Waves of Love (Surf’s Up Book 1) by Lori Ann Mitchell Page B

“I’ve been trying to bring more culture to this town and have been toying with asking local authors to come in and read and sign their books. You know, serve coffee and open up the floor for discussion. I think a cute kid like you, with his own book, could be just the event to kickoff my Summer Reading Series.”
                  “For real?”
                  She nodded, stomach fluttering with disappointment as he checked out the thick, black waterproof watch on his bony wrist. “For real,” she said.
                  “That’s great, uh… uh?” He fumbled for her name.
                  “Sage,” she said, handing him a business card from the rack on top of the pastry counter. “Sage Drake.”
                  “Awesome, Sage, so listen…” He was already heading for the door. “I’ve got to see the realtor about a place to stay, but… can I call you later?”
              She chuckled. “My cell number’s on there.”
                  He slid it into a backpack pocket, no doubt to be forgotten quickly. “Great,” he said, turning to rush from the store. He paused, fingers on the knob, half-in, half-out, to say, “And thanks for breakfast!”
                  She sighed.
    “Anytime,” she said to the closed door.
     

Chapter Two
     
                 
                  Derek Chambers stood on the deck and watched the ocean roar. How many decks had he stood on? How many oceans had he watched roll in, the waves crashing and fizzing? How many deposit checks had he signed over the years?
                  “… marble countertops and brand new fixtures in the kitchen,” the realtor was mumbling, still half-in, half-out of the sliding glass door that led out to the deck, as if preferring to stay inside. “All new ceiling fans upstairs…”
                  He turned to her, smiling. Her name was Mildred Proust and she ran Proust Properties. She was in her mid-50s, heavyset, kind and generous. “I hate to keep running you around,” he said, gently, watching her face fall and then quickly recover. “And don’t get me wrong, the place is beautiful, but… I’m looking for something more rustic.”
                  Mildred was quick; she didn’t miss a beat. “And what would a twenty-two year old know about rustic?” she teased him.
                  He chuckled. She’d been tossing off one-liners all afternoon. “I must have read it on a blog somewhere,” he confessed. “And while we’re at it, is there anything…” He paused, not wanting to give away his true intent too quickly. “I don’t know, closer to downtown?”
                  Her face wrinkled a bit as she drifted closer. “Well, this is two blocks from Crescent Street, which is where most of the locals surf.”
                  He nodded. “I really like that Sequels coffee shop,” he said, casually, as if it was the last thing on his mind, rather than the first. “Got anything near the beach there?”
                  Derek watched one of Mildred’s eyebrows arch while a crooked smile formed on her round, pleasant face. “Does it have to be direct oceanfront?”
                  His stomach fluttered with opportunity. “It never did.”
                  “Then I think I have just the thing for you, Derek.”
                  They began walking toward downtown Seaside Heights, Derek admiring the wide sidewalks and half-dozen surf shops they passed on the way. By the end of the week, he hoped, he’d have a book display in every window!
                  “How long have you lived here?” he asked about halfway there.
                  Mildred smiled. “Born and bred,” she said proudly, slightly winded from the trek. She’d wanted to take her car, but since he was looking for