Spotlight: Room for Us by L.M. Halloran

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

Ethan Hart thinks I’m his maid. Too bad I need his money more than my pride. 

The intense, arrogant author has booked my entire Inn to write his next fictional masterpiece. 

I have no choice but to put up with his demands.

Breakfast is a daily endurance test. 

Making his bed and doing his wash? A different kind of torture. 

And that’s not even the worst part.

With his haunted eyes, frozen heart, and heated touch, 

Ethan makes me burn in ways I swore I never would again.

There’s no place in my life for him, nor in his for me. 

But six weeks together might create...

Just enough room for us.

Exclusive Excerpt

That’s odd. I study the screen of my newly replaced cell phone. The number I called only rang three times before disconnecting. No voicemail. What kind of inn doesn’t have a voicemail?

Not to be deterred, I call back. This time there’s two rings, then nothing. I press Send again. 

One ring—nothing.

Now I’m annoyed. I call again. And again. Six times total before the line abruptly opens and a woman snaps, “What do you want?”

I’m so stunned I can’t speak. 

“Hello?” she repeats, voice dripping acid. “Chris, if that’s you, I told you I never want to talk to you again! I’ve moved on. I don’t need you, your stupid alimony, or your half-assed justifications. Grow up!”

I almost hang up. I want nothing to do with anything that just came out of this woman’s mouth. And yet… there’s something in her voice, something I can’t quite put my finger on. Lurking beneath the rage, hidden by slicing consonants and cool vowels. Then I realize what it is.

Pain.

And like a weight has been lifted from my chest, I can suddenly speak. 

“Is this the right number for Rose House Inn in Sun River?”

In the following silence, I imagine her horror and mortification. I must be a bit of a sadist, because it makes me smile.

“I’m so sorry.” A gutted whisper. “Please don’t hang up. I-I thought you were someone else.”

“Obviously.” 

I pause, weighing the wisdom of what I’m about to do. Every other goddamn hotel, motel, and rental in the area is booked because of some upcoming film festival. When I stumbled on the website for Rose House late last night, the online booking was wide-open. A red flag all on its own, but desperation trumped logic. Unfortunately, there was no option to book the entire house online. Hence this absurd phone call.

If this is the standard of customer service offered at the Rose House, at least I now have some idea why it isn’t bursting with bookings. And what I can expect to endure.

“Sir? Are you still there? Again, I’m so sorry. Can we start over? My name is Zoey Kemper and I’m the new owner of Rose House. I’d love to discuss your needs.” 

“I’m here. Give me a second to decide whether or not to hang up.”

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About L.M. Halloran

When not writing or reading, the author enjoys walking barefoot, subjecting her husband to questionable recipes, and chasing her spirited daughter. She’s a rabid fan of coffee, moon-gazing, and small dogs that resemble Ewoks. Home is Portland, Oregon.

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