Christina Lorenzen is the author of six sweet, small town romances. When she's not writing she can be found herding her cats or reading on her backyard swing. Learn more about Christina and her books at her website.
As a child, I was blessed with parents who loved to travel. Whenever my father had vacation time, he would plan a family trip to a number of destinations along the east coast. But the trips that were most memorable were the summer trips we took to my mother’s grandparents’ house in the small town of Marion, Massachusetts.
The five-hour car ride from our home in New York to my grandparents’ home in Massachusetts was always an adventure. My mother would pack our favorite snacks, and as we crossed from state to state my dad would play the license plate game with us as he drove. I can still remember how excited my brother and I were as we called out the license plates we spotted on other cars traveling the interstate. We always looked forward to stopping at the roadside Howard Johnson’s for lunch and a box of saltwater taffy. It was one of our summer traditions. But it was nothing compared to our squeals as we came upon that sign. Entering Marion. It was our signal that we were just minutes away from Nana’s house.
I can still hear the crunch of the white gravel as my father drove down the long driveway that led to the back of the house. As I look back now, I have to wonder if my grandmother heard it, too, because she was out the back door within seconds of our arriving. After all the hugging and ‘look how big you’ve gotten’s, my brother and I would run upstairs to the small room we shared, aptly called the twin room for the set of twin beds it housed. As the oldest I always grabbed the bed closest to the window. I used to love to lie in bed before drifting off to sleep and stare at the cape ceilings. I think I had every crack and line memorized.
Our visits usually lasted anywhere from a week to ten days, dependent upon my dad’s vacation time from work. During that week or so, we spent all of our time with my grandparents, my aunt and my three cousins, all of them girls. My poor brother! He truly was the odd man out, but even still we all had fun together. We loved playing out in my grandfather’s huge backyard that seemed endless with its strawberry and raspberry patches. There were also a dozen fruit trees – pears, apples, peaches and plums. My grandfather was a farmer, and my grandmother knew how to can and preserve everything that grew in those gardens. But the best days were the days we spent at Silvershell Beach.
It was these memories, times spent on the sand and splashing in the ocean, that prompted me to write The Silvershell Beach Inn. What better way to honor my Massachusetts family than with a sweet romance on the beach where we spent all of our childhood summers? Of course the beautiful inn in the story is fictional. But all those memories I have of those summers on the beach? Those are the real deal and I will always hold them near to my heart.
The Silvershell Beach Inn
Blindsided by a broken engagement, Jacy Penna hastily throws an overnight bag together and leaves New York City, heading to the place that never changes - her grandmother’s house in the small town of Marion, Massachusetts. But in her haste she forgot about Zach Silva, the local boy that broke her heart when she was fifteen years old. Hoping to spend some time reliving sweet memories of summers past with her grandmother, Jacy is blindsided again when she finds out her grandmother has sold the house – to Zach Silva’s family. Determined to avoid running into Zach during her short visit, Jacy soon finds out that while nothing stays the same, love endures.
Zach Silva has come home to The Silvershell Beach Inn, his family’s elegant seaside inn, for as long as it takes to step down from his part in the family business. Sure his life is back in New York City, he’s ready to leave small town Marion in his rear view mirror. But he’s never completely forgotten the summer he said goodbye to his teenage sweetheart, Jacy Penna.
Always fond of Jacy’s grandmother, he convinced his family to buy Jacy’s grandmother’s house and bring the aging grandmother to cook at the inn. Augusta’s Portuguese specialty meals will bring a touch of the Silva family’s culture to the Inn. He hasn’t heard a word about Jacy in years. Sure she’ll never return to Marion, he’s shocked to find her sunning on Silvershell Beach. Seeing Jacy brings back too many memories and he begins to doubt his future plans.
Will one weekend back in the small town where memories of summer love still haunt them both be enough to help Jacy forgive and Zach find where his future really lies?