Summer at the Lakehouse Cafe (ebook edition)
30 5-Star Ratings
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A fiercely independent single mother. A grieving winemaker seeking a fresh start. One summer that could change everything.
Lizzi Burnett has poured her heart into The Lakehouse Café, turning it into a sanctuary by the water for herself and her six-year-old daughter, Aimee. But when her abusive ex-husband threatens to force a sale unless she can buy him out, the future she’s fought so hard to build begins to crumble.
Pete Marshall has left behind a life of loss to begin again in New Zealand’s Mackenzie country. Drawn to Lizzi’s strength—and the vulnerability she tries to hide—he longs to prove that she doesn’t have to carry her burdens alone.
But Lizzi has learned the hard way that letting someone close means giving them the power to break you. With the café’s future at stake and Aimee’s security on the line, Lizzi faces a choice: guard her heart at all costs, or open herself to the possibility that not all love ends in heartbreak.
A heartfelt story of resilience, second chances, and the courage it takes to believe in love again—set against the sweeping beauty of New Zealand’s Mackenzie country.
The Mackenzies series: heartwarming women’s fiction with clean romance, unforgettable characters, and the beauty of New Zealand at its heart.
—The Mackenzies—
- A Place Called Home
- Secrets at Parata Bay
- Escape to Shelter Springs
- What you See in the Stars
- Second Chance at Whisper Creek
- Summer at the Lakehouse Café
—Lantern Bay—
- Yours to Give
- Yours to Treasure
- Yours to Cherish
- Yours to Keep
- Yours Forever
- Yours to Love
—MacLeod's Cove—
A Second Spring at MacLeod's Cove (prequel to series)
- Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
- The Café at MacLeod's Cove
- Second Chapter at MacLeod's Cove
Excerpt
The sun hadn’t yet risen above the mountains when Lizzi Burnett drove down the dusty track to the secluded bay. She parked at the very end of the track, where the lake—a pale blue in the early-morning light—was framed between stands of tall pine trees.
She lowered the window of her car and cut the engine. Lulled by the sound of lapping water and the honeyed fragrance of wild lupins and dried grass, she sighed and closed her eyes.
She loved these rare moments when she was alone with nothing but the pristine ring of mountains that cradled the Mackenzie basin, with the township of Shelter Springs and Shelter Lake at its center. High up in New Zealand’s South Island, the world felt fresh, beautiful and full of hope again, reminding her of how she’d felt when she was young, growing up by the sea. It seemed a long time ago.
She opened the car door, noting the rust which would have to last another year before she could afford to do anything about it, and closed it quietly, reluctant to disturb the birdsong.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she walked to the grassy bank above the small beach. She was wearing her swimming togs under her clothes and was about to undress when she paused and sat on the springy grass instead.
Maybe it was because she was tired, but she felt different this morning. She glanced across to the other side of the lake to her cottage beside The Lakehouse Café where she and her daughter lived. But Aimee wasn’t there this morning. She was staying at her grandfather’s house in Akaroa for the week. It meant Lizzi could devote her entire attention to the café. It also meant that she felt a yawning gap in her heart and life which she hadn’t anticipated.
Life was so busy that she thought she’d enjoy a few days on her own, focusing on what she needed to get done. And she had, but not without missing Aimee every second of every day.
She wondered how on earth she’d get on when Aimee was old enough to leave home. But even though that was years away—Aimee was only six—she knew. Once you had a child, they never left you, you never stopped worrying about them.
The sun peeped over the mountain and spread its rich light over the lake and the grassy plains, turning them to fire. The vision was so majestic, so ridiculous, Lizzi laughed and, instead of stripping and running into the water, she lay on the grass. The last wisps of clouds were already evaporating under what would be another scorching hot day.
She was so lucky. Aimee was safe. She was safe. And she loved her work, running the café. She plucked a piece of grass, popped it into her mouth and began chewing it as her mind wandered over what she had to do that day.
Suddenly she frowned. The soothing sound of the gentle waves breaking over the pebbles was overtaken by a rhythmic splash. She narrowed her eyes as she tried to place the cause. Not a bird—it was too rhythmic, and not the wind—it was too powerful. A wave of nausea washed over her and she sat up. She hated surprises, hated the unpredictable.
She didn’t see him to begin with. Then the light from the sun flashed on the white plume of water as an arm struck into the ice blue of the lake’s surface. The angle of the sun made it difficult to see clearly. It was followed by another and then another, as the swimmer came ever closer to the bay. She looked around in panic. It was her bay. She never saw anyone else here. She grabbed her bag, pulled on her cardigan and walked quickly toward the car, hoping to get there before the lone swimmer reached the beach.
She hurried across the few hundred yards which separated the grassy bank from her car, and opened the car door. She hesitated then. This was ridiculous. Why should her adrenaline surge at the thought of a stranger? Why should she dive straight away into a fight or flight response when she came across something she hadn’t predicted? She knew why. But she was sick of it. Sick of running, sick of being scared. It was these thoughts which made her turn to the swimmer. But it was what she saw next which made her stand stock-still.
A man rose up from the lake, the bright light of the sun nearly blinding her as it reflected off the water which ran in thick rivulets from his body. He waded toward her, thrusting forward with an energy and power which had her completely fixated. His leg muscles were long and taut, pushing the water out of his way, creating waves that rippled out across the lake as if he were a one-man tsunami.
He was wearing shorts which clung to his thighs and his hips, revealing every contour. She lifted her eyes to his stomach—which showed the kind of six-pack only seen on models—and to his chest and shoulders which had the breadth and strength of a swimmer. He swept his hair from his face and twisted around, looking up toward the mountains, whose white caps flamed like torches in the morning sun.
Lizzi licked her lips and drew in a deep breath. Who was this man with the looks of a god, and what was he doing out here, in the middle of nowhere—her nowhere to be precise?
***
