Along the Mystic River (Paperback)
Along the Mystic River (Paperback)
Couldn't load pickup availability
She came for the real estate, but stayed for the girl next door, and stripping away decades of varnish, she discovered a long-neglected part of herself.
Riley, a New-York workaholic, has health issues and that leaves her no choice but to move to a small town to lead a calmer life. She hates the huge mansion she bought on a whim and stands out like a sore thumb in the cheery community of Mystic.
Quinn, a Mystic-based contractor, has once again missed out on purchasing the house her family built. After saving up for years, she’s still not able to buy back her childhood home that her grandfather lost years ago.
When a beautiful and swanky city girl who has no respect for the house’s history buys it without even viewing it, Quinn decides she has no place in Mystic, yet she can’t seem to stay away…
Share
Book Specification
Book Specification
Pages : 388
ISBN : 9781739724078
Weight : 370g
Dimensions : 203 x 22 x 127 mm
Shipping Information
Shipping Information
UK, US, Australian and Canadian customer orders are printed and shipped from within the respective country.
International customers (all non UK, US, Australian and Canadian countries): Books are printed and shipped from UK facilities.
Printing time: 3-10 business days
Shipping times: vary by location
Before ordering:
Double-check your details including shipping address prior to
completing the check-out process as changes cannot be made once the
order has been placed.
Important note: International orders (as specified above) may incur
import duties, fees, and taxes from the receiving country upon
delivery. These charges are collected by your courier and are not under
our control.
Themes and Tropes
Themes and Tropes
- Sapphic romance
- Sexual awakening
- Enemies to lovers
- Small town romance
- Starting over
Look Inside
Look Inside
Welcome to Historic Mystic. Settled 1654. The round wooden sign with carved inscription on the outskirts of downtown Mystic held a promise of charm and community, but Riley felt little excitement. She was a city girl, and leaving her beloved New York behind was painful and didn’t feel right. The idea was to start over, with a new and slower pace of living that would benefit her health and keep her heart ticking steadily, but driving through the sleepy town, she couldn’t imagine building a life here.
Only a handful of cars had passed her so far, and everything was closed. It was still early, she supposed, and this wasn’t the big city where some shops were open around the clock. Riley was an early riser, and she’d insisted on picking up the keys to her new home first thing Saturday morning, but the drive from Manhattan had only taken her two hours and now she’d have to wait around for the realtor to open. Slow down. Her doctor’s words echoed in the back of her mind. Take a step back and slow down.
Why had she wanted to be here so early? To check if her things had arrived in the house that she’d purchased last week? To unpack and clean the place? Her assistant had most likely already done that. And then what? That was a scary thought because Riley had no idea what to do with her life if she wasn’t working twenty-four seven.
Her satnav indicated she was close to the realtor’s office, but instead of parking in front, she continued to drive through the town to kill time. She passed pretty New England coastal-style houses with big porches and generous yards, small independent restaurants and coffee shops, and a gas station where villagers were congregated outside drinking coffee. There were a couple of churches and a sweet little harbor with a long, wooden pier lined with fishing boats. A drawbridge over Mystic River divided the village in two, and as she crossed it, she saw vessels approaching from either side. The river reflected the sweet houses along the waterfront, most of them painted red or white, with private docks and colorful boats. Sure, it was a cute village, some would even call it picturesque, but Mystic was a getaway, somewhere to spend a weekend or perhaps have a second home.
Riley didn’t know which side of the river her new house was on. She could go through her documents on the passenger’s seat and find out, but the truth was, she didn’t care all that much; it could wait until she got her keys. She hadn’t even chosen Mystic herself; her assistant had recommended it to her, as it was pretty, quiet, and rural but not too far from New York and close to a good hospital. After that, Riley had scrolled the local realtor’s website and picked a house. With only three properties on the market close to the center—if you could call it that—there wasn’t much choice, so she’d gone for the biggest one and settled on a great price as it had been on the market for a while.
To others, it may have seemed a ridiculous way to start over, but after she’d nearly worked herself to death and then sold her company, she couldn’t care less where she was. She just needed a place to rest and come up with a plan on how to move forward, and Mystic was as good a place as any to do that. At least the name had a nice ring to it; it sounded kind of spiritual.
The town was quieter on the other side of the river, and after driving past an art museum and a small library, there wasn’t much to see. More pretty houses, two farms, and a park entrance lined the road, which was broken up with occasional roundabouts that served as focal point for statues of what she assumed to be high-standing historical town figures. Before she knew it, she’d driven out of the village and was nearing Groton, the neighboring town.
“This is ridiculous,” she murmured, turning the car on a church driveway. What was she going to do here all day, every day? She was highly intelligent, intensely driven, and anything she touched practically turned into gold, yet now she’d have to take it easy for the rest of her life, and she was only forty. Used to working between fourteen and sixteen hours a day, Riley wondered what people with too much time on their hands did with their lives because she couldn’t think of a single thing that she enjoyed more than being successful. Without her PR business to focus on, who was she?
Noting the realtor would be open now, she drove back toward the drawbridge, then cursed as the lights turned red. Her first reaction was to slam her hand on the horn, but she doubted anyone would hold the bridge down just because she needed to be somewhere. Take it easy, she told herself once again. Deep breaths. She called the realtor; a woman’s voice sounded over the speakers.
“Mystic Estates, Lindsey speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi, it’s Riley Moore. I was meant to meet you at nine-thirty to pick up the keys to the Aster House, but the drawbridge is up, and it’s taking forever, so I just wanted to let you know I’ll be late.”
“No problem, that happens regularly,” the woman said in a cheerful tone. “And I have the keys here. Your assistant dropped them off last night. Are you in a hurry?”
Riley hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “No, there’s no rush,” she said, wondering if she’d ever uttered those words before.
“Great. Stay where you are, and I’ll come your way as soon as the bridge is down. Aster House is on the Groton side. You’re not far, but it’s a little hard to find, so I was planning on taking you there anyway.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you. I’ll see you soon.”
Riley turned off her engine, pushed her seat back, and took a couple of deep breaths. It was only just starting to sink in. She’d arrived, and this was it; her new life, void of direction or any form of excitement. Even worse, she’d be living on the quiet side of the river. Not that the other side had much going for it, but at least there were shops there. And now she’d have to wait every time the bridge was up.
