My Heart Belongs to You - Book 6 in The Water's Edge Christian Romance Series

My Heart Belongs To You is Book 6 in the Water’s Edge Christian Romance Series, a contemporary Christian Romance series set in the coastal fictional town of Water's Edge, south of Sydney.
Jilted romance author Joanne Collins escapes to Water’s Edge to write, but struggles with writer’s block due to her broken heart. Shane King, a newcomer with a secret and a yearning for a settled life, finds Joanne intriguing. As they connect, they face their fears of getting hurt and consider opening their hearts to love. Immersed in the close community of Water’s Edge, Joanne and Shane must decide if they can overcome their pasts for a chance at a future together, with faith guiding their journey towards healing and hope.

Shane King’s toes curled around the edge of the board while he scanned the horizon for the perfect wave. There! Adrenaline thrummed in his veins, and a towering wall of water rose to meet him. He dug his heels in, his muscles tense, and waited for the precise moment to make his move.
The wave crested closer and he pushed off, the board springing to life beneath him as he rode the swell with a fluid grace from years of experience.
The wave propelled him forward. The sensation of gliding on the water, the sound of the white water, and the whistle of the wind in his ears were nothing short of mesmerising. Man! He felt alive and in tune with the movement, the moment.
This was his sanctuary, his happy place, the space he found solace and tranquillity.
Where he felt most at home.
Since moving to Water’s Edge months ago, he’d spent every spare minute on the water, honing his skills, seeking the perfect ride.
Now, with the wave guiding him in, his gaze was drawn to a woman on a rock, the sun casting a golden glow on her sandy hair. But he glided down the face of the wave, forgetting her in the magic of the sensation.
Then he was dropping back towards the sea, his elbow tucked into the curl of the wave. He twisted his hips and body to keep his balance. Exhilaration surged through him.
He turned back, his honey-coloured brown hair falling into his eyes. Another wave loomed. He paddled hard. Pulled his board and his feet towards it. Braced himself.
As he stood and crouched over the board, an adrenaline rush unlike anything else in the world crested within him. Moments like this made him one with God’s creation.
When the waves grew choppy, he paddled back to shore, the cool water splashing his legs. Then he hauled himself off his board and onto the sandy beach.
The woman was still there, just metres from him. A laptop balanced on her tucked-up knees, and she glared at the screen, her forehead creased.
As though sensing him watching her, she looked up. “Is something wrong?” She clipped off the words, making her resentment of the intrusion clear.
Shane shrugged and released a lazy grin. “You look like you’re about to send that laptop to the bottom of the sea. Work not going well?”
She sighed. “You could say that. Or rather, it’s not going at all.”
He propped his board on the sand and leaned against it. “What do you do?”
He enjoyed getting to know people, and social interaction came easily to him. After all, he was a likeable guy.
As long as people didn’t try to get too close.
She narrowed her eyes. What? Didn’t she find him likeable? “Why do you want to know?”
Ouch, that clipped tone again. It didn’t belong on the beach. He held up both hands. “Just a question, lady. You know, a pretty normal one, like what’s your name or how are you. I was just being friendly.”
The woman raised her chin. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
Yep. And her apology lacked contrition. Man alive, what was eating her?
“I’m not having the best of mornings. I’m a writer, and I’m suffering the dreaded writer’s block. I used to think it didn’t exist, but now I’m a believer.”
Ah. That was it. “A writer, huh? What do you write?”
“Stories.”
Right. He held his hands up. “Don’t bite my head off. Have you tried praying?”
She blinked. Then her forehead creased. “I can’t say I have. I haven’t prayed in a long time. Do you pray?” Her gaze drifted to his board and then back to him.
Was she thinking? Stereotyping the deadbeat surfer? Shouldn’t a writer have more imagination than that?
He flicked hair off his face. “All the time. Surfers aren’t all some decadent, partying bunch, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It was just a joke. But maybe you should try it. I pray before I surf. And surfing’s a kind of prayer to me. Maybe it could be the same with your writing?”
She tipped her head to one side. She seemed almost suspicious. Probably thought he was hitting on her.
Whatever.
“That’s an interesting thing to say,” she conceded at last.
“I’m an interesting guy.” He grinned, but she didn’t smile back.
He could take a hint. “Well, I’ll let you get back to not writing.” He tucked his board under his arm. “See you.”
He gave a backwards wave as he jogged down the beach. Since when did he get such a cold reception? Especially from a woman? They found him charming, even though he had no inclination to charm them. Women were too complicated, as that one on the rock had just affirmed.
Nope, he didn’t need women in his life. The ocean was his life, his love. The waves were always there, predictable, opening their arms, showering him with salty kisses. Even when he got dumped on.
He didn’t need a woman.
But at the end of the beach, he looked back. She was still on that rock with her laptop on her knees, eyeing him.
He waved again, but she didn’t wave back.
What made her so uptight?
A man, no doubt.