Women's Fiction
![Debbie Macomber - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B000AQ451E.jpg)
A Bright New Day: A 2-in-1 Collection: Borrowed Dreams and The Trouble with Caasi
Available in one book for the first time: Borrowed Dreams and The Trouble with Caasi, two of Debbie Macomber's classic novels that explore the power of love and family
Borrowed Dreams: Carly Grieves is made of strong stuff. Tough and adventurous, she journeys to the wilds of Alaska looking for a new beginning, but she finds more than she bargained for in Brand St. Clair, a rugged bush pilot. Something about him stirs a primal longing inside Carly, but he's a man with wounds, a widower stuck in the past. Carly desires him deeply, yet how can she compete with a dead woman for a place in his heart? Despite his painful past, Brand is ready to make his own fresh start with Carly, until he discovers she too has walls that must come down. Now Brand won't give up until he convinces Carly that the biggest risk of her life is actually the safest move she could make: loving him.
The Trouble with Caasi: A driven workaholic, CEO Caasi Crane has sacrificed all semblance of a personal life to build a West Coast hotel empire. But everything she's built comes into question when her top manager, Blake Sherrill, abruptly resigns. Caasi can't figure out why it hurts so much to lose him, and why she so desperately misses his presence not only in the office but also in her heart. Once Blake decides to leave, he unexpectedly gets what he's wanted all along: Caasi's undivided attention. Blake is excellent at his job and he knows it. While Caasi begs him to come back to work, he delays his response and tries to convince Caasi there's more to life than a career. Can Blake help her see the love that's waiting for her? A love strong enough to last a lifetime.
Borrowed Dreams: Carly Grieves is made of strong stuff. Tough and adventurous, she journeys to the wilds of Alaska looking for a new beginning, but she finds more than she bargained for in Brand St. Clair, a rugged bush pilot. Something about him stirs a primal longing inside Carly, but he's a man with wounds, a widower stuck in the past. Carly desires him deeply, yet how can she compete with a dead woman for a place in his heart? Despite his painful past, Brand is ready to make his own fresh start with Carly, until he discovers she too has walls that must come down. Now Brand won't give up until he convinces Carly that the biggest risk of her life is actually the safest move she could make: loving him.
The Trouble with Caasi: A driven workaholic, CEO Caasi Crane has sacrificed all semblance of a personal life to build a West Coast hotel empire. But everything she's built comes into question when her top manager, Blake Sherrill, abruptly resigns. Caasi can't figure out why it hurts so much to lose him, and why she so desperately misses his presence not only in the office but also in her heart. Once Blake decides to leave, he unexpectedly gets what he's wanted all along: Caasi's undivided attention. Blake is excellent at his job and he knows it. While Caasi begs him to come back to work, he delays his response and tries to convince Caasi there's more to life than a career. Can Blake help her see the love that's waiting for her? A love strong enough to last a lifetime.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter One
"Don't worry about a thing," George Hamlyn stated casually on his way out the door.
"Yes . . . but-" Carly Grieves interrupted. This was her first day on the job in Anchorage, Alaska, and she was hoping for a few more instructions. "But . . . what would you like me to do?"
"Take any phone messages and straighten the place up a bit. That should keep you busy for the day." He removed his faded cap and wiped his forearm across his wide brow as he paused just inside the open doorway.
All day! Carly mused irritably. "What time should I expect you back?"
"Not until afternoon at the earliest. I'm late now." His voice was tinged with impatience. "A couple of drivers will be checking in soon. They have their instructions."
Fleetingly, Carly wondered if their orders were as vague as her own.
"See you later." George tossed her a half-smile and was out the door before she could form another protest.
Carly dropped both hands lifelessly to her sides in frustrated displeasure. How could George possibly expect her to manage the entire office on her own? But, apparently, he did just that. On her first day, no less. With only a minimum of instruction, she was to take over the management of Alaska Freight Forwarding in her employer's absence.
"Didn't Diana warn you this would happen?" She spoke out loud, standing in the middle of the room, feeling hopelessly inadequate. Good heavens, what had she gotten herself into with this job?
Hands on hips, Carly surveyed the room's messy interior. George had explained, apologetically, that his last traffic supervisor had left three months ago. One look at the office confirmed his statement. She couldn't help wonder how anyone could run a profitable business in such chaos. The long counter was covered with order forms and a variety of correspondence, some stained with dried coffee; the ashtray that sat at one end was filled to overflowing. Cardboard boxes littered the floor, some stacked as high as the ceiling. The two desks were a disaster; a second full ashtray rested in the center of hers, on top of stacked papers, and empty coffee mugs dotted its once polished wood surface. The air was heavy with the smell of stale tobacco.
Forcefully expelling an uneven sigh, Carly paused and wound a strand of rich brown hair around her ear.
Straighten the place up a bit! Her mind mimicked George's words. She hadn't come all the way from Seattle to clean offices. Her title was traffic supervisor, not janitor!
Annoyed with herself for letting George walk all over her, Carly got her desk in reasonable order and straightened the papers on the counter. She grimaced as she examined the inside of the coffeepot. It looked like someone had dumped chocolate syrup in it. She guessed it had never been washed.
When the phone rang, she answered in a brisk, professional tone. "Alaska Freight Forwarding."
A short hesitation followed. "Who's this?"
Squaring her shoulders, she replied crisply, "Carly Grieves. May I ask who's calling?"
The man at the other end of the line ignored the question. "Let me talk to George."
It seemed no one in Alaska had manners. "George is out for the day. May I ask who's calling?"
Whoever was on the line let out a curse.
"I beg your pardon?"
"When do you expect him back?"
"Well, Mr. Blanky Blank, I can't rightly say."
"I'll be there in ten minutes." With that, he abruptly severed their connection.
Sighing, Carly replaced the receiver. Apparently Mr. Blanky Blank thought she could tell him something more in person.
A few minutes later, the door burst open and a man as lean and serious as an arctic wolf strode briskly inside and stopped just short of the counter. Dark flecks sparked with interest in eyes that were wide and deeply set. He was dressed in a faded jean jacket and worn jeans, and his Western-style, checkered shirt was open at the throat to reveal a broad chest with a sprinkling of curly, dark hair.
"Carly Grieves?" he questioned as his mouth quirked into a coaxing smile.
"Mr. Blanky Blank?" she returned, and smiled. His lean face was tanned from exposure to the elements. The dark, wind-tossed hair was indifferent to any style. This man was earthy and perhaps a little wild-the kind of wild that immediately gave women the desire to tame. Carly was no exception.
"Brand St. Clair," he murmured, his friendly eyes not leaving hers as he extended his hand.
Her own much smaller hand was enveloped in his calloused, roughened o...
"Don't worry about a thing," George Hamlyn stated casually on his way out the door.
"Yes . . . but-" Carly Grieves interrupted. This was her first day on the job in Anchorage, Alaska, and she was hoping for a few more instructions. "But . . . what would you like me to do?"
"Take any phone messages and straighten the place up a bit. That should keep you busy for the day." He removed his faded cap and wiped his forearm across his wide brow as he paused just inside the open doorway.
All day! Carly mused irritably. "What time should I expect you back?"
"Not until afternoon at the earliest. I'm late now." His voice was tinged with impatience. "A couple of drivers will be checking in soon. They have their instructions."
Fleetingly, Carly wondered if their orders were as vague as her own.
"See you later." George tossed her a half-smile and was out the door before she could form another protest.
Carly dropped both hands lifelessly to her sides in frustrated displeasure. How could George possibly expect her to manage the entire office on her own? But, apparently, he did just that. On her first day, no less. With only a minimum of instruction, she was to take over the management of Alaska Freight Forwarding in her employer's absence.
"Didn't Diana warn you this would happen?" She spoke out loud, standing in the middle of the room, feeling hopelessly inadequate. Good heavens, what had she gotten herself into with this job?
Hands on hips, Carly surveyed the room's messy interior. George had explained, apologetically, that his last traffic supervisor had left three months ago. One look at the office confirmed his statement. She couldn't help wonder how anyone could run a profitable business in such chaos. The long counter was covered with order forms and a variety of correspondence, some stained with dried coffee; the ashtray that sat at one end was filled to overflowing. Cardboard boxes littered the floor, some stacked as high as the ceiling. The two desks were a disaster; a second full ashtray rested in the center of hers, on top of stacked papers, and empty coffee mugs dotted its once polished wood surface. The air was heavy with the smell of stale tobacco.
Forcefully expelling an uneven sigh, Carly paused and wound a strand of rich brown hair around her ear.
Straighten the place up a bit! Her mind mimicked George's words. She hadn't come all the way from Seattle to clean offices. Her title was traffic supervisor, not janitor!
Annoyed with herself for letting George walk all over her, Carly got her desk in reasonable order and straightened the papers on the counter. She grimaced as she examined the inside of the coffeepot. It looked like someone had dumped chocolate syrup in it. She guessed it had never been washed.
When the phone rang, she answered in a brisk, professional tone. "Alaska Freight Forwarding."
A short hesitation followed. "Who's this?"
Squaring her shoulders, she replied crisply, "Carly Grieves. May I ask who's calling?"
The man at the other end of the line ignored the question. "Let me talk to George."
It seemed no one in Alaska had manners. "George is out for the day. May I ask who's calling?"
Whoever was on the line let out a curse.
"I beg your pardon?"
"When do you expect him back?"
"Well, Mr. Blanky Blank, I can't rightly say."
"I'll be there in ten minutes." With that, he abruptly severed their connection.
Sighing, Carly replaced the receiver. Apparently Mr. Blanky Blank thought she could tell him something more in person.
A few minutes later, the door burst open and a man as lean and serious as an arctic wolf strode briskly inside and stopped just short of the counter. Dark flecks sparked with interest in eyes that were wide and deeply set. He was dressed in a faded jean jacket and worn jeans, and his Western-style, checkered shirt was open at the throat to reveal a broad chest with a sprinkling of curly, dark hair.
"Carly Grieves?" he questioned as his mouth quirked into a coaxing smile.
"Mr. Blanky Blank?" she returned, and smiled. His lean face was tanned from exposure to the elements. The dark, wind-tossed hair was indifferent to any style. This man was earthy and perhaps a little wild-the kind of wild that immediately gave women the desire to tame. Carly was no exception.
"Brand St. Clair," he murmured, his friendly eyes not leaving hers as he extended his hand.
Her own much smaller hand was enveloped in his calloused, roughened o...
