Home > Work > Mine Until Moonrise (Lost Harbor, Alaska, #1)
1 " Fine. But I estimate you have about a twenty-one percent chance of making a profit.” “Really? That actually gives me hope, Dev. Thanks. I figured it was more like negative five percent.” “That might be more accurate,” he admitted. She hated to say it, but Dev was probably right. Her main problem was that the cost of fuel kept rising. Or maybe it was that boat repairs were expensive and the Forget Me Not had more leaks than a salad spinner. Or that she couldn’t steer a boat and be a guide at the same time, and therefore had to hire Captain Kid. Or that she couldn’t afford her own office and therefore had to rent a virtual closet in the back of the Jack Hammer Fishing Charters office. The receptionist, Carla, only answered the Forget Me Not Nature Tours phone line when she wasn’t busy. Plenty of potential bookings went straight to voicemail. Or maybe her biggest problem was that her "
― Jennifer Bernard , Mine Until Moonrise (Lost Harbor, Alaska, #1)
2 " Too bad about that Caspian tern,” and “Where’s the nearest restroom?” She was in the midst of pointing it out when Lucas Holt strode past. He’d shucked his waders and wore work pants tucked into rubber boots, along with an obviously hand-knit sweater the color of smoke. It smelled like smoke, too—like wood smoke curling through crystal clear air on a winter’s night. She had a quick image of him kneeling next to a campfire, blowing on the flames, while she snuggled under a blanket to keep warm. She shook it off. It was just a fantasy, because she and Lucas Holt would never find themselves camping together, anywhere. She’d rather run into Lost Souls Wilderness across the bay and take her chances with the bears. Usually Lucas ignored her and her passengers. They weren’t his speed; they didn’t bring coolers of beer on the boat or boast about the size of their last catch. But this time he paused and cast a charming smile across her little crew of elderly naturalists. “Sorry about the close call out there. I’m training a new guy. He still has a few things to learn. I hope no one got wet because of that bonehead move.” Lucas had dark hair and dark stubble and dark eyes and no wonder she secretly called him Lucifer. But he was good-looking; she had to admit that. Not that it mattered. Character was what counted. Not looks. “You’re seriously going to blame your crew?” she asked. A hint of irritation crossed his face. She hated the way he always looked at her—as if she was a frivolous birdbrain hippie chick. She had part of a PhD, for pete’s sake. But that seemed to mean nothing to him, even though she’d mentioned it more than once. “Just explaining what happened. He got a little carried away. He won’t do it again.” “I hope not because I have witnesses. And I’d really prefer not to go the harbormaster again.” His dark eyebrows quirked together. “On the one hand, I doubt that’s true, because I’m sure it gives you a special kind of joy to report on me. On the other hand, maybe it is true because I hear it didn’t go so well the last time.” She gritted her teeth together. Unfortunately, he had a point. After her third trip to the harbormaster’s office, she’d decided there had to be better ways to handle her feud with Lucas. Sadly, she hadn’t figured them out yet. “I am not easily deterred,” she said stoutly. “Especially when it comes to Ruby’s safety.” Lucas smiled down at Ruby, who glowed back at him. Darn him. That smile changed things in an unfortunate way. If he ever smiled at her like that… She sighed. Luckily, there was no chance of such a thing. "
3 " It couldn’t be good that Megan’s passengers were singing the theme song from Gilligan’s Island—“a tale of a fateful trip.” Or that two of them were snoring loudly. Halfway back to Lost Harbor and they still hadn’t sighted anything for the tourists to write home about. She’d better come up with something fast, or her online reviews were going to be brutal. "
4 " They were just passing Bird Rock, "
5 " couldn’t be good that Megan’s passengers were singing the theme song from Gilligan’s Island—“a tale of a fateful trip.” Or that two of them were snoring loudly. "
