In The Renovation on Hollyhock Hill, Candy Needham is determined to prove she's more than just a pretty face with a toolbelt. The lakeside house on Hollyhock Hill is the perfect showcase project... until she finds a grumpy squatter claiming ownership! 

Here’s a peek at Chapter One...

📖 Chapter One

"Good morning, Hearth Breakers! It's Candy Needham coming to you on a fabulous Monday morning, and folks, it's Demolition Day!" Candy beamed at her phone mounted on the dashboard as she pulled into the driveway of the charming two-story house on Hollyhock Hill. She put her SUV in park and reached for her framing hammer from the passenger side floorboard. Holding it aloft in front of the camera, she asked, "Are you ready? I know I am!"

She took a moment to appreciate the lake house's potential. The home had that classic character that made her heart flutter—natural wood trim, tall windows, and a wide, welcoming porch that wrapped around the front. Sure, the flaking paint on the eaves and the overgrown garden beds showed signs of neglect, but she could already envision how stunning it would look once she worked her magic.

It was perfect showcase material, Candy thought, the butterflies in her stomach doing a happy dance. After working so hard to salvage her reputation, this project could be the cornerstone she needed.

She unclipped the phone from the dash and slid out of the car, trying not to jostle her camera too much. "I can't wait to show you the transformation we're about to begin." She panned slowly to capture the house and the property it sat on. "This beauty has so much potential hiding under her dated façade. We're going to honor all that gorgeous character while bringing in some modern touches."

She flipped the camera back to herself, the early morning sunlight glistening on the lake behind her. "Wait until you see the floors, you guys. I think there might be original hardwood underneath the decades old Berber carpet!"

Candy ended the recording and quickly posted it to her social media accounts, resisting the urge to watch for that first heart or thumbs up. Her follower count had been steadily climbing back since the TV scandal a couple of years ago, but she still had a long way to go. Every like, every comment felt like a small victory in reclaiming her reputation from the ashes.

After tucking her phone away, she grabbed her tool bag from the floorboard behind her seat and headed toward the house. The owner, Maeve Lewis, had given her the keys to the castle, so to speak, and had granted Candy carte blanche to renovate and restore to her heart's content. Although the property had once been Maeve's family home, it had been a summer rental for years, and had slowly become too much for the older woman to manage. Having decided it was time to sell, Maeve had assured Candy that she had no compulsion to be involved in what was going on. "Do with it what you would if you were the owner," she'd told her.

For Candy, who'd been living under the dark cloud of the fallout of her DIY home improvement show scandal, Maeve accepting her offer had been nothing short of a miracle. A full renovation would bring the home up to modern standards in order to fetch the best price on the market, and would also allow Candy to showcase her talents to potential clients. It was the perfect way to launch her new renovation and restoration company.

She pulled out her phone, fluffed her blonde ponytail, straightened her "Hearth & Home Renovations" t-shirt, and hit record.

"Let's take a little tour before we start tearing things out," she said, keeping her voice upbeat as she pushed open the front door. It creaked a little, sending a shiver of excitement up her spine. "That's the sound of a warm welcome from a house like this one," she said, panning her camera around the foyer. Inside, the air was musty with disuse, but sunlight streamed through the tall windows that faced the lake, illuminating the home's beautiful bones.

"Hello?" she called, her voice echoing. To the camera she said with a chuckle, "Just in case the critters haven't heard I'm coming."

She wandered through the open plan downstairs, careful not to move too quickly, lest she make her viewers seasick. "Check out these gorgeous crown moldings. And look at that fireplace with the original stone surround!"

She continued her tour into the kitchen, with its avocado green appliances and worn linoleum. "This kitchen is going to be our biggest transformation. I'm thinking glass paned upper cabinets with low watt lighting inside to display the contents, a butcher block island, a farm sink with granite countertops in—" She stopped abruptly, her ears picking up a sound from upstairs. A thump, followed by what sounded like... growling?

Candy froze, her pulse racing. Great. Was she going to have to deal with a crazy raccoon or an angry possum today? She'd been kidding when she'd joked about the critters a moment ago, but the idea of actually coming face-to-face with an animal who might see her as a threat was not appealing to her.

Putting on a brave face, Candy grinned into the phone. "Did you guys hear that?" She pointed toward the stairs. "I think we might have a visitor to oust. Maybe I'll have to add wildlife removal to my list of renovation services."

She wasn't afraid of mice or spiders; she'd had to accept them as part of her career choice. But something larger? Please let it be a squirrel that's more afraid of me than I am of it, she prayed silently, not wanting her viewers to pick up on her trepidation. She squared her shoulders and started toward the stairs, her camera facing outward. "Let's investigate, shall we? This house has been empty for quite some time, after all."

She climbed the stairs, still narrating quietly. "All three bedrooms are on the second floor. Two share a Jack and Jill bathroom between them, but the largest bedroom has an en suite bathroom with an enormous claw-foot tub. We're keeping that fabulous tub, but the rest of it needs a major overhaul. I'll show you that in a minute, but first—" She approached the first of the smaller rooms where the soft growls seemed to originate. "Let's see what's making that noise, shall we?"

Was it growling? The sounds were almost… rhythmic.

Wait. Was that—could it be snoring?

A flicker of unease passed through her, but she dismissed it. This was Autumn Lake, not Chicago. Animals snored, too, right? At least, her dog, Chipper, did.

Surely, it wasn't a squatter. She'd just been in the place two days ago, and there'd been no evidence of anyone but herself in the house.

The sound stopped. She held her breath and listened again. Was the creature on the other side of that door holding its breath and listening for her, too?

She grabbed the hammer she'd tucked into her tool belt and gripped it at the base of the handle, giving her swing an extra sixteen inches if push came to shove. Being barely five-feet-two, she'd take it.

She flipped the camera to herself and whispered, "Let's do this."

She raised her hammer boldly and stepped closer to the door. She pressed her ear to it. Something rustled inside, then let out a snort.

Her heart was pounding in her ribcage. Was she being stupid? Should she call the police? Should she be recording this?

Why, yes. Yes, she should be recording this. All of it. This was her renovation site. If some stray—or squatter, heaven forbid—had broken in, they needed to leave. Now.

She flipped the camera again so she'd capture footage of whatever was in that room and rapped a knuckle on the door. "Hello?" she called, hoping with all her might that no one would answer.

When there was no other sound, she tapped the door with her boot. It wasn't latched and drifted partially open. She stepped back, daring only to peer into the six-inch gap, but she couldn't see anything except the far wall of the room where an empty bookshelf stood.

"Hello?" she called again, louder this time. "Is someone there?" She nudged the door open the rest of the way.

The room was dim, curtains drawn against the morning light. As her eyes adjusted, Candy started violently, the phone jerking in her hand.

A large shape was sprawled on the twin bed under the window. Not an animal, but a human form in a sleeping bag, a shaggy head of dark hair protruding from the opening, facing away from her toward the wall. A large, filthy backpack rested against the foot of the bed, alongside a pair of well-worn, even filthier boots.

Her heart thrashed around inside her ribcage. "Hey!" she shouted, instinctively raising the hammer higher. "This is private property!" Her voice came out with much more authority than she felt.

The figure grunted and rolled over. A bearded, disheveled man glared at her through slitted eyes from across the room. He was clearly displeased at being awakened, but she didn't back down.

Well, she didn't run screaming, which was what she wanted to do, but she did back up so that she was outside the room. "I don't know who you are, but you need to leave right now."

He closed his eyes and burrowed back into the sleeping bag.

"I said, wake up!" Candy flipped the light switch on the wall on and off several times, hoping the flickering would irritate him even through his closed eyes. "You're trespassing! I have you on camera right now, and thousands of my followers are seeing this. I'm calling the police!"

That got his attention. The man pushed himself up into a sitting position, the sleeping bag slipping down around his waist to reveal a threadbare t-shirt that might have been white at one time. In spite of his broad shoulders, the shirt hung on his slender frame.

Candy's grip on her phone tightened. If everything worked out, this would make for some potentially viral footage. If things got ugly, she'd have evidence to turn in to the police. If you survive, a small voice in her head whispered. The guy was definitely hostile.

"Lady," he growled, his voice rough with sleep. "You're the one who's trespassing. Since you let yourself in, you obviously know where the door iso you can let yourself out again." Then he flopped back down and turned his back to her, drawing the sleeping bag up over his head as if to shut out both the morning light and her.

"Buddy! Hey!" She raised her voice. His dismissive tone sent an ever ready spark of anger through her. She'd dealt with enough condescending men in her career to recognize the type.

"I'm not your buddy," came the muffled retort.

"I don't care who you are, but you need to leave," she repeated, growing angrier by the second. "Now."

He flipped back the top of the sleeping bag but didn't roll over to look at her. "This is my house," was all he said before drawing the cover up over his head again.

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"No, it's not." Good grief. Was she arguing with a squatter over ownership of the house? On camera? This guy was making her look like a fool.

"That's it," she said. "I'm calling the police." She stopped filming and dialed 911. She put it on speaker so that he could hear just how serious she was.

The phone rang twice, then was answered by a calm male voice. "911. What is your emergency?"

The man in the bed sat bolt upright and threw back the covers again. "Is this some kind of a joke? Who are you?" He pulled his legs from the covers and pushed to his feet, causing Candy to take another step back. She also raised her hammer again. The man snorted with derision. "You planning to club me with that thing?"

Candy straightened her shoulders defiantly and brought the phone a little closer to her mouth. "I'm at 1432 Hollyhock Hill and there's an intruder here. I need the police."

The operator paused a moment, then asked, "Ma'am, are you safe? Are you in the home with the intruder?"

Candy shot a challenging look at the man who now stood in the middle of the room in only his t-shirt and boxers. "Am I safe?" she asked him, refusing to look away. All the important bits were fully covered, and since he didn't seem to be embarrassed by his state of dishabille, then she refused to let him think it bothered her. Besides, what if he lunged at her the moment she turned her back on him?

"Ma'am?" The operator spoke a bit more urgently. "Do you know the intruder?"

"No, I most certainly do not," Candy exclaimed. "Please send the police as quickly as possible." She gave the dispatcher her name and promised to stay on the line with him until the police showed up.

The man was shaking his head, his tangled hair and beard wild from sleep, giving off major irritated sasquatch vibes. "Idiot," he snarled, turning away from her. As if suddenly remembering that he was only in his underclothes, he reached for the backpack and withdrew a pair of cargo pants with holes in both knees and one back pocket nearly torn off.

"Did you just call me an idiot?" Candy demanded, offended by his belligerence. It only bothered her slightly that now she, too, sounded belligerent.

"Nope," the guy grunted, his back to her as he unceremoniously stepped into his pants. He was almost gaunt, Candy noticed. She could practically count his ribs through the thin fabric of his shirt as he bent forward to root around in his pack again. He stumbled a little when he straightened, but placed a hand on the wall to steady himself.

He looked like he needed to eat something. Was he sick?

Oh, no, no, no. Don't start feeling sorry for him, Candace Needham. He just called you an idiot.

Because in spite of his denial, he certainly hadn't called himself an idiot, had he? Obviously, this guy was gunning for a fight, hoping to get a reaction out of her.

"Ms. Needham?" It was the dispatcher trying to get her attention. "I'm advising you to remove yourself from the situation while you wait for the police. You should get out of the house, maybe into your car and lock the doors."

But Candy wasn't about to give up ground. Sure, she was being stubborn, but after sizing up her opponent, she figured she could take him. She was armed with a hammer, after all.

Besides, she was finished with men dictating her every move.

"Thank you," was all she said in response, but she did acknowledge to herself that she didn't have to loiter in the doorway and stare at the guy. She moved to the top of the stairs where she could see the front door below, while still keeping an eye on the open bedroom door just a few feet down the hall. "So much for a smooth first day on this project," she muttered under her breath.

The man didn't emerge from the room, which was almost more unnerving than if he'd tried to flee, especially with the police coming. Either he was completely delusional and truly thought he owned the place, or he was the most confident squatter in Indiana history.

Within ten minutes, a police cruiser pulled up outside. Candy hurried downstairs to meet Officer Wayne, a clean-cut man in his mid-thirties, and a familiar face to most of the Autumn Lake locals.

"Hey, Bobby," Candy greeted him, holding the door open. She said goodbye to the dispatcher on the phone and hung up. "He's upstairs. Unless he's crawled out a window. I have no clue how he even got in."

The officer eyed the hammer she still clutched in one hand.

"Oh," Candy said, flushing under his questioning gaze. "Yeah. Effective, don't you think?" She shoved the thing back into her toolbelt like she was holstering a gun.

"Why are you still in the house?" Bobby asked, scanning the large open floor plan beyond her. "Why didn't you wait in your car for me?"

Candy drew herself up, trying to look a little taller. "I didn't think he was dangerous."

"And you could tell that by looking?" Bobby frowned. "Was he armed?"

"He was sleeping," she shot back, not appreciating what sounded to her like a condescending tone.

"I know a lot of guys who sleep with their weapons."

Candy took a deep, steadying breath. She would not fight with Bobby Wayne. Not today. She had a renovation to tackle, and the sooner she could get both men out of the house, the better. She'd put herself on a strict schedule, having already posted her Open House weekend online and in the local Courier newspaper, and this was not the kind of delay she'd accounted for.

Instead, she waved a hand toward the staircase. "Will you please go deal with him? I'm not the one trespassing. I'm supposed to be in this house, remember?"

Bobby was a good cop. He was a good guy in general. Candy knew he wasn't belittling her, that she was just being defensive, and so she conceded a little ground to him. "I'll wait down here."

Bobby nodded, grim-faced. "Good idea. I'll go take a look."

"Holler if you need me," she added, as he started up the stairs.

Bobby shot her a long-suffering glare over his shoulder, and Candy fluttered her fingers at him, grimacing in acknowledgement that maybe that might have been a little much.

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