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The Cottage on Juniper Ridge
Sheila Roberts
How to change your life… Jen Heath has just made one of the biggest decisions of her life. She’s going to leave her stressful, overcommitted life in Seattle and move to the laid-back town of Icicle Falls.Renting her lovely little cottage on Juniper Ridge, Jen soon finds pleasure in the simpler things in life such as making friends and joining the local book club.But she can’t escape every complication – like falling in love with her gorgeous landlord…Welcome to Icicle Falls, the town that will warm your heart.'Sheila Roberts makes me laugh. I read her books & come away hopeful and happy.' - bestselling romance author Debbie Macomber
How to Change Your Life…
Can a book change your life? Yes, when it’s Simplicity, Muriel Sterling’s guide to plain living. In fact, it inspires Jen Heath to leave her stressful, overcommitted life in Seattle and move to Icicle Falls, where she rents a lovely little cottage on Juniper Ridge. And where she can enjoy simple pleasures—like joining the local book club—and complicated ones, like falling in love with her sexy landlord, Garrett Armstrong.
Her sister Toni is ready for a change, too. She has a teenage daughter who’s constantly texting her friends, a husband who’s more involved with his computer than he is with her, and a son who’s consumed by video games. Toni wants her family to grow closer—to return to a simpler way of life.
Other women in town, like Stacy Thomas, are also inspired to unload their excess stuff and some of the extra responsibilities they’ve taken on.
But as they all discover, sometimes life simply happens. It doesn’t always happen simply!
Praise for the novels of (#ulink_ac5c60d9-ea2c-5747-8054-23bbd52dc370)
SHEILA ROBERTS
‘Her characters are warm and engaging and their interactions are full of humour.’
—RT Book Reviews
‘An uplifting, charming, feel-good story’
—Booklist
‘… will doubtless warm more than a few hearts.’
—Publishers Weekly
‘A wonderful story with characters so real and defined I feel like I am personally acquainted with them … There is humour and emotion in large quantities in this fantastic book that is next to impossible to put down. Kudos and a large bouquet of flowers to Sheila Roberts for giving us one of the best books of the year.’
—Fresh Fiction
“Within minutes of cracking open the book, my mood was lifted.”
—First for Women
SHEILA ROBERTS is married and has three children. She lives on a lake in the Pacific Northwest. When she's not hanging out with her girlfriends or hitting the dance floor with her husband, she can be found writing about those things dear to women's hearts: family, friends and chocolate.
You can visit Sheila at her website, www.sheilasplace.com (http://www.sheilasplace.com). You can also find her on Twitter @_Sheila_Roberts and Facebook.
Also by Sheila Roberts
BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE
MERRY EX-MAS
WHAT SHE WANTS
Sheila Roberts
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
For my buddy Liz
Dear Reader, (#ulink_f0435c24-1cd9-5f80-9cd7-88c53a2ea258)
I think this book has been bubbling at the back of my mind for some time. A few years ago my husband and I moved from the house we'd been in for eighteen years and I was shocked to see how much stuff we'd accumulated! After so many runs to Goodwill that I lost count and packing enough boxes to fill a stadium, I was so done with stuff. I could drive by a garage sale and not even be tempted! Of course, that didn't last long. Pretty soon I was, once more, braking for garage sales. Then we lost my husband's parents and were up to our eyeballs in stuff again. What to do with it all? Where to put it? Let me tell you, it wasn't easy. And keeping the pile of things to a reasonable level is still an ongoing process, but I think I'm getting it down to a system.
And that wasn't the only thing I was dealing with. I was trying to simplify my life. Between trying to keep up with work, family responsibilities, house, garden, church and friends, I was on overload. When we first moved to our little lake house, I'd envisioned myself puttering in the garden, growing my own fruit and veggies, sitting on the patio and enjoying the view, sipping cocktails with the neighbours. Ha! Who had time for that? I needed to simplify my life!
I suspect I'm not the only one who's been faced with this. I've talked to a lot of women stuck in that same cramped boat. It's easy to get overcommitted and overloaded. It sort of sneaks up on us one bargain at a time, one ‘Sure, I can do that’ commitment at a time. Next thing we know, life is complicated.
The women in Icicle Falls have realised this and they're going to do something about it. But they've got some challenges ahead. I hope you'll enjoy their journey. And if it resonates with you, well, I always love hearing from my readers. Find me on Facebook or visit me at my website, www.sheilasplace.com (http://www.sheilasplace.com).
Happy reading!
Sheila
Contents
Cover (#u2cf9821e-fe8c-5883-aaea-164af8d6d47d)
Back Cover Text (#ubed6759d-d764-503c-948f-f6932ee29d47)
Praise (#uf4069d7a-62a0-514c-879f-bf632a913857)
About the Author (#u8eac8701-9644-50ba-a640-39ff751adaef)
Title Page (#u218e0e7c-62a2-5444-b1b3-89922d2153e9)
Dedication (#u5e1f449e-6e49-5a96-ae00-53ea0e4b4cdc)
Dear Reader (#u07bd8e2c-b203-5b45-83d0-1920ae2a3586)
Chapter One (#u71d3bdf5-fe99-5723-ada9-f8c1bc784381)
Chapter Two (#uc7bfb7e0-9936-5bbb-9649-65bc6fce2b59)
Chapter Three (#u78fdda17-ac70-596a-b3bf-1ee06f7765d9)
Chapter Four (#ue5577069-e057-5f52-b87e-422f83f7c94a)
Chapter Five (#u516c4f95-a187-5575-bbb1-aea2fede5990)
Chapter Six (#ubbbfeb6c-4d55-5e1e-bf0d-ea1637b14578)
Chapter Seven (#u7dcbae79-a48c-50de-ad3b-757394a392fb)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_0e02c5aa-a1b3-57b7-8ae6-f787a8778cc1)
Sometimes we get so used to the status quo that we forget we can change it.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Jen Heath hurried along the downtown Seattle sidewalk, hunched against a freezing rain, her holiday to-do list dogging her every step, breathing down her neck. The trees that lined the street twinkled with white lights, and store windows boasted displays of Santas, presents and happy elves. A steel drum band had set up in the Westlake Mall and was playing “Jingle Bells.” Bah, humbug, she thought grumpily as she strode past them.
Anyone peering inside her head would think she hated the holidays. She didn’t. She loved them. What she didn’t love was being so darned busy.
How had she gotten stuck in charge of planning the office Christmas party? Oh, yeah, Patty Unger, her supervisor, had volunteered her. Thanks, Patty. Not that Jen minded planning a party. But having to plan one this year wasn’t fun. It was just one more thing to add to a very long to-do list.
In addition to her full-time job as office slave at Emerald City Promotions, she sold Soft Glow Candles on the party plan—all so she could whittle down what she owed on her credit cards, keep up her car payments and make the mortgage on her First Hill condo, which she could barely afford. The car she’d needed, but the condo? What had she been thinking when she bought it? Oh, yeah. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d taken one look at the granite countertops, the hardwood floors and the view of the Seattle skyline, and condo lust had come over her like a fever. By the time the fever broke she was a homeowner. (Thanks to the bank and her parents.) And her credit cards were maxed out. (Because, of course, she had to furnish the new condo.) Now she was a stressed homeowner.
Who was never home. She had three candle parties booked this week and two more on the weekend. The following weekend she had another candle party on Saturday, and then on Sunday a cookie exchange at her sister’s, followed by the church choir concert. Oh, she’d be home later that evening, right along with the eighteen other people she’d invited to her place for the postconcert party. (This was the symptom of yet another fever—new-owner pride. She’d been dying to show off the condo, and hosting a party had seemed like the perfect way.) The day before, she’d gone to see the gingerbread house display at the Sheraton Hotel with her mother, her sister and her niece, Jordan. She’d been pooped, but when she tried to wiggle out of going, Toni had reminded her that this was a tradition, and anyway, she needed to spend time with her family. Guilt, the gift that kept on giving. After that, she’d visited her grandma, who was complaining that she’d almost forgotten what her granddaughter looked like. It seemed everyone in her family was giving guilt for Christmas this year.
Tonight she absolutely had to do laundry. But what she really wanted was to flop on the couch and watch It’s a Wonderful Life. None of her friends understood what she saw in that old movie, but she’d been watching it with her family every Christmas since she was a kid. Well, except for the past couple of years. Between having her marriage fall apart and getting a divorce, she’d been too busy for a wonderful life.
Those days were over now. No more fights about money. No more fights about how she mismanaged her time or how impetuous and irresponsible she was. No more fights about...well, you name it.
When they were first married, Serge had loved her spontaneity, her joie de vivre. After a year he developed a vision problem and saw only her flaws. They fought about everything from money to the amount of time she spent with her friends. “I don’t know what we’re doing together.” Serge had finally stormed one night, throwing up his hands.
Neither did she. So Serge had moved out and moved on. She’d run into him at the Last Supper Club six months after the divorce was final, when she was trying to enjoy a night out with the girls. He’d been with a skinny tattoo queen sporting maroon hair and ear gauges. And he’d complained about how impulsive Jen was?
She’d wanted to hit him and his new woman, too. Instead, she’d buried herself in the crowd and danced until her feet and her heart were numb. Good riddance, she’d told herself, but later that night she’d cried herself to sleep.
Now it had been a year since the big D and she was so over him and so moving on.
Now she was in charge of her own destiny, her own life, and that was fine with her.
Except so far this new life wasn’t exactly playing out as she’d envisioned. When a girl hardly had time to wash her bra, she was in trouble. When was she supposed to squeeze in things like dating? And if she didn’t even have time to date, well, what was that going to do to her sex life?
She scowled. Many of her friends were now having babies and she’d love to have one of her own. She sure didn’t see a bassinet on her horizon, though. At thirty-two, were her eggs giving up all hope of ever meeting a sperm?
Well, girls, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ll just have to hang in there because right now I don’t have time to find a new man. There was a depressing thought.
Jen caught her bus on Marion Street. It was crowded as usual with tired workers, students, street people and shoppers carrying bags crammed with merchandise. Standing room only. That made her grumpier.
Oh, heck, everything made her grumpy these days. Maybe it was living in the city, crammed in with so many other people. What would it be like to have a cute little house in a small town or a cottage in a mountain meadow? What would it be like to hark back to a simpler time, a simpler lifestyle?
She thought of the book her sister had given her for her birthday the month before—Simplicity. She’d been trying to read a little of it every night before she went to bed, but she couldn’t seem to get past page one. She’d wake up halfway through the night with the book on her face.
She’d managed to get through the blurb on the back of the book, though, and it sounded impressive. The author insisted that anyone, no matter how busy, could simplify her life. It was a matter of prioritizing and letting your days slow down and fall into a natural rhythm in sync with nature.
What would her life be like if she lived it at a slower pace? What if she took a few minutes to sit by her condo window and watch the snow fall (not that much snow ever fell in Seattle), instead of running around like a gerbil on a wheel, dashing from event to event, working at a feverish pace so she could live the good life? When it came right down to it, was her life that good? She was racing through it so fast, she had no time to savor any of it. It would be nice to learn how to bake bread, grow a garden, knit. Date! Heck, it would be nice to have time to breathe.
The bus lurched to a stop and a fortysomething woman got on, balancing a huge armful of purchases, shopping bags dangling from her fingers. She squeezed in between Jen and an older man in an overcoat that smelled of damp wool. The newcomer smelled like perfume overload and Jen sneezed.
“Bless you,” said an older woman who was occupying a seat behind where Jen stood.
“Thank you,” Jen murmured.
The newcomer grabbed for a hand rail and bumped Jen with one of her bags. That, plus the sudden forward motion of the bus, nearly sent Jen toppling into the lap of the older woman. “Sorry,” she muttered.
