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"You can't go wrong here," Maeve said between sips of coffee. "Annie knows food. I try to eat something different every day. Sometimes it's just a muffin and coffee, other times it's waffles and bacon. She has breakfast sandwiches too. Especially good if you're in a hurry or want takeout."

"Good to know." Annie poured me a steaming cup of dark coffee in a pristine white cup and left me with a tiny carafe of creamer. "Have you always lived in Lost Creek?"

She nodded. "I spent a few summers with an aunt in New York, but otherwise, yes. Where did you say you were from? Tampa?"

Maeve remembered everything I offered that first day in this very cafe, but I indulged her. "I've been living in Tampa for the last few years, but I'm from an island further south. Calusa Key."

"Ah yes, that's right. A friend sent me a postcard from there once. Lots of shells."

I loved my island with its sleepy oaks and beaches perfect for shell hunting.

"How are you liking Lost Creek? It's very different."

"It is, but there are strange things that remind me of home. The wind, the nature, even the people. An island is a small town. We have our gossips, or quirky regulars, and people who visit us because of our environment. You have ODX, the river, and the mountains. We have fishing charters, beaches, and the Gulf." I shrugged. "It makes sense to me."

"No, no, it makes perfect sense. Both places are destinations for adventure seekers and lovers of the outdoors. I'm so happy you've found a bit of home here with us. And Huk."

And there it was. "Why don't you just ask me what you are clearly dying to ask me?" I sat back while Annie placed my breakfast in front of me. She shot me a wink and then glared at Maeve.

Maeve studied me while I cut into my omelet and then sliced my sausage into four equal bites before diving into the hash browns first.

"I know you expect me to be silly and salacious, but that's just me having fun at book club. While I do love being the first to know everything that happens in Lost Creek, I'm not unkind. I'm not going to ask you if he's good in bed or if he has a giant dong." She held her hands up wider, then shorter, then wider again as she bounced her eyebrows.

"If I tell you Jackson needs no help in the bedroom, will you leave the rest alone?"

Her eyes danced. "It'll buy you a decent reprieve. I absolutely adore that you call him Jackson. Does he have a nickname for you?"

I tried to focus really hard on finding the perfect bite of omelet, mixing the drizzle of special sauce with a mushroom and whatever else was in this egg delight, but I failed miserably at hiding the blush that turned my cheeks pink and singed the tips of my ears.

"He does! Oh, I am loving all of this. You two are like a real-life romance novel playing out before our very eyes."

She chatted aimlessly while I ate, telling me about people I had yet to meet, other interesting businesses that were not part of this strip of buildings, and the history of the town and how it was named. "A man named Silas McCade was exploring the area and swore he found the most beautiful creek with perfect weather, perfect fishing, perfect everything. He declared it heaven on earth, the Garden of Eden, and rounded up friends and family and they all made the trek up here...only he couldn't find the creek. They tried all summer long to locate it and then finally decided this little slice of paradise was just as wonderful and, in an eternal joke to old Silas, named it Lost Creek. Everything in the area took on the name as more people escaped into the mountains."

"Are there still McCades around?" I pushed back my plate, full and happy.

"There are, but that's a story for another day." And the tone of her voice made it clear that there would be no further discussion on that topic. " But what about you? How is your work going?"

I blew out a long breath. "Not the way I would like."

She studied me some more and I half expected her to pull out some tarot cards. Her lips pinched like she was going to say something, then thought better of it, then changed her mind two more times.

"Say whatever is on your mind, Maeve. It can't hurt."

"I'm getting the same clogged energy from you that I got from Sharon a long time ago. You're blocked."

"That I am." I held up my coffee like I was toasting her. I was still pissed at myself. I really thought confronting my ghost friends and admitting how much this story meant to me would open up the channels.

It was clear now that wasn't happening.

"You're afraid," she said slowly, still studying. "And fear will do it every time, but it's often not what you think it is."

I could roll out a pretty good list of the things I was afraid of at this point. Disappointing my readers, writing a terrible book, and unexpectedly meeting my stalker were right at the top of the list, but they were just the top.

She suddenly sat bolt upright. "Love! It's the answer. It always is though, if I'm being honest." She covered my hand with hers. "Your love is blocked or," she cocked her head again, "it never flowed properly in the first place. You...you are an abundance of love. You should be spreading it, infusing everyone around you with it, and until you can, you won't be able to move forward."

Next thing she'd be reading my aura or having a seance with my dead friends.No thank you.I was about to pull away and, quite frankly,runaway from this madness when she clamped her fingers so hard it almost hurt. I stared at the contrast of her white knuckles against her dark skin wondering if she was about to channel a spirit.

"Come with me."