Sweet2Heat Romance Reads Facebook ad: “Mandarin Bay -- a place for starting over”

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A warm breeze blew through Mandarin Bay’s tree-lined streets, setting palm fronds swaying, while the leaves on the pin oaks shimmered and sighed. Longtime resident, Libby Burman with her tote bag in hand, raised her face to feel that slight movement of air. Even a gentle gust would be welcomed during Florida’s midsummer heat. And welcome it, she did! It was not yet dark on this August evening. The days were still long although the summer solstice had passed. Beautiful winters and hot hellish summers—that was Florida, but Libby embraced every season. And why not? She couldn’t control the weather, so she might as well make the most of it and adapt. Her cap of dark hair with that streak of white in front had replaced the shoulder-length style of years ago. Long hair was just too hot! She refocused on her evening’s goal and homed in on the address of the community’s most recent newcomer—234 Coral Circle. She enjoyed her meeting-and-greeting role on the Welcome Committee, answering questions and helping newbies become familiar with the area. Some people moved in after they’d retired from their careers—the Silver Lakes Drive crew on the west side of the big lake—while others were still raising families. Her target today belonged to the latter group. Glancing at her tote bag, bulging with goodies someone might need but had forgotten or couldn’t find on moving day, she raised her hand and rang the doorbell. A divorced guy with two kids lived inside, and she was ready to meet the whole family. A man answered almost immediately, his dark hair mussed, jeans faded, and his work boots well-worn. She extended her free arm. “Hi there. I’m Libby Burman from the Welcome Committee,” she said, “and I’m hoping you’re John Smith.” “The one and only—in this family at least,” he replied with a wink as he shook her hand. “You’re a welcome sight if you’ve got some coffee in there,” he said, nodding toward the hefty bag. “I can’t seem to find—” He turned his head as if seeking his missing joe. From the back of the house came the sound of running feet, getting louder with each step. “Hey, Dad. Is this what you wanted?” A young girl held up a carton marked COFFEE. “What was it doing with my stuff?” “Who knows? And now I don’t care. Coffee is in my future.” John took the box, reached out and gently pulled his daughter forward. “Daisy, I want you to meet Mrs. Libby Burman, a nice neighbor, who’s brought some stuff we may have forgotten.” The girl’s bright blue eyes matched her dad’s. Libby reached into her tote. “Tissues, toilet paper, markers, scotch tape …” Daisy turned toward where she’d come from. “Jasmine,” she called. “Come here. Our little issue may be solved … at least for tonight.” A second girl appeared, and Libby blinked. “Two of you? Well, isn’t that something? No one on the committee told me to expect twins in this house.” Straight honey-blonde hair lay past their shoulders, and Libby guessed them to be about fourteen or fifteen years old. “They keep me hopping, but we do okay, don’t we?” asked John, tossing the coffee aside and putting his free arm around Jasmine. The girls’ eyes gleamed. “Since we waited to move until after the school year was over, I guess we’re doing just fine,” said Daisy. John glanced at Libby. “Pulling them out of school before their end-of-year big concerts would have put me in the doghouse forever.” He winked and kissed the top of Jasmine’s head. “And now all we have to do is figure out how to survive in a new school,” said Daisy. “A new high school.” “But, we will,” added Jasmine. “Even if everyone knows everyone else already. Except us.” Libby waved a finger back and forth at them. “I think you’ll have an advantage. You mentioned concerts? The music department’s great, and you’ll meet lots of nice kids there, including my grandchildren. What instruments do you play?” “We’re singers,” said Jasmine, “with a little piano on the side.” “That’s terrific.” Libby smiled. “You must have a great time together. I wish you the best of luck.” She stepped closer and leaned in. “I think you have a very smart dad. I’da been madder than a junkyard dog if I’d been pulled out of school mid-year.” The girls grinned, then sobered. “But we did lose a chance to buy a less expensive house because we weren’t ready to move,” said Daisy. “Doesn’t matter,” said John quickly. “All’s well that ends well, right girls? This one’s a tad bigger.” Libby glanced at John, then grinned at the kids. “They’re lovely girls, but I bet you have your hands full. After all, it’s two against one.” With a studied look at his daughters, he said, “It’s not too bad-—usually. You’re really good kids. Right?” The two girls eye-rolled the ceiling in tandem. John laughed. “Okay, cut it out. Back to unpacking.” In a flash, they disappeared back down the hallway. “When the house is straightened out and everything in its place,” began Libby, “you’ll be very happy with your choice of homes. Lots of space in this model.” “Yup,” said John. “The girls each have their own bedroom for the first time.” “Nice,” said Libby, “and your kitchen and living room are spacious, so you’re all set.” “I wanted a real home,” said John softly, “something more than just a rented apartment. It’s taken me a little time to figure it out, and make it happen, but …” He looked around the rooms as though viewing a spectacular sunrise, his smile stretching from ear to ear. Libby heard him inhale deeply as he shook his head. No words followed. And Libby recalled the times in her life when words wouldn’t come, when her heart was too full for them. The important times. Holding her daughter a minute after birth. Holding her again when she was widowed. And now this young man had achieved a dream.

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Mandarin Bay -- a place for starting over

Talented high school music teacher, , is making a new start in Mandarin Bay. The heartbreak of infertility coupled with a divorce after a “loving” ten-year marriage, had her reeling for a while. But now she’s all in with renting a house while getting to know her new school and students in the ...