Righting a Wrong by Rachael Anderson
Seven years ago, Cambri Blaine fled her small hometown of Bridger, Colorado after her senior year ended in a fiasco. Only Jace Sutton knew the real reason why—that she was a spineless coward. Now, seven years later, her father's been in an accident and needs help, and Cambr has no choice but to return home. So with trepidation, she takes a leave of absence from the landscape architecture firm where she works and boards a plane, hoping against hope that Jace is no longer around and that the past can stay where it belongs—in the past.
If only life worked that way.
Jace never expected to see Cambri again. After she’d led him on, bruised his heart, and left town without a backward glance, he was forced to pick up the pieces and try not to hate her for it. Eventually, he put it behind him and moved on, creating a life for himself in his beloved hometown. But now that Cambri is back and looking more beautiful and sophisticated than ever, some of those old feelings resurface, and Jake instinctively knows, for the sake of his heart, that he needs to avoid her at all costs.
If only it were that easy.
A USA Today bestselling author, Rachael Anderson is the mother of four and is pretty good at breaking up fights, or at least sending guilty parties to their rooms. She can't sing, doesn't dance, and despises tragedies. But she recently figured out how yeast works and can now make homemade bread, which she is really good at eating.
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Her father eyed her hand with disdain. “I feel fine. I don’t need a bunch of medication to mess that all up.”
“No medication, no breakfast.” Cambri wriggled her palm.
“What’s for breakfast?”
Her eyebrow lifted. “I can tell you it’s not the fatted calf.”
Although he harrumphed, a twinkle of humor appeared. “I almost forgot how cheeky you could be.”
“And I almost forgot how ornery you could be.”
He rolled his eyes, but grudgingly accepted the pills, swallowing them with a sip of water. Then he settled back against his pillow. “I always have sausage, eggs, and hash browns on Saturdays.”
“Believe it or not, I remember.” Cambri retrieved a breakfast tray from the kitchen and set it on his lap, mentally preparing herself for what would come.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Her father stared at the food in disgust.
“Oatmeal, whole wheat toast, and freshly squeezed OJ,” said Cambri smoothly. “Try it. You might like it.”
“Why isn’t there butter on this toast? Where’s my sausage and hash browns?”
“Your heart doesn’t want bacon and hash browns. It wants oatmeal.”