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Through A Magnolia Filter
Nan Dixon
Home is where his heart is…but what about hers?Family was always a foreign concept to Liam Delaney. Until research into one of his documentary films brings him to Savannah and Dolley Fitzgerald’s B and B. Dolley’s passion for life and photography is infectious. When she becomes his apprentice, they’re the perfect team in every way. He’s finally found the home he’s always wanted and it’s all because of her.The only problem is that his dream is of a home and family, while Dolley craves adventure. They may be at odds, but Liam knows they can make both of their dreams come true together. He just needs to convince her….
Home is where his heart is...but what about hers?
Family was always a foreign concept to Liam Delaney. Until research into one of his documentary films brings him to Savannah and Dolley Fitzgerald’s B and B. Dolley’s passion for life and photography is infectious. When she becomes his apprentice, they’re the perfect team in every way. He’s finally found the home he’s always wanted, and it’s all because of her.
The only problem is that his dream is of a home and family, while Dolley craves adventure. They may be at odds, but Liam knows they can make both of their dreams come true together. He just needs to convince her...
Liam pulled her close. They fit perfectly.
He tasted wine and Dolley, all in one spicy kiss.
Someone moaned. Maybe it was him.
The past month had been leading up to this one perfect moment.
Her head tipped back in surrender. Her fingers gripped his hair.
How had they waited this long?
“Wait.” Her word was muffled against his mouth. “Stop.”
He pulled away, gasping. “Incredible.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No. That shouldn’t have happened. It can’t happen.”
“But...” His fingers tightened on her arms.
She stepped away, her hand covering her mouth. “If we keep going, everything will be ruined. Ruined.”
Dear Reader (#ue4fba30b-9440-516b-938f-f24193d6a2fe),
Welcome back to Fitzgerald House. If you haven’t visited before, Fitzgerald House is a bed-and-breakfast set in Savannah’s wonderful historic district. The three Fitzgerald sisters, Abigail, Bess and Dolley, own and operate the expanding B and B.
In A Savannah Christmas Wish, Fitzgerald House book two, you briefly met Liam Delaney, an Irish photographer and documentary maker. Liam stays at the B and B and shares Christmas with the Fitzgeralds. Through a Magnolia Filter, Fitzgerald House book three, overlaps with book two. Don’t let that worry you. The books can be read as stand-alones! In the beginning of this book, Bess and Daniel aren’t together. I had a blast writing the Christmas scene from Liam’s and Dolley’s perspectives. I’d love to know what you think about seeing the scene through a different set of eyes. You can contact me through my website, www.nandixon.com (http://www.nandixon.com).
Dolley wants what Liam has: to travel the world for a career in photography. Liam longs for roots, family and a home—everything Dolley has but wants to give up.
This couple is one of my favorites (don’t tell the others!). Liam has a swoon-worthy Irish accent and needs love and family. And spunky, brilliant Dolley deserves love and to have her talent recognized.
If you’d like to see some of the incredible Bonaventure Cemetery statuary, check out my Pinterest page. I create a board for each of my books: www.pinterest.com/nandixonauthor (http://www.pinterest.com/NanDixonauthor).
Enjoy Savannah!
Nan Dixon
Through a Magnolia Filter
Nan Dixon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
NAN DIXON spent her formative years as an actress, singer, dancer and competitive golfer. But the need to eat had her studying accounting in college. Unfortunately, being a successful financial executive didn’t feed her passion to perform. When the pharmaceutical company she worked for was purchased, Nan got the chance of a lifetime—the opportunity to pursue a writing career. She’s a five-time Golden Heart® finalist, lives in the Midwest and is active in her local RWA chapter and on the board of a dance company. She has five children, three sons-in-law, one grandchild, one grandchild on the way and one neurotic cat.
To Mom and Dad always.
Just like Dolley, I never shared my dream of becoming a writer. I hope you would be proud.
Mom, you took a chance and left everything and everyone you loved in England and followed your heart to America. You were amazing. To my wonderful, fabulous family, thank you for supporting my writing. Lily—you are a bright light and I can’t wait to meet Harper!
Thank you to my Harlequin team for believing in this series and guiding me through the publication process: Piya Campana, Megan Long, Victoria Curran, Deirdre McCluskey and all the others whom I don’t even know.
I couldn’t have envisioned this book without my critique group challenging me to dig deeper. Thank you, Ann Hinnenkamp, Leanne Farella, Neroli Lacey and Kathryn Kohorst. And my Golden Heart sisters keep me sane—Dreamcatchers, Lucky 13s, Starcatchers and the Unsinkables. And my writing community—MFW, you’re the best.
And last, this book is for the group that started it all—my sisters. Mo, Sue and Trish.
Contents
COVER (#uba7726ed-0b50-5e5a-a71c-c68ea926e3b8)
BACK COVER TEXT (#uc4ac3f01-8577-568d-aff2-7942e43608a5)
INTRODUCTION (#ue2f089c3-f670-530b-9179-de9369359913)
Dear Reader
TITLE PAGE (#uf8d63a8c-f17c-52ab-9aa0-6dbb23908719)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u8bc0facb-80aa-5929-bac1-04b667b8f253)
DEDICATION (#u4e425f79-08a1-54ca-85c6-b95f73a8dbc9)
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
EPILOGUE
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue4fba30b-9440-516b-938f-f24193d6a2fe)
Use a picture. It’s worth a thousand words.
Arthur Brisbane
LIAM DELANEY WAS an orphan. Again. He laced his hands together and waited for the priest to bury his godfather. A sigh whistled between his lips. At thirty, being alone shouldn’t matter. But it did. Was it wrong to want a home, a family? To belong?
The wind caught the priest’s deep voice and swirled it round the cemetery. Latin. English. The languages blended in the breeze.
Ignoring the words, Liam listened to the priest’s tone for any hint of sorrow at the passing of the man in the coffin. He heard none. No surprise that. He’d lived with the man for eleven long years.
This day couldn’t end soon enough. He was ready to escape Kilkee for the final time. Leave this reminder of his childhood and catch a plane—anywhere. Just so he wasn’t in Clare, Ireland.
As a distraction, he plotted how he would film Seamus FitzGerald’s funeral. With a wide angle, he’d pan from the crumbling dark stone wall through the gray-and-white crosses and sinking headstones. While the priest droned, he’d linger on the yellow warbler perched on a cherub statue and let its sweet, clear song play. The camera would swing to the Celtic cross marking his godparents’ graves. The towering cross lorded over the monuments of the other FitzGeralds buried near.
Seamus’s wife had died twenty-five years ago. Liam had only known her through pictures he’d found in the manor. Photographic evidence Seamus had once been happy.
When Seamus buried his wife, he’d buried his smile.
After pausing the camera on the cross, he’d pan to the eight mourners gathered round the open grave. The priest. The housekeeper. The mortuary man. The groundskeeper. Three strangers, one young and two who must be Seamus’s chums. And him, the unloved godchild. Standing alone.
Compared to memories of his parents’ funeral, this service was stark. For his da and mum there had been flowers, music, tears and hordes of people. Liam had stood next to his scowling godfather, grieving. He hadn’t realized he would never be hugged again. A lad of eight needed hugs.
He’d learned to expect no affection from the man in the coffin.
A gust of wind fluttered the flower petals in the arrangement straddling the yawning hole. A bee flitted from the single funereal wreath. His camera would follow the bee as it left the daisy to circle Father Patrick’s head.
The priest intoned, “Because God has chosen to call our brother, Seamus James FitzGerald, from this life to himself, we commit his body to the earth, for we are dust and unto dust we shall return.”
Liam would shift the camera frame to the housekeeper’s face. Wind tugged strands of gray hair free from her bun and ruffled her black skirt. He’d track the tear slipping down her lined cheek in a harsh unforgiving close-up.
Why would anyone shed a tear for Seamus?
Cut.
This day was such an un-Irish, un-Seamus fall day. It was a chilly ten degrees for October, but sunlight lit the Kilkee countryside.
The man he’d lived with from the time he was eight until he’d escaped with his cameras at nineteen had just been laid to rest. Instead of sorrow, he felt—empty.
Here lies an unhappy man. Liam wanted to engrave the words on the cross.
The graveside service concluded. The small group waited, the silence broken by the warbler’s joy-filled tune.
Liam refused to add any bitter words to the priest’s platitudes, and the mourners eventually shuffled away from the yawning hole.
A young stranger placed a meaty hand on Liam’s sleeve. He was large enough to play American football. How had he known his godfather?
Squinting against the sun, the man said, “Mr. Delaney, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Liam turned to leave.
The man’s hand tightened on his arm. “I’m Seamus’s solicitor, Ian Lachlan.”
Liam shook Ian’s outstretched hand.
“When you can make the time, I’d like to speak with you,” Ian said.
Behind Ian, the housekeeper, Mrs. Needles, waited. Liam nodded in her direction.
“Are you staying at the manor?” Ian asked.
Absolutely not. He rolled his shoulders. “I’m at the inn.”
Ian tugged out a card. “Please, call me at your earliest convenience.”
Liam tucked the card in his pocket. “I planned to motor back to Galway today.” And find somewhere else to go. Somewhere he felt welcome.
“But Seamus’s will?” The solicitor frowned. “Your godfather has specific requests for you. You must stay.”
Requests? Why should he do anything for that curmudgeon?
Ian glanced back at Mrs. Needles. The priest joined the housekeeper. “Could we meet this afternoon?”
Reluctantly, Liam said, “Aye.”
