Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove Book 1)

By: Melody Grace

Thank you for reading!

Sweetbriar Cove is the start of a new series for me, set in a charming small town on Cape Cod.

I have tons of happy memories of New England, and it was so much fun inventing the town - and all its inhabitants. Poppy, the heroine of Meant to Be, starts out a stranger, but soon falls for the town… and a certain handsome contractor next door.





I hope you enjoy reading Meant to Be as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. So pack your sunscreen, take a mini-vacation, and enjoy a taste of summer, wherever you are.

xo Melody






Book One

MEANT TO BE





Poppy Somerville believes in happily-ever-after. It’s the reason her romance novels have won devoted readers all over the world – and why she’s broken off her engagement just weeks before the wedding instead of settling for less than true love. Escaping to her aunt’s beach cottage in Sweetbriar Cove, Poppy is looking for inspiration to end her writer’s block and finish her new book. She just wasn’t counting on the handsome, gruff contractor making such a racket next door…

Cooper Nicholson doesn’t believe in soul-mates. He thought he’d found his forever once, and the world proved him wrong, so when the cute brunette comes storming over and demands he keep the noise down, romance is the last thing on his mind. But his new neighbor is full of surprises, and soon, their chemistry is too hot to ignore.

As they grow closer, they discover fiction has nothing on the plot twists life has in store. But will Cooper find a way to let go of the past and risk his heart again? And can Poppy find her happy ending – on and off the page?

Find out in the new sweet and sexy small-town romance from New York Times bestselling author, Melody Grace!

The Sweetbriar Cove Series:

1. Meant to Be

2. All for You

3. The Only One

4. I’m Yours

5. Holiday Kisses (A Christmas Story)

6. No Ordinary Love

7. Wildest Dreams

8. This Kiss





1





Poppy Somerville believed in soulmates.

Call her crazy, or naïve, or hopelessly romantic if you want—she’d heard it all. But ever since she sneaked her first drugstore romance novel to read under the covers at night, she’d believed. That there was someone for everyone; a pot for every lid. A place her heart could find a home.

It’s what made her race through the works of Jane Austen by the time she was fifteen, and sing along with every love song on the radio, and sit up nights watching classic old windswept movies while her college friends were out drinking in the rowdy bars on State Street on a Friday night. It’s why, when she finally sat down to write her very own book, a love story was the only thing on her mind. Now, a few years and half a dozen novels later, she had millions of readers all over the world—because they wanted to believe, too.

Some people rolled their eyes, but Poppy didn’t care. She figured there was something brave about that kind of hope, especially with so much darkness in the world. Love was worth taking a risk on, no matter how easy it seemed just to play it safe and settle for something less than The One.

So why did she have a tight knot in the pit of her stomach just thinking about the wedding that should have been happening twenty thousand feet below her right now?

She could picture it perfectly—she’d selected every detail. She knew the music that would have been playing, the white roses decorating the chapel pews. It was her dream wedding from start to finish—and it was all still just a dream. Because she’d broken things off just two weeks before the ceremony. Now, instead of saying her vows and entering into holy wedded matrimony, she was squished into the coach section of a last-minute puddle-jumper flight, trying to put as many miles as possible between her and the wedding-that-wasn’t.

“Don’t worry, it’s nearly over.”

Poppy snapped her head around.

The lady in the next seat paused her knitting and offered a sympathetic smile. “We’ll be landing soon. This is always a bumpy ride, those Atlantic winds.”

“Uh huh.” Poppy managed a faint reply. She was gripping the armrest so hard, her knuckles were turning white. Her stomach had been churning for an hour now, but she didn’t know if it was the choppy flight making her feel so uneasy—or regret that she’d thrown away what could have been her one chance at happiness, someone to share her life with forever.

The plane lurched, and Poppy bit back a whimper.

It was the turbulence, she told herself. Definitely the flight.

“Do you want to try and take your mind off it?” the woman asked, friendly. “I have a book you can read, if you’d like.”

She rummaged in her purse, then pulled out a paperback. Poppy recognized the cover in an instant. It was her first book—the one that had propelled her from beavering away at a tiny cubicle at a temp job in the city, to . . . beavering away in a tiny office in her apartment, instead. Contrary to popular opinion, bestselling authors weren’t all jet-setting around the world to exotic locations. The advance on that book had barely paid off the last of her student loans and bought a good bottle of wine to celebrate. But still, toasting the deal that night, she’d never been prouder. And even though her deals had grown along with her readership, Poppy knew that doing what she loved every day was the real prize.