for herself doing exactly what she wanted - highlighting the farm-to-table cooking she was so passionate about. The Misfit Kitchen web series and the acco

"I can't believe they had the nerve to say nothing is wrong with you." In the backseat of the town car, Genevieve fumed. Maggie didn't know how she had the energy. They'd both been up most of the night. Too exhausted to work up much of an argument, she rested her head against the seat, staring out as the quiet streets of L.A. slid past. She wished she could just fall into sleep and avoid all conversation, but the edgy restlessness told her sleep would be a long time coming, if it came at all. And she was afraid of what dreams would bring when it did."I told you, I'm fine.""You're not fine. You passed out in the middle of a presentation."Humiliating. Roman Lewis had apparently been the one to catch her, just before her head cracked against the floor. "Which they concluded was from low blood sugar, lack of sleep, and excessive caffeine. Not a brain tumor or whatever else you made them test me for." She'd lost track of the number of scans and blood draws she'd been subjected to.