Ripe For Reader: Excerpt Tour - THE RIVER HOUSE by Carla Neggers

From New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers comes the next standalone novel in her Swift River Valley Series, THE RIVER HOUSE!

In this charming novel about the search for love, home and family, THE RIVER HOUSE takes readers on a journey to an irresistible town they’ll want to return to over and over again. Order your copy today!

Felicity MacGregor loves organizing social events for others but her own personal life is a different story. After a brief but failed attempt at a career as a financial analyst, she returned to Knights Bridge where she enjoys running a thriving party-planning business.

Then Felicity’s life gets a shake-up when her childhood friend Gabriel Flanagan returns unexpectedly to their tiny hometown. Now a high-flying businessman, Gabe always vowed to get out of Knights Bridge, but he is back for the local entrepreneurial boot camp Felicity’s been hired to organize. Together again, they’ll finally have to face each other—and their complicated past.

Gabe and Felicity soon realize their reunion is stirring up long-buried emotions. While Gabe has big plans for his future, Felicity is discovering that hers doesn’t depend on fate—she must choose what’s right for her. But if they can find a bridge between their diverging paths, they may just discover that their enduring connection is what matters most.

Order THE RIVER HOUSE here!
Amazon| Kindle | Barnes &Noble | B-A-M | IndieBound
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And don’t miss the first standalone titles in the Swift River Valley series!
SECRETS OF THE LOST SUMMER
THAT NIGHT ON THISTLE LANE
CIDER BROOK
CHRISTMAS AT CARRIAGE HILL
ECHO LAKE
SPRING AT MOSS HILL
A KNIGHTS BRIDGE CHRISTMAS
RED CLOVER INN

“Mixing humor, nostalgia, a dose of regret, plus just enough drama to keep things interesting, Neggers’ eighth Swift River Valley novel is a potent friends to lovers story.” ~RT Book Reviews

They walked down the hall to the sunroom and went out that way through sliding glass doors to a trim lawn and garden bursting with summer flowers. It was hot, but they edged onto a shaded, paved walkway, suitable for canes, walkers and wheelchairs. Gabe noticed his grandfather moved well, if more slowly than just a year ago. “How was California?” he asked.

“Sunny,” Gabe said with a grin.

“You moving out there?”

“I toyed with the idea of relocating there.”

They passed through pine-scented shade. “You could move me out with you. Sun shines all the time. I don’t mind assisted living, but I knew every old lady in this place when we were kids. One more reminds me I wet my pants in first grade and I’m packing up and living in my car.”

Gabe grinned at the old man. “Mark says you have a crush on Daisy Farrell.”

“Wouldn’t do me any good if I did. Daisy was and always will be Tom Farrell’s gal.”

Gabe remembered Tom Farrell, a longtime Knights Bridge fire chief who’d died a couple of years ago. “At least you have friends here.”

“A few old cranks, too, but not many. I’m not as hard on people as I was as a younger man. Getting old isn’t for the faint-hearted, that’s for sure. Thought I’d be in an urn by now.”

Gabe wasn’t surprised by his grandfather’s blunt manner, but he hadn’t had a dose of it in a while. “Instead you’re here talking to me. Imagine that.”

“Yeah. My hotshot grandson.” He slowed his pace, then paused by a patch of daisies. “You’re going to be an uncle. That change things for you?”

“It’s a factor.”

His grandfather peered at him. “A factor? It’s not like you’re buying a used car and its mileage is a ‘factor.’”

“Well, it would be,” Gabe said lightly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Cut me some slack.”

“Ha. You stayed with Felicity MacGregor.” He waved a hand. “Not asking.”

“I sat out by the fire in your old fireplace. Alone.”

His grandfather raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

Gabe grinned. “Mostly alone, but it’s not what you think.” Time to change the subject. “I should stop and see Dad on the way out of town.”

“He’s on his way here. He got wind of a Jane Austen tea party this afternoon and wants to talk me into dressing up as a Regency guy. He doesn’t fit into any of the tights or I swear he’d do it. Say what you will about your father, he’s game for anything.”

“Do you fit into the tights?” Gabe asked, amused.

“It doesn’t matter. I’d never get them off and I’m not asking one of the aides to help me.”

“The sight of you in tights would get all the old ladies excited.”

“The sight of you in tights would.”

Gabe let that comment slide past him. They resumed their walk, the path looping past empty birdfeeders, ready to be filled for winter, back toward the sunroom.