In book 7 of this USA Today bestselling series, a new person comes to town to run the newly renovated lighthouse. But what is the running from and will her secret come out?

Meg needs to make a decision about her upcoming wedding, but will her choice shock her mother, Julie?

William makes a life-changing decision, but then everything keeps falling apart. How will it affect his relationship with Janine?

Catch up with the rest of your favorite characters including Julie, Dawson and Dixie! If you love southern women's fiction, you will enjoy all of the books in the South Carolina Sunsets series.

"The second book in the Lightning Strikes series is one of her best. It has great characters, a good plot, and a bit of mysticism. Loved it." —Pamela Gibson, award-winning romance author

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Barbara Freethy comes the second book in a new romantic suspense trilogy: Lightning Strikes. In these connected novels, lightning leads to love, danger, and the unraveling of long-buried secrets that will change not only the past but also the future...

Katherine Barrett, a dedicated young doctor, receives a terrified phone call from her brother, TJ. He is running away to Mexico to save himself and their family from an unnamed killer. He warns her not to come after him and not to go to the police, as there is no one she can trust. But Katherine realizes there might be someone she can trust…

She turns to her former high school sweetheart Jake Monroe—the man whose heart she broke a decade earlier. Katherine asks Jake to fly her into a remote and dangerous part of Mexico where no one else dares to go. 

Jake had always thought that one day Katherine would realize she needed him, but he didn't expect it to go down this way. Still, he can't resist the beautiful blonde he has never been able to forget. 

They set off on an adventure that will take them into the past, unravel a decade of secrets, and lead them into the heart of a lightning storm that will change the way they look at their families, the world, and each other… 

Author Bio:
Barbara Freethy is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of 41 novels ranging from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and women's fiction. Traditionally published for many years, Barbara opened her own publishing company in 2011 and has since sold over 4.8 million copies of her books. Nineteen of her titles have appeared on the New York Times and USA Today Bestseller Lists. In July of 2014, Barbara was named the Amazon KDP bestselling author of ALL TIME! She was also the first indie author to sell over 1 million copies at both Barnes and Noble and Amazon. An author known for writing emotional stories about ordinary people caught up in extraordinary situations, Barbara has received starred reviews from Publishers' Weekly and Library Journal and has also received six nominations for the RITA for Best Single Title Contemporary Romance from Romance Writers of America. She has won the honor twice for her novels Daniel's Gift and The Way Back Home. 

Shop the Lightning Strikes series

Shop all Barbara Freethy books

Once, I was a broke college student. Now, it seems I'm destined to rule as the Lightbringer--queen of the demon realm. Except I have competition in the form of Orion, the Lord of Chaos. Like me, he has been marked as a leader. We can't keep our hands off each other, even if he swore an oath to kill me.

It seems we both want the same thing--the crown. And in this battle of wills, only one of us will be left standing.

“B.J. Herron is a deft storyteller who perfectly captures the feelings of dread that a person can experience in an environment filled with painful memories. Constantly able to make familiar and normal surroundings feel oppressive through association, Herron’s prose is consistently high quality, and the author's understanding of trauma is evident throughout the work. Losing Love is an incredible journey and a very worthwhile character study of a trauma survivor.” —K.C. Finn for Readers Favorite (5 Stars)

There is more than one way to lose love…

Still struggling from a broken past, lawyer Faith Shields is stronger and braver than the girl who left home 15 years ago. After years of therapy, Faith recognizes that change is hard and must be embraced in order to grow. But when her beloved grandmother, the woman who supported and encouraged her in life, suffers a tragedy, she is thrust back into the environment that left her scarred and bleeding. Facing the demanding family that damaged her, Faith must find the courage to confront the demons of her past once and for all. Along with her husband Nicholi Shields, a neurosurgeon who’s dedicated to saving lives and his wife, she returns to her hometown on the South Side of Chicago, where murky waters of family and pain await and where she learns at last what it means to grow, what it takes to heal, and, most importantly, what it means to love.

More Reviews:

"Full of feelings of passion and emotion, Losing Love may teach us to understand the importance of both love and loyalty and the difference between them. A beautifully written story...will have readers cheering until the end." —Seattle Book Review

"Losing Love by B.J. Herron is well worth reading from cover to cover for it explains and shows so much of a world that some of us have never imagined, and how this affects families, and how they progress in life... B.J. Herron writes with sensitivity so that you feel as if you are in the story." —Bernadette Longu for Reader's Favorite (5 Stars)

Author Bio:
B.J. Herron was born in Chicago and raised in the South Suburban area outside of the city. Growing up, she was fascinated with words and storytelling, and the meaning behind them. This interest led to some early exposure to reading since she was drawn to poetry and stories about people who looked like her. Later, B.J. received her BS in Mass Communications from Tennessee State University and her MFA in Creative Writing from Full Sail University. She also worked for eleven years as a writer and editor for a myriad of publications, including the Chicago Defender. She now lives in Nashville, Tenn. Losing Love is her first novel.

Gaining her independence has been hard-won, but Susan Hall's love of Belle Island and the small inn she runs with her son has seen her through.

Adam Lyons needs money... and not only for himself. With a raise and a promotion on the line, he comes to Belle Island to convince the owner of a quaint inn to sell it to his company. He just doesn't plan to fall for the pretty, spunky owner of the inn he wants to buy.

As secrets are revealed, the fragile relationship between Adam and Susan is tested, until Adam has to choose between the woman he's fallen in love with and his responsibility to the most important person in his life... a person he's sworn he won't let down yet again.

"You can't always get what you want."
"But, if you try, you might find..."

You'll get exactly what's coming for you.

FBI agent Olivia Knight has seen the realities of what happens when nightmares come to life.
When she's called to investigate a case of an apparent murder-suicide in an affluent community.
She finds herself buried by the unexplainable questions that arise regarding the couple's seemingly perfect life.
When a deep dive into the life of the philanthropic couple leads to a revelation to a potential double life.
Olivia finds herself wondering if their hidden life finally caught up to them...

They say the purest form of good in this world is love.
But what happens if the love you feel is all a lie?
What happens when the thing you love the most turns into a monster that breaks you?

With her own romantic life in shambles, Olivia begins to wonder what price one is willing to pay for love?
And what is the truth behind this case of love, lies, and suicide?

Sometimes we find ourselves when we're not even looking.

Rebecca's life is a bit of a disaster. Her boss is the worst and her bestie is moving out to live with her boyfriend. Meanwhile, Rebecca's love life just stormed out the door after she faked it in bed.

But how is she supposed to fake something she's never experienced?

It's humiliating and Rebecca swears everyone in Manhattan can tell just by looking at her on the sidewalk. She deserves better.

When her doctor's advice falls flat, the next offers a different path. One she'd never consider in a million years if she wasn't so desperate for answers. And for Kyle.

The gorgeous photographer who moves in across the hall is impossible to resist. Kyle is everything Rebecca isn't-bold, charismatic, and fearless. When they ride his black motorcycle, all her troubles melt away. Except for one.

After hiding her secret becomes impossible, Rebecca summons the courage to fight for the life she wants-knowing it could be her last chance.

Vulnerable and inspiring, Love, Only Better is an authentic and inspiring story about how to find confidence and love yourself.

Read in 24 countries, it's 5x award winning contemporary fiction-with romance and spice-that readers "can't put down."

This book contains intimate scenes.

PRAISE FOR LOVE, ONLY BETTER

• "I loved the feminism and the overdue mentions of women's basic needs. I definitely recommend this book." (NetGalley)
• "If you're looking for a book with its heart open just waiting to draw you in, look no further. I really recommend it." (NetGalley)
• "Paulette Stout deserves all the stars for bringing to the page a story that I haven't seen explore in fiction this way before." (NetGalley)
• "The chemistry between Kyle and Rebecca had me on the edge of my seat. I definitely recommend this book." (NetGalley)
• "At a time when women need their voices heard, you sing a beautiful song with this book." (Reader Review)
• "Rebecca's journey is a story I've never encountered before and I read A LOT of books." (Reader Review)
• "I thoroughly enjoyed it and read it in two days." (Reader Review)
• "You took a difficult topic and made it a beach read." (Reader Review)
• "I've fallen in love with Kyle." (Reader Review)
• "Rebecca is such a great, multidimensional character." (Reader Review)
• "I couldn't put it down." (Reader Review)
• "I absolutely adore these characters." (Reader Review)

About the Author
Stout, Paulette: - Paulette Stout is the fearless author of Love, Only Better, a contemporary romance and bedroom rallying cry for women everywhere. Born in Manhattan, Paulette is the gold-star wordsmith and owner of her content marketing agency, Media Goddess Inc. You can usually find Paulette rearranging words into pleasing patterns while wearing grammar t-shirts. Either that, or texting pictures of something she's whipped up in the kitchen to her two adult kids while her husband rolls his eyes. And if you think those three Mediaweek awards she got while working as a media buyer/planner in New York City for 15 years have gone to her head-you'd be right. Paulette earned her Bachelor's Degree in Communications from Cornell University and her MBA in Marketing from the Lubin School of Business, Pace University. Connect with Paulette on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram or on her author website: www.paulettestout.com. Love, Only Better is available internationally, wherever books are sold.

Two women try to beat the odds as they continue to run their upscale seaside hotel in Florida, finding surprises along the way...
Ann Rutherford's and Rhonda DelMonte Grayson's lives continue to be full of surprises as they run The Beach House Hotel, their small, upscale hotel on the Gulf Coast in Southwest Florida. Things heat up when Tina Marks (Valentina Marquis, a famous young movie star) is sent to the hotel in secret to lose twenty-five pounds in eight weeks for her next starring role. As much as Ann and Rhonda want to help Tina succeed, the hotel is known for its delicious food as well as its promise of anonymity, and Tina is impossible to deal with. Then, when Rhonda is faced with a "mysterious illness," Ann's role becomes even more stressful as she tries to find time for her fiancé, Vaughn Sanders, the star of a television soap opera, who deserves the attention she can't give him. As Ann discovers, life is about choices, and she's determined to make the best ones she can to keep Vaughn in her life.
A light, "beach read" with humor sprinkled in for readers' enjoyment. Be sure to read the next books in the series! Dinner at The Beach House Hotel, Christmas at The Beach House Hotel, Margaritas at The Beach House Hotel, and Dessert at The Beach House Hotel. Or read the first book in the series, Breakfast at The Beach House Hotel.

And check out Judith Keim's other series - The Hartwell Women, the Fat Fridays series, the Salty Key Inn series, the Chandler Hill Inn series, the Desert Sage Inn series, and the Seashell Cottage Books that readers are loving.

An upscale hotel like The Beach House Hotel sometimes attracts surprise guests....

Ann and Rhonda continue overseeing their Beach House Hotel along the Gulf Coast of Florida and providing guests with a lovely experience of good eating, relaxation, and the privacy many of them require. When Vice President of the United States, Amelia Swanson, asks them for a favor, Ann and Rhonda agree without realizing it means protecting Amelia's sister from an abusive husband and a nosy public, including their nemesis, Brock Goodwin, who hopes to gain something from the knowledge. But once they've said yes, there's no going back.

Life continues at a busy pace with their families growing baby by baby. Nell, Vaughn's daughter, has a baby girl; Rhonda's daughter, Angela, has her second baby, a girl; and Liz, Ann's daughter, is desperately trying to get pregnant. With all the tension and activity taking place at home and at the hotel, Ann and Rhonda meet in the afternoon when they can for margaritas and private talk. Rhonda, especially, needs Ann's guidance in how to handle Katherine Smythe, Angela's mother-in-law, and one of the most irritating people they know.

After they have what Rhonda calls a "near-death experience," they come to realize how lucky they are. And when another wedding takes place at the hotel due to what Rhonda believes is her matchmaking skills, they celebrate life and margaritas at The Beach House Hotel in a whole different way.

This is a light-hearted, fun beach read with characters readers love. Be sure and read all the other books in this series: Breakfast at The Beach House Hotel, Lunch at The Beach House Hotel, Dinner at The Beach House Hotel, Christmas at The Beach House Hotel, and the upcoming Dessert at The Beach House Hotel.

“This book was amazing…This story showed that through all the pain, guilt, and mistakes people could grow and become what they never thought possible. This entire series has been heartwarming with hints of romance, pain, and family.” —Boundless Book Reviews

A playboy with a painful past finds help he never expected to need, in the most unlikely of places, in this standalone, opposites-attract romance from USA Today bestseller Tess Thompson.

Real estate developer Kyle Hicks only has time for three things: his latest project, his very best friends, and his next no-strings-attached tryst. Struggling single mother Violet Ellis is just as busy. Between her son, her failing business, and her historical preservation work, there’s never any time to catch her breath.

While Kyle’s bringing progress to Cliffside Bay, Violet’s fighting to protect the small town’s increasingly rare charm. But for once they’ll find themselves on the very same team when a brand new project that neither of them anticipated arrives.

As this unlikely pair quickly learns, working together will require trust and respect. And there just might be something else simmering under the surface of their once-acrimonious relationship—something special that both of these former rivals are willing to fight for.

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Author Bio:
Tess Thompson is the USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary and historical Romantic Women’s Fiction with nearly 40 published titles. When asked to describe her books, she could never figure out what to say that would perfectly sum them up until she landed on, Hometowns and Heartstrings.

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1: Kyle

Kyle Hicks hadn’t had an episode for two years. Until now. He stood under the shower with the water as hot as he could stand it and scoured his body with a rough kitchen sponge. Steam as thick as morning fog obscured his vision. His skin stung. He would not stop. Not until the stench was gone.

The child outside of the food bank with the ravenous eyes. That’s what did it. The memories like a riptide snatched him from the present and swallowed him whole. Sucked him into the vortex of memory. He couldn’t fight them off. They just kept coming.

Pig. Pig stinks.

The taunts and jeers of his childhood rose around him, ghostlike in the steam.

Please, just leave me alone.

Recollections of fists and steel-toed boots blotted out the past twelve years with an invading darkness like black ink spilled on his expensive stationary. The memories devoured his accomplishments. They crushed his friendships. The stunning properties he’d created tumbled under their weight.

He crossed over to that other time when he was a scrawny, hungry, shell of a boy. The bullying and poverty and shame. The stench of it all.

The children called him Pig.

The telephone rang from the other room. A lifeline to the present.

I am Kyle Hicks. I helped build this resort. I’m a partial owner. I am no longer afraid. No one can hurt me.

He tore out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Steam followed him as he stumbled to the phone. “This is Kyle Hicks.” His voice was normal. I am the boss.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Hicks. This is Robert from the front desk. There’s a lady in the lobby asking for you.”

“Does this lady have a name?”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, I’m sure she does, but she wouldn’t give it to me. She has a baby with her. She says it’s your baby.”

“My baby?”

“That’s what she said.”

“I’m sorry? Could you repeat that one more time?”

“Yes, sir. She said you’re the father of the baby. She wants you to come downstairs, so she can give it to you.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Please hurry, sir. She’s creating quite a scene.”

“The woman?”

“No, the baby.”

He knew what this was—one of the Dogs playing a trick on him. Of his four best friends, which of them would do this? Probably Lance. He had a wicked sense of humor and had recently been chiding him for his lack of support regarding Zane and Honor’s adoption of a six-year-old orphan named Jubie. This was the type of joke Lance would find hilarious. A joke wrapped up in a morality lesson.

He would have his revenge. This was not funny. They should know better than to mess with him in front of the staff. But still, he had to give it to them. This was good. They knew he was not a family man. If they knew why, they would have more sympathy. But he would never tell his secrets. Not even to the Dogs.

He went to the window, breathing deeply, purging the darkness. The child outside of the food bank had looked like him. That’s all this was. It had been years since he’d had an episode. He examined his arms. They were pink but not bleeding. He was fine.

His reflection in the window stared back at him. His muscular frame, expensive haircut, and capped teeth told the story of the new Kyle. When he dressed it would be in the finest clothes money could buy.

Outside the windows, rain fell in dogged stripes. This October was particularly dreary, even in quaint Cliffside Bay. That’s right. He lived here. The Dogs were his family. He had everything. Wealth, cars, land. Most of all, friends. The Dogs had his back. He didn’t have to be afraid ever again.

Minutes later, he exited the elevator into the lobby. The sound of a screaming infant reverberated against the marble floors and cathedral ceiling. Even the crystal chandelier seemed to shake. Kyle looked in the direction of the racket. A young woman with a stroller stood by the glass windows. He quickened his pace. His staff shot him worried glances as he passed by the desk. Several patrons wrinkled their foreheads in irritation, clearly annoyed their peaceful afternoons sipping cucumber water had been interrupted by reality.

The Dogs had gone to a lot of trouble. How had they convinced a woman and a baby to go along with the act? This was the work of Zane and Lance. Jackson and Brody were too mature to think of something like this. Plus, as the town doctor, Jackson had sick people to care for. Brody was currently halfway through the football season. The highest paid quarterback in the AFL did not have time for pranks.

Having arrived at the source of the racket, he peered into the stroller. He took inventory: pink blanket, and a baby no bigger than the span of his two hands. A girl baby, probably a week or two old. He vaguely recalled holding his baby sister when she first arrived. This baby clenched her fists and kicked at her blanket, her complexion a disconcerting shade of purple. Perhaps she was hungry? Or needed a diaper change? He had no idea. Kyle knew nothing of babies.

He did, however, know about angry females, and this was one of them, albeit a tiny one. He looked away from the baby to study her companion. Dingy blond hair in need of washing hung in her eyes. Her right tennis shoe had a hole near the big toe area, and her leggings were thin from wear. She smelled of grease and the inside of city bus. Who was she? No one he knew. He never forgot a face or a name. Real Estate development was about people. The secret to people was to be generally interested in them. He could tell you a person’s life story after one afternoon of golf.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“You can say that again.” She glared at him with hostility mixed with triumph. Her features were flat and her complexion gray, like a rock honed by years of rushing water. She reached into the stroller and picked up the baby, who immediately stopped the terrible howling. Why hadn’t she done this earlier? This was a mystery he couldn’t explore now because the woman’s next words eviscerated all coherent thought. “This is Mollie Blue Hicks. Your baby. I have the paperwork to prove it.”

The gazes of every person in the lobby bored a hole into the back of his head. “Perhaps we could talk in the office?”

“Whatever.” She thrust the baby toward him. “Take her.”

He couldn’t think of what else to do but accept the parcel. Kyle Hicks took Mollie Blue into his arms, cradling her close to his chest, then indicated for the sullen young woman to follow him with a nod toward the office. The manager was out this afternoon, so it would be free.

Zane and Lance were going to pay for this.

He shut the door of the office with his foot. Still holding the surprisingly warm baby in his arms, he asked the woman if she’d like to sit.

She plopped into a chair and rolled her eyes like she was disgusted by his suggestion that she sit.

“Good joke. How did the Dogs convince you to go along with it?” Man, this girl could act. Contempt practically dripped from her.

“Who are the Dogs?” she asked.

“My best friends. Apparently, they think they’re comedians.”

“I’ll cut to the chase. My name’s Paulina Shore. Do you remember Katy Theisen? You had a one-night stand with her about nine months ago.”

Any moisture in his mouth evaporated. “Sure, yeah. I mean, of course I remember her.” Katy Theisen was a bartender in the town up north where he had spent several months working on a shopping mall deal. About nine months ago.

“Katy was my best friend. She died last week from complications of childbirth.” For the first time, Pauline’s expression wavered from livid to that of extreme sadness. Her body seemed to sag under the weight of grief as she sank into the armchair.

“Died? From childbirth?” Kyle perched on the edge of his desk. Mollie Blue shuddered.

“Yep. That’s what happens when you’re poor.”

“In America?” He knew poverty. It ran through his veins, like the blood of his family, unseen but there, waiting to remind him of the past he’d escaped from. Generations of poverty was his family legacy. Still, no one he knew had ever died from having a baby.

“Impoverished women are more likely to die in childbirth. It’s on the rise in rural areas. Look it up. I did when Katy died.”

He gazed at the baby in his arms. She’d fallen asleep. She’s sweet when she’s not howling. “I’m sorry to hear about Katy, but this isn’t my baby.”

“Katy wasn’t the type to sleep around. She knew Mollie was yours. Broken condom, dude.” She reached into the stroller and pulled out an envelope. “It’s all in here. The DNA test proves it.”

“But how?” How would she have had his DNA?

Pauline answered his silent question with a roll of her eyes. “Think about it. Stained sheets.”

“Don’t you need permission for that kind of thing?” he asked.

“Not when they sell DNA tests at Walmart.”

“Jesus, they do?”

“A guy like you should probably buy them in bulk,” she said. “Or maybe double up on condoms.”

The broken condom. He was always careful. Condoms were his friend. Until, like the night with Katy, one of the damn things broke. Water. He needed a glass of water.

A DNA test was undeniable.

This was his baby. His daughter.

He put Mollie back into the stroller. His arms felt light without her.

Paulina crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you dare judge Katy. You’re the one who couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

He flinched. “I wasn’t. I’m just in shock here. You could give me a chance to catch up.”

“Sorry.”

“What happened—I mean during the birth?”

“An infection they should’ve caught.” Paulina’s voice wavered again. “Look, it’s obvious you’re rich, so there’s no reason you can’t take care of your kid unless you’re a jerk. If that’s the case, then I suggest we put her into the system, so a nice couple can have her.” She scowled and blew her dirty bangs out of her eyes. “But I know Katy, and she would’ve preferred you take her. There’s nothing like flesh and blood.”

He laced his hands together behind his back. Sweat rolled down his spinal column. What was he supposed to do with a daughter? He could barely take care of himself. Should he give her up? Let someone else raise her? Surely anyone in the world would be better than him. He wasn’t father material. All anyone had to do was look at his past to see that truth.

He sucked in a deep breath. The air thinned like he’d reached a mountain peak. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, breathing hard.

An image of his mother pierced his consciousness. Skinny with those dull eyes, she stood by the front door with the tattered blue suitcase in her hand. I’m leaving. You look after your brother and sister.

His heart pounded harder. He staggered over to the desk and perched on the edge. The room tilted. Black dots danced before his eyes. His recently scrubbed skin burned. I can’t do it. Not this. Anything but this.

The day his mother left roared to life and played out in front of him.

Where are you going? Are you coming back?

He ran after her. The trailer door slammed behind him. Rain dumped from a stormy Oregon sky. Wait. Don’t go. Please, Mama. She pulled the hood of her faded raincoat over her head. A man stood waiting by the car. He grabbed her suitcase and tossed it into the back seat. Kyle slipped in the mud and fell. By the time he rose to his feet, they were gone, tire tracks on the muddy driveway their only legacy.

Now, he rubbed his eyes and looked over at Paulina. “I have money, but nothing else to offer her.” I’m a single, selfish womanizer with secret panic attacks.

“That’s better than most.”

Was it? Money would hire staff to help raise her. Yet, a daughter needed an emotionally healthy father, one who knew how to give and receive love. Not him. Anyone but him.

“I’m sorry about Katy. Truly. She was a sweet girl.”

“She was.” Paulina picked at the skin around a fingernail. Her nails were short—not trimmed neatly with clippers, but ragged and uneven, like those of a nail biter.

“Does Katy have any family?” he asked.

“No one. And I can’t keep her if that’s what you want to know.”

He didn’t say anything. No one would expect her to. She was young and probably broke. A baby was the last thing she needed, especially one that wasn’t hers.

“It hurts too much to look at her,” she said as if he’d asked a follow up question.

“Why?”

“Katy was my best friend. I thought this baby would ruin her life. I had no idea how right I was. I’ll just leave it at that.”

I can’t be like my mother. I must do the right thing. This is my child.

Kyle crossed back to the stroller and stared down at the sleeping infant. She was so small and helpless. He was her only family. It had to be him. He picked her up and cradled her close, catching a whiff of her head. “Her head smells good.”

“Yeah.”

With the baby in his arms, he went around the desk to sit in the chair before his legs collapsed under him.

“I know Katy wasn’t the type to go home with some loser she met at the bar,” he said.

“But she did.”

“I was having a rough night. She took pity on me.” He stroked the peach fuzz on Mollie’s head. Should she be wearing a hat? He touched the tips of her ears. They were cold. Should they be?

“That sounds like her.”

“It wasn’t my finest hour,” he said.

Paulina stood. “I’d love to stay for a gabfest, but I’ve got to go. There’s some formula and a few diapers in the stroller. You’ll need more. Get ready for some sticker shock.” This last part was muttered under her breath.

“I don’t know anything about how to take care of a baby.”

“There’s this thing called the internet,” she said.

Mollie squirmed in his arms and opened her eyes and looked directly into his. A strange feeling spread through his stomach, like warm soup sliding down the back of his throat and into his stomach on a cold day. He gritted his teeth, almost willing himself to remain distant. Mollie was having none of that. She pursed her mouth and blew a bubble before closing her eyes again.

At the door, Paulina turned back to him. “Good luck.”

“Wait, before you leave. Why didn’t she have an abortion?” Paulina shrugged. “She wasn’t the type—not a brain in her head when it came to that stuff. She thought it was meant to be—that God wanted her to have this baby. I guess she was wrong.”

“One more thing.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out several hundred dollars from a money clip. “Take this.”

Her eyebrows lifted. She stared at him like a feral animal, evaluating whether he wanted something in exchange.

“Please, take it,” he said. “Diapers and formula and everything probably set you back.”

“It did.” She took the money from the desk. “Katy said you were a good guy. Sad but nice. You’ll do fine with Mollie.” With that, Paulina disappeared.

***

Dazed, Kyle pushed the stroller out of the elevator and into the hallway, then used his keycard to enter the penthouse suite. Mollie woke with a whimper that within seconds turned into a howl. Hunger perhaps? Or a wet diaper? He recalled these ailments from movies. There might be a bottle of formula somewhere in the contraption, which now that he took a closer look, seemed like it had been rescued from the town dump. A stroller shouldn’t have rusted parts. He didn’t know much, but that seemed obvious.

What was the plan? Should he call one of his staff to come up and help him? Surely one of them would know what to do to make the baby stop crying. But no, he had to do this himself. If he let one of the staff see him this out of control, they’d lose all respect for him. He’d have to reason through this without help. The most important thing was to stop this poor mite from hurting herself with all this shrieking and flailing of limbs. He rolled the stroller inside and closed the door.

Seriously, how can something this little make such a commotion?

He lifted the squirming, screaming baby into his arms. She arched her back and kicked her arms and legs with surprising ferocity. The blanket fell to the floor. She wore an outfit that looked like a t-shirt with buttons. What was that heinous scent? The offensive odor came from the red-faced Mollie’s bottom. He almost gagged.

No question. First things first. He would change her diaper. Sure, no problem. He bought and developed real estate up and down the state of California. He could surely change one diaper.

He held her at arm’s length and made a shushing sound. She howled even louder. Great, he’d made her angrier. He carried her over to the sofa. Should he place her on there or would she fall off? What, with all the kicking and fussing, she might launch herself onto the floor.

The rug was safer. When he had her settled there, he sprinted back to the stroller. A bag hung from the back. He hadn’t noticed that until now. A diaper bag? Has to be. He unzipped it and found diapers and, hallelujah, a full bottle of what must be formula. There was also a box of cleaning wipes. No doubt these were for wiping the offensive bottom. Sweating, he brought all three items back to the baby.

You can do this. The little bug can’t sit around in a dirty diaper.

His hands shook as he unbuttoned the romper. Romper? Where had that word come from? He had no idea what a romper was, let alone if this was one. Whatever it was called, the outfit was cute, with little ducks scattered across the soft material. Mollie’s legs parted like they were attached to springs. Three snaps were in the center of the crotch area. Crotch area? Was that what it was called when referring to a baby? That didn’t seem right, especially for a baby girl. Never mind that. I must focus on the task.

He tugged at the snaps. Voilà. They loosened with no problem. This was genius, now that he looked at it more carefully. One could change the diaper without taking the entire outfit…or romper…off the baby. He lifted it up and over the diaper, despite her flaying limbs, then gasped. There was a horrific stump where her belly button should be. Pink and painful looking and covered with dried blood, it stared up at him like the head of a snake. “Does it hurt Mollie Blue?”

She kicked her legs in response.

He’d take that as a no.

Next, he lifted the sticky flaps that held the diaper on the baby. The smell was bad. He held his breath as he lifted her legs to slide the diaper from her puckered bottom. That’s when he saw it. A gooey substance the color of burned butternut squash soup stuck to every crevice of the little one’s private area.

The wipes? Surely this is what they were for. They’d better be superpowered if he was going to coax the goo from this bottom. Breathe through my mouth. He went in, holding her legs in one hand and swiping with the other. This was totally fine. He could do this.

A few swipes later, she looked clean. Should he use one more to make sure? Yes, he would. He’d heard of diaper rash. Given that goo, it would make sense that a rash could develop if not cleaned properly.

He reached behind him for another wipe. When he returned, a yellow puddle had stained the brand-new rug of his brand-new penthouse suite. He cursed under his breath and reached frantically for another diaper. His hands shook so badly and were so slick with sweat that it took several attempts to open the stupid plastic potential rug-saver. By the time he’d accomplished that task, Mollie was done urinating all over his rug. For heaven’s sake, what now?

But wait? What was this? Silence. She’d stopped howling. It must feel better to have the disgusting diaper away from her skin. And, taking a leak when one really had to go was always a happy relief.

He lifted her from the soaked area of the carpet to a fresh spot. This time he put the unfolded diaper under her bottom before he wiped her. “I’m a quick learner. Always put a diaper under you before turning away. And you’re much more pleasant when you’re not screaming.”

How many of these wipes would a parent use in one day? He’d already used a dozen. Sticker shock indeed.

Assured he had her nice and clean now, he fastened the diaper. Was that right? It looked a little crooked. One side had more of a gap—from which nasty fluids could leak. He repositioned the diaper and fastened it tighter and straighter. That should do it.

She whimpered. Was she cold? Maybe she needed a romper with legs. Was there such a thing? Never mind, he would feed her the bottle first. Then, he would call for backup.

He grabbed the bottle and settled with her on the couch. The moment he placed the bottle in her mouth, Mollie sucked with ravenous intent. Was there anything in her face that looked like him? She was a particularly pretty baby with dimples on either side of her mouth and ears close to her head. Not his ears, thankfully. He’d had ears that stuck out when he was a kid. Finally, around fifteen, his ugly mug grew into them.

Katy Theisen. He knew at the time it was wrong to sleep with her. She was an innocent, sweet and guileless. No match for his wicked charm. He knew it then and he knew it now. Like the broken condom, she was out of his normal mode of operation. His women, and yes, there were a lot of them, were female versions of himself. Sex was a game of fun. Physical connection only. No emotional intimacy allowed behind closed doors or anywhere else. Occasionally he made a mistake and misread a woman’s capacity for casual sex. Those were the times he got himself into trouble.

But that wasn’t the situation with Katy. It was the damn anniversary of the car accident that had made him vulnerable.

The day came around once a year, like a dark holiday. He anticipated the date for weeks beforehand, dreading his inevitable collapse into despair. Over thirteen years had passed since that day, but the memories were as easily refreshed as a drink in Zane’s bar. That night, nine months ago, they’d been brisk and relentless. To escape them, he’d taken a long run. Not even exercise or loud country music through his headphones could chase them from his mind. After his run, instead of collapsing into bed like he usually did after a day of work and punishing exercise, he got into the shower and scrubbed his skin raw. No relief. Without a plan other than to find a numbing mechanism, he wandered out of the hotel and into a little rundown, depressing bar that matched his mood and his memories.

Katy had been behind the bar. He hadn’t noticed her, too troubled to engage in his usual flirtatious antics with any attractive woman within the vicinity. She’d poured him a tumbler of the best scotch she had. After a few drinks, she’d started asking him questions. What was he doing in town? Why was he out alone? He’d started answering. Somehow, he couldn’t say precisely how, Katy had gotten him to talk about his sister. With lovely blue eyes and a sympathetic mouth and a way of cocking her head to the side when she listened, she dragged the past out of him like a magician pulled a never-ending scarf from his sleeve. Each time she tugged, a new aspect of the story slipped out of him.

He’d told her the whole sordid tale. That had surprised him most of all. Not even the Dogs knew the story of the one event that molded every single aspect of his adult personality. No one in his current life even knew he had siblings.

No one knew the story of Pig and the Miller Brothers either. He’d never shared it with another human being after he drove away from the little Oregon town where it had all unfolded. Until Katy. He cringed now, remembering how he’d cried. Too many drinks and a sympathetic woman had unhinged him. And guilt. Don’t forget guilt.

Katy had reminded him of Sheri from back home. Sheri Swanson with her kind heart and beautiful face. Gone too soon. That had been the title of the newspaper article when she’d died at fifteen. If he’d written the article he would have described her kindness, her utter intolerance to cruelty of any kind. Even to Pig. She’d been the only one who had been kind to him. Everyone hated Pig. They tortured him and taunted him. Not Sheri.

Katy didn’t know that Kyle. She had seen him as he was now—muscular, charming, rich. She’d seen him around town, she’d said. There’s something about a man in a suit.

They’d had sex. No doubt about that. Even as drunk as he’d been, he remembered her little apartment and the water stain on the ceiling above her bed. She’d told him this wasn’t the type of thing she did—bringing home a man she didn’t know. He would have liked to have said the same, but he didn’t lie to women. Yes, he slept with a lot of them, but he never lied, and he never promised anything he couldn’t deliver.

The sex had been sweet. Shy and inexperienced, she’d evoked a strangely protective feeling in him. When he realized the condom had broken, he’d hoped like hell she was on the pill. She fell asleep afterward, curled up like a child. He’d slipped out, hungover and ashamed. He’d taken advantage of a nice girl who was way too young for him and way too accommodating.

What the hell was he going to do now? He needed one of the women in his circle to come over and help him figure out what to do. Three of the Dogs were in steady relationships with women. His first thought was Brody’s wife, Kara. She was a nurse. No question she’d know what to do with a baby. That said, he wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing all this with her just yet. He didn’t know her well and she would probably be horrified that he had a baby from a one-night stand. It couldn’t be Maggie, Jackson’s wife, even though she was more compassionate than anyone in the world. She was on her way home from the city after an interview on a local television station. That left Zane’s fiancée, Honor. She was clearly the best choice. He needed someone who could help him sort out what to do and no one could figure a way out of a pickle better than Honor. Plus, she wouldn’t judge him. Or would she? It didn’t matter, really, because eventually he was going to have to tell everyone that instant fatherhood had been thrust upon him.

How did one use the phone while feeding a baby? He was stuck on the couch with baby pee soaking deeper into the carpet. There was nothing to do but let her finish and then he’d call Honor. No, first he’d call someone to clean up the pee and get rid of that heinous smelling diaper.

When Mollie Blue was done, she stared up at him with glazed blue eyes. Was he supposed to burp her? How was that done exactly? He’d seen women do it before. He lifted the baby up to his shoulder and patted her back. Not long after the fourth tap, a large burp erupted from her tiny body. Afterward, she snuggled into his shoulder and stopped squirming. She’d fallen asleep. Thank the good lord. He breathed in the scent of her head and closed his eyes. He’d never smelled anything better in his entire life.

Smells. The bane of his existence.

Pig. The taunts of his childhood echoed through his mind.

Take care of Mollie. Don’t think of the past. Not now.

He gingerly positioned her back in the stroller, figuring that was the closest thing he had to a crib. His hands shook when he punched in Honor’s number. She answered on the second ring.

“Hey dummy. What’s up?”

“I have a little situation.”

“What you’d do, get someone pregnant?”

His mouth dropped open.

“Kyle? Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here. I need you to come over to the resort. I’m staying in the penthouse this week.” He cleared his throat. “It’s urgent.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll explain when you get here.”

“I’m at Brody’s finishing up some work, but I can be there in ten minutes.” Honor was Brody’s manager and often worked from the office at his home. Brody was away in San Francisco for the football season and only came home occasionally.

After they hung up, he moved over to the bank of windows that looked out to the small town of Cliffside Bay. By design, the top floor of his resort looked out to the ocean. Today it reflected the ash-colored sky. Fall had come suddenly at the end of September. Now, just days into October, shades of gray replaced nuanced hues of blue. The landscape here reminded him of an independent woman. An expensive view was of no consequence to her. She approached and retreated as she wished, regardless of where you ranked in the human order of things. Rich or poor, young or old—no title or status were of any use to her. If she wanted to hide beneath a sheath of fog, she would. If she wanted to drown you in the powerful forces of her riptides, there was nothing to be done but succumb.

The main street of town was quiet today. Tourist season ended after Labor Day, leaving the sleepy town to doze. His new resort had opened several weeks ago. So far, the weekends were full, but during the week most rooms remained vacant. He wasn’t worried. The winter would be sluggish, but by spring every room would be booked. For the first time in the history of Cliffside Bay, there would be a place for tourists to stay. Someday he would build a house on the piece of property outside of town that he shared with Jackson. For now, he’d been content to make hotels or his friends’ homes his home. No need to commit to one place given his travel schedule. Up until now, that is. A baby changed everything.

What was he supposed to do with Mollie? He had multiple projects going, including a new shopping mall in a suburb up north. His calendar was packed with travel and meetings. A baby. He wasn’t a family guy. Nothing about him, neither his past nor his present, would give him a chance in hell of being a good father.

A knock on the door startled him. It was one of the housekeepers to clean the soiled rug. After he pointed it out, she dropped to the floor with a spray and a rag without comment. The staff knew better than to ask what in the name of God a baby was doing in his room. The boss was the boss.

No sooner had the maid left than Honor arrived. He put his finger to his lips before he allowed her inside the room. “I have a little situation.”

“So you said. What’s up?”

He gestured toward the stroller. “This.”

Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands. “What the what?” she asked through her fingers.

As quickly as he could, he told her of Mollie’s arrival. Then, he handed her the DNA test and the birth certificate. “So, there’s no question she’s mine.”

“Holy crap, this is a situation. A major situation.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

She placed her hands together under her chin. “Tell me what you’ve done so far.”

“I changed her diaper and fed her. By the way, no one should have to see what I just saw. She sucked down the only bottle of formula and I don’t know what to feed her if she wakes up.”

“Formula. You have to get more formula.”

“Okay. Where does one get that?”

“The store will have it. It comes in a powder. You just mix it up with water.”

“How do you know that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“I most definitely do not know that,” he said.

“It’s fine. That’s not the problem here.”

“No kidding.”

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“The condom broke.”

“Oh, Kyle. This is bad. Very bad.”

“I know.” He covered his face with his hands and sank onto the couch. “Jesus, what am I going to do?”

Honor sat across from him on the coffee table and placed her hands in the long strands of her blond hair. He’d never known what the term intelligent eyes had meant until he met Honor. “We need a plan.”

“Yes, a plan. A plan’s always good,” he said.

“First things first. We’ll send one of your staff out for supplies to get us through the next few days, but bottom line—you have to hire a nanny.”

“A nanny. Right. And where do we find one of those?” Not the same place as the formula. He knew that much.

“We’ll ask Nora to help us.”

“Great idea,” he said. Nora ran a small placement agency out of her home. She had the resumes of most residents of Cliffside Bay in her database. In fact, she’d helped his manager staff the entire resort. “Yes, Nora will know someone.”

“Until then, we need to get Violet over here,” Honor said.

“Violet Ellis?” His mouth twisted like it did when he bit into grapefruit. “I hate that woman.”

“I know. However, you’re going to have to put that aside for now. She’s the only one who knows how to take care of a baby.”

Violet Ellis was his arch enemy. With her chocolate brown eyes and silky caramel skin and her rock-hard yoga body, she looked like an angel. However, she worked like the devil to make his life miserable, including picketing the building of this very resort during its construction. He hated to admit it, but Honor was right. Violet would know how to take care of a baby because she was a single mother to three-year-old Dakota.

“She’s not going to help me. Violet despises me.” Just saying her name made him want to spit.

“She won’t be able to say no to a baby.” Honor moved to the stroller and peered down at Mollie. “What a doll.” The tremor in Honor’s voice betrayed her. A full hysterectomy at eighteen meant she would never have a baby of her own. Although she and Zane had adopted six-year-old Jubie, he suspected she wanted a baby of her own. Shame and self-hatred coursed through him. Why should he get a baby when poor Honor and Zane pined for one? I suck. Pig.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Honor said, looking over at him. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve accepted that I can’t have one of my own. We’ll figure out a way to have a baby. You don’t have to apologize for having one.”

“But I don’t deserve her and we both know I’m not qualified to take care of her.”

“Do you want to put her up for adoption?”

A tunnel of blackness blighted his vision. Images floated through the tunnel of his own lonely childhood. His father passed out on the couch with his arm slung over his eyes. The red dress his mother wore the day she left them. His sister’s mangled body on the highway. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m keeping her. When I look at her I get this feeling in my stomach.”

“It feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before, right?” Honor asked.

“Something warm and soothing but that stings at the same time.”

“That’s parental love. I felt it with Jubie right away, even though she was six when she came to us. Once you feel that, it’s all over.”

“I had such a bad childhood.” He paused, swallowing the tremor that had crept into his voice. “What if I can’t do this?”

“You can do it,” Honor said. “It’ll be the hardest and easiest thing you’ve ever done. Trust me.”

He sighed, resigned to his fate. Violet Ellis would have to come to his temporary home and help him with his very permanent daughter. “Call Violet.”

“I’ll call Violet.”

“Just until Nora can find someone else,” he said.

“It’s good timing, actually. Violet’s parents are coming back from South America and want their house back. She doesn’t have a new place, so she’d planned to stay with Kara and Brody. She could stay here with you instead.”

“Why can’t she stay with her parents until she finds a house?”

“Her dad didn’t know she and Dakota were living there.

Apparently, he doesn’t approve of her having a baby out of wedlock.”

“Does he think it’s 1952?”

“I guess so.” She dismissed the topic with a jerk of her hand. “Anyway, she’ll have to bring Dakota with her.”

“That’s fine.”

“I’ll make the call.”

 

Chapter 2: Violet

Violet Ellis’s Blouse stuck to her hot, damp skin. She couldn’t find her car keys. Her son’s church preschool closed in exactly four minutes. The teachers chastised parents if they were even thirty seconds late. For Christians, they were not especially forgiving of human failures. Last time she was late, the elderly Mrs. Knight had shaken her knobby finger right in Violet’s face and given a terse lecture about teaching children responsibility through one’s own example.

She never used to be late for anything. Her life used to be in perfect order: five minutes early to appointments, bills paid on time, house neat and orderly, clothes folded into perfect squares. She was a yoga teacher, for heaven’s sake. Sweating on a cool autumn day while madly searching for lost keys did not suit her. But the past few months of failure and humiliation had ripped through the fabric of her very existence. Her calm demeanor had eroded into a hot mess.

She yanked open drawers. This was an exercise in futility if there ever was one. The keys couldn’t have magically jumped into one of them. Even in her current state of dishevelment, she wouldn’t put keys into a drawer in which they didn’t belong. Then, where were they? She dumped the contents of her purse onto the counter. A pack of gum, hairbrush, cell phone, wallet, hair tie, and lipstick tumbled onto the bare counter. Nothing unusual, other than the fact her keys were not in there.

Fighting tears of frustration, she circled the kitchen. A shiny object glistened on the windowsill by the breakfast nook. The keys. How in the name of God had they gotten there? There were no pets to blame and Dakota had been at preschool all morning. She grabbed the keys and ran out the door. Exactly two minutes to get down the hill and to the church by five o’clock. It was a physical impossibility.

Violet’s hands dampened the steering wheel as she turned out of her parents’ driveway and onto the narrow road that headed down the hill. A drop of sweat dribbled between her breasts. She hated this quality about herself—this apologetic and nervous attitude when confronted with authority figures. Who cared if cranky Mrs. Knight was annoyed at her? Violet certainly did enough volunteer work for the preschool and the church to be given a late pass occasionally.

This character flaw explained every single bad decision she’d ever made. When given a choice, she always succumbed to authority. Her father’s hypercritical parenting had made her desperate to please. Not that it mattered. Whatever she did wasn’t good enough for him.

The parking lot of the church was empty. Fantastic, that meant she was the only late parent. How were the other mothers so perfect?

A drizzle dampened her overheated face as she sprinted into the building. Mrs. Knight and Dakota sat outside the classroom on the naughty bench. The children were sent there to think about how to make better choices. Violet thought that was such a stupid expression. Choices. They were preschoolers, not taxpaying adults.

“Hi, Mama.” Dakota grinned and scooted from the bench to run toward her. “I’m in trouble because you’re late.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Knight. I couldn’t find my keys,” Violet said.

Dakota wrapped his arms around her legs and looked up at her.

“Wasn’t that the excuse last week?” Mrs. Knight folded her arms over her abundant chest and pinched her eyelids into narrow slits. Shame. Well played, Mrs. Knight. She would not cry in front of this mean woman. No one could be expected to remain strong under the disappointing gaze of Mrs. Knight, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fake it until she got out to the car.

“I’m sorry,” Violet said again. “Between closing my shop and moving, I’ve been scattered.”

“Miss Ellis, life will always present challenges. The important thing is to rise to said challenges.”

“Yes, I know. I’m trying.” Violet inwardly cringed at the conciliatory tone of her voice. Allowing this battle-axe to bully her over being a few minutes late was silly. She was so tired. Her defense mechanisms had evaporated under the pressure of the last few weeks. She bit the inside of her lip, trying not to cry.

Dakota, however, didn’t crumble under the hot beams of Mrs. Knights eyes. His protective instincts seemed to kick in when he heard the tremble in his mother’s voice. He crossed his arms over his chest in a perfect mimic of his teacher. “Mama said sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t always enough,” Mrs. Knight said.

“You say sorry to Mama now,” Dakota said. “You were mean.”

“Young man, you will spend the first five minutes of tomorrow on this very bench,” Mrs. Knight said.

“I don’t care,” Dakota said.

Violet almost laughed despite the tears that stung her eyes. She must keep it together or he’d have ten minutes on the naughty bench before they were out of here. “Dakota, we should always be respectful to adults,” Violet said. “Please apologize to Mrs. Knight.”

He looked up at her like she’d just suggested they join the circus. “I won’t. Not until she says sorry to you.”

“Despite his above average intelligence, this is just the kind of rebellious behavior that will keep him from a good college,” Mrs. Knight said.

College? That was a stretch.

“I’ve seen it a hundred times. Brats in preschool turn to drugs and a life of crime.” Mrs. Knight stood, her impressive girth now only inches from them.

Violet stared at her new nemesis, so stunned she couldn’t think of what to say next.

“Tell me you’re sorry.” Mrs. Knight glowered down at Dakota.

He stepped closer to her and stared right back at her. “I will not.”

“Da-Dakota…” Violet stammered.

“That’s it. You’ll spend all day on this bench tomorrow.” Mrs. Knight’s face had turned the color of a cooked beet. Faint white whiskers on her upper lip glistened with perspiration.

“I don’t care,” Dakota said. “I hate it here anyway.”

“You do?” He did? She thought he loved school. When she picked him up, he smiled and bounced like a brightly colored beach ball.

Dakota stepped closer to his mother and took her hand. “Let’s go, Mama. I’ll cheer you up at home.”

“He apologizes to me or he cannot come back to school,” Mrs. Knight said. “This is what happens when a child doesn’t have a father. Born in sin becomes sin.”

“How dare you,” Violet said. “You don’t know anything about our life.”

“I know you have no husband and a very rude little boy,” Mrs. Knight said.

Dakota tugged on her hand. “Let’s go, Mama.”

“Let me tell you something, Mrs. Knight. I’m doing the best I can to raise a person who is kind and generous, like Jesus asks of us. You are not the kind of example I want for my son. He will not be back. Not tomorrow. Not ever. And you can bet your ass I’m going to tell anyone who will listen how utterly terrible you are with children. I’m not sure why someone like you would become a teacher in the first place.” Violet turned away and let her little son lead them down the hallway of the church basement and up the stairs to the main floor.

Rain fell harder now. She tilted her face to the sky and let the drops cool her overheated skin. Dakota continued to squeeze her hand. At the car, he climbed obediently into his car seat and raised his arms so she could buckle him in.

Once settled into the driver’s seat, she turned on her windshield wipers. This was the first earnest rain of the year and these wipers were no match for it. They barely scraped the water from the glass. Her old car might not make it through the winter. Two hundred thousand miles might be its limit. Old Zelda was as tired as she. The only difference was that Violet was twenty-eight and shouldn’t feel two hundred.

She pulled out of the church parking lot and onto the main street. “Mama, you said ass.”

“Dakota Ellis, that’s a bad word.”

She looked at him in the rearview mirror. He nodded, looking earnest and serious. “I know, Mama. That’s why you shouldn’t say it.”

“Okay, but you don’t say it just because I did. You could have just said that I said a bad word and not said the word itself.”

His big blue eyes blinked as he stared back at her. “Okay, Mama. I’m sorry.”

How complex her little guy was. He could quickly apologize to her but not that old battle-axe.

“Do you really hate school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you don’t have to go now.” How was she going to get a job if he had no preschool to go to?

She turned the wipers on high speed, which did nothing to influence their competency.

The plan was to live with Kara and Brody Mullen until she could find a place of her own. When you’re the best quarterback in the AFL, houses with several wings come with the territory. Fortunately for her, the Mullens were generous people. Thank God, she could use their home as a temporary residence. There were no places to rent in Cliffside Bay. Not that it mattered if there were any. She didn’t have a job. Plus, there was a mountain of debt from her small business loan. Landlords didn’t rush to rent to people like her.

They passed the empty building where her shop had been. Since she walked into a store back in Boston that sold items made from recyclable or refurbished material, she’d dreamt of opening one of her own. She’d felt sure it would be a hit in Cliffside Bay. She’d been wrong. A purse made from old tires or jewelry twisted from chicken wire—who wouldn’t love that? Apparently, most of the people who walked into her shop. Nothing to do now. It was over, done, finished. Inventory had been returned to vendors. The accounting books were closed. She was officially a failure.

She’d rented her side of the building from the owners of the town’s bookstore. The owners were retiring and had sold the bookstore business and the building to Lance Mullen, Brody’s younger brother. Fortunately, Lance had graciously let her out of her lease with no penalties. Soon, the walls between her shop and the bookstore would be torn down to make way for a bigger space. Lance planned to merge an old-fashioned soda fountain, coffee shop, and bookstore into one space. Mary Hansen, a former librarian, would run the bookstore portion of the business. Lance had offered Violet a job as a clerk when they were ready to open, but that was months away. She needed a job now.

A job for a person with no skills in a small town with few opportunities? It was a tall order. As she often did when thinking about how exactly her life had gone so epically into the dumpster, she blamed her father. If he’d allowed her to attend UC Berkeley instead of demanding she attend a conservative Christian college back east she might have a career in the environmental studies.

You go where I want, or I won’t pay. Off she went with her suitcase and her bible.

Violet was about to turn onto her street when the phone rang. It was Honor. She’d called every morning and afternoon for weeks to check up on her.

“Hey, Honor. I’m fine.”

“Hey girl. So, we have a little situation.”’

“A situation? Is Jubie okay?” Sometimes she asked for parenting advice. Like I know what I’m doing.

“Yeah, she’s great. It’s…Kyle.”

“Kyle? What does that have to do with me?” She despised Kyle Hicks. Loathed. Abhorred. He was nothing but a greedy planetimploder with no respect for the past or the future. His irresponsible resort had opened just as she closed her shop. If that wasn’t a sick irony, she didn’t know what was.

“Well, there’s a baby here. Kyle’s baby. We don’t know how to take care of her.”

“A baby?”

“He didn’t know about her until today. She was kind of left on the doorstep, so to speak.”

“Could the guy be any more of a cliché? What did he do, just get some girl pregnant and take off?”

“Not exactly like that. Yes, on the pregnant part. But he didn’t know she was pregnant. It was more of a one-night type of thing.”

Reckless, careless, immature Kyle Hicks.

“Where’s the baby’s mother?” Violet asked.

“She died from complications of childbirth.”

“That’s awful,” Violet said.

“The baby—Mollie Blue—she’s only a week old and there was only one bottle of formula and she already ate that and now we don’t know what to do. We need you.”

Mollie Blue. What a sweet name. A little girl. In Kyle Hicks’ hands? The poor child didn’t have a chance.

“I’ll come, but only for the baby. Make sure you tell Kyle that it’s not for him.”

“Trust me, he knows that already.”

“Where are you guys?” Violet asked, turning the car in the other direction.

“The penthouse suite at the resort,” Honor said.

“Of course he’s in the penthouse suite.” He disgusts me. “I’ll be right there, but I have Dakota with me.”

“Totally fine. And thanks. I realize he isn’t your first choice of someone to help.”

“He’s not even my last choice,” Violet said.

***

Violet hadn’t stepped inside of the Cliffside Bay Resort and Spa until today. She’d spent plenty of time on the outside while they were building this blight on the land. With a picket sign in her hand. Little good it did. Kyle Hicks just went right on with his plans to clear acres of trees and meadows. For what? To build a resort in what should have remained an isolated and pristine area of the world. His sole purpose was money.

She had to admit the lobby was beautiful. Breathtaking, even. The room seemed like something from the past, a more elegant and sophisticated time where women wore gowns to dinner and men still opened doors. White marble floors, a fountain, and a sweeping stairway that led to a glittering restaurant on the second floor reminded her of something out of The Great Gatsby. She half expected Daisy to come down the stairs with a long cigarette hanging from her mouth.

She instructed Dakota to hold onto her hand. “No running or shouting in here. You got it?”

“Yes, Mama.”

They crossed the lobby. As they passed the fountain, Dakota’s gait slowed. She knew he wanted to put his grubby fingers in the spray. This could not happen. There would not be a second accusation of poor mothering skills today. Once was quite enough.

“Dakota, no touching.”

“I know, Mama.”

She spotted the concierge desk near the glass doors that opened to a terrace. Was that Joan Adams at the desk? It was. What was she doing working for the enemy? Joan Adams had lived in Cliffside Bay all her life and had once worked at the feed store, which was currently being torn down to make way for Zane Shaw’s new brewery. Sadly, no one needed farm and garden supplies. Beer, however, was popular with both tourists and townspeople. Yet another business morphing their secret town into a tourist destination.

Mrs. Adams looked up from her computer screen. “Good afternoon, Miss Ellis. Welcome to Cliffside Bay Resort and Spa.” She slid a keycard across the shiny surface of the desk. “Mr. Hicks is expecting you. You’ll need the keycard to access the top floor.”

“How have you been, Mrs. Adams? I didn’t know you were working here.”

“Yes, Miss Ellis. I was one of the first employees. It’s a pleasure to serve you.” Mrs. Adams sounded like a polite robot. What had Kyle done to her?

“Why are you talking so weird?” Violet whispered.

She lowered her voice. “Our manager likes us to speak formally, even if we know the guests. Stellar customer service begins and ends with precision and attention to detail.”

“You used to sneak me a candy every time my dad took me to the feed store. Formality is a little ridiculous.”

“Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.” Mrs. Adams’ mouth stretched into a smile, but her eyes were pleading with Violet to let it go.

Letting go wasn’t Violet’s strongest attribute.

“How could you sell out like this?” Violet asked.

“Sell out?”

“This place is like the devil moving into town.”

“That’s a bit of an overstatement,” Mrs. Adams said.

“You’ve lived here all your life. How could you agree to work for a business that…that poor excuse for a man Kyle Hicks tore down the forest for?”

“Kyle Hicks is a wonderful man. Smart and fair.” She lowered her voice again. “And he’s quite handsome. If I was a young woman, I wouldn’t hesitate to flirt my way into his heart.”

Violet stared at her, horrified. What was wrong with this world? “He’s a money-grubbing pig.”

There was a brief pause as Mrs. Adams looked at her hands. When she looked up, her voice had dropped to just above a whisper. “This resort—Kyle Hicks—brought over a hundred jobs to this town. I don’t know if you’ve noticed from your parents’ enormous home where you live for free and dabble in your little store, but we need these jobs. I need this job. My husband’s not well enough. I’m an old lady. No one wants to hire me. But Kyle Hicks did. He and Mr. Kauffman, our manager, said no training was necessary. They would teach me everything I needed to know. I won’t hear one bad word out of your mouth about him, young lady.”

Violet flooded with heat, embarrassed and angry all at once. Why did everyone in this town feel it necessary to lecture her today? “I didn’t know Mr. Adams was sick.”

“He has rheumatoid arthritis,” Mrs. Adams said.

“I’m sorry,” Violet said. “My dad has that too.”

“You didn’t know. Still, sometimes you need to think about people over causes.”

“I am thinking about people. I’m thinking about the health of our planet. We only have one, you know. I’d like it to still be here for my son.”

“We all saw you down here with your picket sign, and frankly, it was embarrassing. I thought you had better manners than that.”

“Manners? What is everyone’s obsession with manners? Sometimes manners are exactly opposite of what we need. Nothing ever changes without protest. Women who make a difference in the world are rarely polite.”

“It must be nice to have time and money to think of such high ideals. I’m too busy paying for my husband’s medicines to concern myself with such things.”

“I’ll have you know I closed my store last week. It’s all over. Finished. I have no place to live either now that my parents—who were so dedicated to manners—are coming back to town. I’m pretty worried about feeding my son, so I don’t appreciate the lecture.” Violet stopped. If she started crying in front of Mrs. Adams in the middle of this glossy lobby, she would die right there on the spot.

Dakota tugged on her hand. “Mama, I see Honor.”

Honor. Thank God. A way to escape.

Violet picked up the keycard from Mrs. Adam’s desk and sniffed. “Have a great day, Mrs. Adams.”

“You as well, Miss Ellis.”

Dakota broke from her grip and sprinted across the lobby toward Honor. Violet cringed when he shouted Honor’s name and leapt into her arms. So much for quiet. She glanced at the front desk. Thankfully, busy with guests, Mrs. Adams and the rest of the staff weren’t paying any attention. An older woman sitting on a lounge chair looked up from her magazine to smile at Violet. “What a darling boy.”

Violet thanked her and quickened her pace. Honor and Dakota were by the elevators. Apparently, her son had managed to tell Honor the entire story of their altercation at school.

“So now I can’t go to school,” Dakota said.

“Are you sad about that?” Honor asked.

“No. I don’t like that old battle-axe.”

“Dakota! Where did you hear that word?” Violet asked.

“You said it today.” Dakota wrinkled his forehead as if she were the most perplexing woman on the planet. Maybe she was.

“Never mind that. Honor, what can we do to help with the baby?”

“Baby 101, that’s what,” Honor said as they followed her into the elevator. “We had one of the staff go out and get formula and diapers.” She put a keycard into a slot and punched the top floor button.

The elevator moved. Dakota squealed. “Elevator, Mama.”

Violet’s stomach lurched as they came to a stop. They all exited into a hallway. A plush, sage-green carpet felt wonderful under her feet, like walking on a firm mattress. She would love to take off her shoes and let it soothe her tired feet. The scent of lilies from a vase on a rectangular table tickled her nose. Where did he get lilies this time of year? Probably flown in from some third world country for exorbitant amounts of money. None of which trickled down to the poor farmers who grew them.

“Dakota, this is a very special floor,” Honor said. “Kyle’s a part owner so he stays in the very nicest suite in the whole resort.”

“Wow,” Dakota said.

“He’s not Superman,” Violet said under her breath.

Honor shot her a look. “Be nice. You have the power right now.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” Violet said.

“Stop being so grumpy,” Honor said. “Wait until you see this baby. She’s precious. Seriously, you’ll want to eat her up.”

“Eat a baby?” Dakota asked.

“Not really,” Honor said. “It just means she’s yummy. I mean, she’s pretty and I just want to kiss her all over.”

“Oh,” Dakota said. “That’s weird.”

“I have a thing for babies,” Honor said. “What can I say?”

Violet flushed with shame. Honor couldn’t have a baby of her own. Seeing a newborn must hurt. And here was cavalier Kyle Hicks with one just dropped into his lap like everything else in the man’s life.

They reached the door of the suite. Honor didn’t bother to knock; she simply pressed the keycard against the door and entered, gesturing for Violet and Dakota to follow.

“Don’t be loud,” Violet said to Dakota. “The baby might be sleeping.”

Dakota mimicked her finger to her lips and made a shushing sound.

When they entered the suite, Violet had to physically restrain herself from gasping out loud. The suite was magnificent. The same white marble floors as the lobby shone under the light of a chandelier made of sparkling glass. Posh, richly hued furniture in greens and purples, fluffy rugs, and glass tabletops with silver trim were arranged in geometric perfection. Paintings of various bright and vibrant flowers decorated the creamy sage walls. The bank of windows looked out on the entire town of Cliffside Bay, surrounding country roads, forests, and meadows. If it weren’t foggy today, you would be able to see the endless waters of the Pacific.

She quickly forgot all of that at the sight of Kyle Hicks with a baby in his arms. A spot of sunshine had broken through the gray sky and washed the room and the man in a warm glow. She drew closer, mesmerized. He cradled the baby against his chest and softly sang “You Are My Sunshine.” Kyle Hicks knew a lullaby. Go figure.

He looked up from the baby and smiled at her. Triumph glittered in his deep blue eyes. “I got her to sleep,” he whispered before his gaze turned back to Mollie. Those thick, black lashes didn’t belong on a man. Whatever. That was of no consequence. Pretty is as pretty does.

She glanced around the room. A dilapidated stroller was parked over by the couch. “It’s like 1972 is looking for its stroller.”

Honor laughed from across the room where she had Dakota on her lap.

“No, seriously,” Violet said. “You must never use that again. It’s not safe.”

An empty bottle and a used diaper sat on the coffee table. Apparently neither Honor nor Kyle knew how to roll a dirty diaper because it was wide open with the baby’s last deposit displayed for all the world to see. Violet rushed to the table and arranged the diaper into a tight ball.

They needed a diaper pail or things were going to get stinky very fast.

“What do we do first?” Honor asked.

“Kyle, put the baby on the ottoman here.” Violet pointed to the large ottoman adjacent to the armchair near a gas fireplace. “She’ll be nice and warm there.” She instructed Dakota to switch on the fire. He leapt from Honor’s lap and gleefully pushed the switch.

“What if she rolls off?” Kyle asked.

“She can’t roll yet,” Violet said. “We’ve got weeks and weeks before she can do anything close to rolling.”

Violet grabbed the pink blanket from the couch. “Before you put her down, we need to swaddle her.”

“Swaddle?” he asked.

“I’ll show you how,” she said.

Surprisingly, Kyle followed her directions and put the baby in the center of the blanket.

“Does she seem healthy?” Kyle pointed to her head. “What’s that dent there?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Violet said. “All babies have that when they’re first born.” She gently caressed the soft dent in Mollie’s head, remembering when Dakota had been that age. “I didn’t know that when Dakota was born. I freaked out.” The plates of the head had to fully grow together. Her nurse at the hospital had kindly explained it to her. She now explained this to Kyle.

“What about her eyes? Do you think she can see out of them?” Kyle asked.

“You mean because they look kind of glassy?” she asked.

Kyle nodded.

“Totally normal. All white babies are born with blue eyes that look like this. They turn their real color later.”

Kyle nodded again. His eyes looked like a startled animal’s. Arrogant Kyle Hicks, all shook up.

She deposited the blanket on the ottoman and instructed him to put the baby in the middle. “Now you wrap her up like a burrito, as tight as you can get it.”

“Won’t it hurt her?” Kyle asked.

“No. They like it. Mimics the womb,” Violet said, amazed how fast all this came back to her. She hadn’t had the luxury of anyone advising her. Not that she needed anyone. Books had everything a new parent needed to know. If you had a chance to read them before the baby appeared on your doorstep.

“We need a plan.” Honor glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ve got to pick up Jubie in thirty minutes.”

“You need supplies,” Violet said. She explained the need for a crib, pacifier, car seat, stroller, and changing table.

“Can you rent that stuff?” Kyle asked.

Violet shook her head. “No, but you can buy them online and have them rush delivered.”

“Right.” Kyle let out a deep breath. “I’m not thinking clearly.”

Honor patted his arm and drew him over to sit on the couch. “You look a little pasty. I think we need to get some food in you.”

“We can call for room service,” Kyle said. “Whatever you guys want.”

From over by the window where Dakota had decided a knickknack of a seashell was better as a truck, replete with engine noises, he looked up, suddenly interested. “Can I have a cheeseburger?”

“Absolutely. If it’s okay with your mom. Do you let him eat meat?” Kyle asked.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Violet asked. What was it with this guy? Did he have to make a case about everything?

“Can I have a milkshake?” Dakota asked.

“If your mom says yes, then I say yes,” Kyle said. “Your mom’s saving me right now.”

“You can have one for dessert. Burger first,” Violet said.

“Yes, Mama.”

“After we order dinner, let’s get on the internet and order what we need,” Violet said.

“How much is this going to cost me?” Kyle asked.

“Why are you worried about money?” Violet asked.

“I’m not worried. Old habits die hard, that’s all,” Kyle said.

Was he referring to an impoverished childhood? Despite herself, curiosity poked through her annoyance. No one knew much about his past, other than he’d come to USC as an emancipated adult.

“It’s a little late to worry about money now,” she said in a tone sharper than she meant. “You made a baby and now you have to pay to take care of her.”

“I get it. Back off with the judgey tone,” he said.

“I’m not judging you.”

“Yes, you are, but it’s fine,” Kyle said. “I don’t care what you or anyone else think about me. I haven’t for a long time. Regarding furniture, I want the best. Top of the line.”

“Of course, you do,” Violet said.

“Didn’t you just lecture me that I need to take care of my daughter?” Kyle’s eyes darkened when he was annoyed. She’d noticed that before. They darkened every time she was anywhere within his vision.

***

After Honor left, they ordered dinner and went to work. In less than forty-five minutes, they’d ordered furniture and the other supplies. Shopping was speedy when you simply ordered the most expensive item in every category. Violet kept her opinions to herself. Who cared if this guy wanted to waste his money on designer names? It wasn’t her concern.

Mollie Blue woke up and began to cry the moment they all sat down to eat.

“It’s a baby thing,” Violet said. “They have some kind of radar to ensure you never eat an entire meal or get an entire night’s sleep.”

Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “I’m starving.”

Despite her intentions to the contrary, she softened. “You eat. I’ll feed her this time.”

“She probably needs to be changed first,” Kyle said.

She looked over at him, surprised. “You catch on quick.”

“That’s what it was last time anyway,” Kyle said.

While the boys ate, Violet changed Mollie’s diaper and fixed a bottle from the powdered formula, careful to read the directions. She’d breastfed Dakota exclusively.

“Is it supposed to be warm or cold?” Kyle asked.

“Room temperature is fine, but they prefer if it’s the temperature of breast milk.”

“What the heck temperature is that?”

“Body temperature. See here?” Violet sprayed a small amount of formula on her forearm. “If you can’t feel either hot or cold then it’s the exact temperature of a person’s body. Whatever you do, don’t heat a bottle in the microwave. Hot spots.”

“Hot spots? What is that?”

“Hot spots in the water that could burn her. Microwaves don’t heat liquids evenly.”

“Jesus. I had no idea.”

“It’s all right. You know now.”

Violet sat in the armchair and placed the bottle in Mollie’s mouth. The baby sucked with no fussing, which meant she probably had not been breastfed. How sad to think the child would never know her true mother. The poor woman. To leave before they could know each other was incomprehensible and so unfair. She wondered, too often, how God let a tragedy like this happen. What had an innocent little baby ever done to deserve this fate? Her father would say that it was not our place to ask, but Violet had a few questions she planned on asking God when she arrived in heaven. Mollie would be on the top of the list of questions, right after how did a man like Cole Lund thrive despite his hypocrisy?

Cole Lund. America’s Pastor. Dakota’s father. Someone else’s husband. She’d been naive to believe he loved her.

She’d gone to work for him after leaving college. His strategic seduction had taken time. It started with lunches, then dinners out, all under the pretense of a working meal. As one of the administrators to the pastor staff, her job was to take notes while he brainstormed sermon ideas or plans for church growth. After a few months, he started dropping by her apartment in the evenings to ask her opinion on a sermon or a staff decision. Flattered and beguiled, she’d let him kiss her one night after he confessed to his feelings. I can think of nothing but you.

America’s Pastor, as it turned out, could think of other things besides Violet Ellis—his status in the church, his family, his Mercedes where he’d first placed his hand on her knee. When she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her so fast she could almost hear the thump of her head hitting the proverbial curb. That night, a man showed up on her doorstep with a check and a threat. Tell anyone and you won’t live long enough to give birth. Don’t come back to work. Don’t contact him ever again.

A sliver of loneliness crept of her spine. She was alone with her questions, alone with her mistakes.

Violet stroked the peach fuzz on Mollie’s head. “What a pretty one you are,” she said under her breath.

Mollie was a concentrated eater with an occasional appreciative grunt. Although, they should have Jackson or Kara give her an exam right away. She said as much to Kyle.

“Doctors? But she isn’t sick, is she?”

She almost laughed at his worried expression. Welcome to parenthood.

“No, it’s just standard for newborns to have frequent visits for checkups. They weigh and measure them and make sure they’re thriving. They call them ‘well-baby visits’.”

Kyle ran both hands through his hair as he crossed the room and sat on the coffee table across from her. “I don’t know what I’m doing. This is a disaster.”

“You’ll be fine.” She smiled, remembering her first few weeks as a mother. “I thought they were insane when the hospital sent me home with Dakota after less than twenty-four hours. I told the nurses I had no idea what I was doing, and I had no one to help me. They assured me I would be fine and to trust my instincts. I wanted to say, but I have no instincts. I’m too young for this. And my mother wasn’t speaking to me—I didn’t tell them that part, but seriously, I had no one. That said, the nurses were right. It all fell into place. Although, Dakota was an easy baby. For one thing, he was giant. He weighed nine pounds when he was born.”

“How did nine pounds come out of you?” He gestured toward her narrow hips.

“It wasn’t pretty. At all.” He’d ripped her in several places. She wasn’t sure everything was good down there, even now. It would require having sex with someone to find out, which seemed unlikely to happen anytime soon.

“Are bigger babies better?” he asked. “Because she doesn’t seem very big.”

“I’d guess she’s just over six pounds. I’ve heard the smaller they are, the longer it takes them to sleep through the night. They have to eat more frequently than a big fat baby like Dakota.”

“Sleep. How am I going to work and take care of her by myself?” His eyes had darkened to the color of the night sky just after twilight when the first of the stars appear.

“You’ll hire a nanny for during the day and a nanny for the nights. Once she starts to sleep through the night, you’ll be fine with just a day nanny.”

“There’s such a thing as a night nanny?”

“Yes, all rich people have them.”

“They do?” he asked.

“A lot of rich people have them.”

“Did you have one?” he asked.

A bitter taste at the back of her throat prevented her from a sarcastic laugh. “I couldn’t afford one. My parents had disowned me. I was solo. Fortunately, Dakota slept through the night at six weeks.”

“Six weeks? That seems like forever.” The corners of his mouth turned downward. “This cannot really be happening.”

It was almost endearing how bewildered and frightened he was. Almost, but not quite. This was Kyle Hicks. Rich and self-satisfied with little regard for anyone but his smug, attractive self. “It’ll be fine. Looking back, those weeks were just a blip on the radar. Honestly, cherish every moment. Before you know it, she’ll be three.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this. Truly.”

“Do you have younger siblings?” Violet asked.

He looked away, scratching behind his ear. “Yeah. A brother and a sister.”

“Do you remember helping with them at all?” She couldn’t recall ever hearing that he had siblings. Not that she exactly asked around about Kyle Hicks.

“No. They were two and four years younger than me. I don’t remember anything under the age of six.”

“I was an only child, so I had the same problem. No memories to recall—like my mom did this, so I’ll do this. I couldn’t ask her either, since she wasn’t speaking to me.”

“Were they that uptight for real?”

“My parents are very religious.” She glanced at Dakota. He was dipping a french fry into his vanilla shake without a thought to what the adults were doing or saying. She lowered her voice anyway. “They were mortified I was pregnant without a husband.”

“Kind of antiquated, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know the half of it. My dad’s a real charmer.” She rolled her eyes to hide the pain behind those words.

“I’d choose supporting my daughter over any belief system I’d read in stories written a long time ago.”

Not religious. Duly noted.

“Don’t look like that,” he said, matching her subdued volume. “I’m not a total heathen. All I’m saying is that if I had a daughter like you and a grandson like Dakota, I’d be proud, whether you had a husband or not. The fact that Dakota’s father bailed tells me everything I need to know. Good riddance. Take it from me. No dad is better than one who doesn’t want to be there.”

She stared at him, shocked. A dozen questions floated across her mind. Had he given her a compliment? What was his father like? Instead, she surprised herself by sharing something of her own father.

“My dad hasn’t spoken to me in almost four years. We’ve been staying at their house without his knowledge. My mom kept it from him. Their house burned down in South America, so they have to come home. If it weren’t for Brody and Kara, I’d be majorly screwed right now.”

He ran his hands through his hair once more. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about your shop. Lance said he offered you a few months free rent, but you turned him down.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged as Mollie took one last suck and then shook the nipple from her mouth. Violet gathered her to her shoulder and patted her back until a nice loud burp erupted. “Good girl.”

“Here, I’ll take her,” Kyle said.

Violet placed her in his arms. He kissed Mollie’s head. “She smells so good,” he said.

“They always do.”

“Why didn’t you take Lance up on it?” Kyle asked.

“Have you ever heard the term ‘bleeding cash’?”

Kyle grimaced as he cradled Mollie closer to his chest. “I’m familiar, yes.”

“It was more than just rent. The whole shop was a failure.” She looked away, embarrassed by the tremor in her voice. “I’m not cut out for business, I guess.”

“A lot of successful people had early failures. Most successful people.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have no place to live and a son without daycare.”

“What happened to daycare?”

“We had an incident today. I was late, and I got into it with Mrs. Knight. He’s no longer welcome.”

“You have a bit of a temper, don’t you?” He raised his eyebrows, teasing her. It wasn’t funny.

“I do not have a temper, but I won’t be pushed around. Not anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Never mind that. Anyway, I need to focus on paying down my debt and finding a job.” Stop talking. He doesn’t need to know all this. Keep your guard up. This is the enemy.

He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. “This is going to sound crazy…given our past, but we both need something the other could provide. I need a nanny. You need a place to live and a job where you can bring your son to work. What if you moved in here with us for a while? There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms. You and Dakota could have one and I’ll take the other with Mollie. You can have the day shift, and I’ll pay you twice the going rate for a full-time nanny, plus free room and board. You can get back on track financially, and I can rest easy that Mollie will be taken care of by someone I trust.”

You trust me?

“I’d ask only that you stop picketing my building.” He smiled, but it stung just the same.

“It’s done now. There’s nothing to picket. You’ve already ruined the land and the town.”

“Ruined? Really? Do you actually believe that?”

“You don’t get it and you never will,” Violet said.

He sighed and kissed Mollie’s head again. “That’s probably true. But we can agree to disagree, right? Just say yes. I promise to play nice from now on.”

“What about the night nanny?”

“I don’t want one. If I have you during the day and someone else at night, it means nothing’s left for me. She’s my baby and I should be the one up with her at night. I should be the one who feeds her and comforts her. You did it.”

You say that now.

“I know you don’t believe I can do it,” Kyle said. “For all I know, you might be right. But I should try. I have to try. I can’t bail on my kid like my parents did. I have to be present.”

“So, you’re really doing this?”

“I have to.” He stood and rocked the baby in his arms, gazing down at Mollie. His expression softened. Had he fallen in love with his baby already? “I mean, look at her. She’s perfection. I can’t let her down. I won’t.”

Two sudden thoughts flooded her resolve to remain strong. I wish a man would look at Dakota that way. I wish a man would look at me that way.

The first step was to recover financially. If she had to work for the enemy, then so be it. Plus, she’d get to hold sweet Mollie every day. A job where she could be with her son every day was the best she could do.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“Let’s try it for a month. Trial period only.”

“Fine, that’s reasonable.”

He bent over the baby again. His black hair shone in the lamplight. Was it as silky as it looked? No, no, no. This is the man you hate.

He represented everything in this world she loathed.

Or, did he?

She would never have predicted his reaction to the sudden appearance of a baby. Additionally, there were the references to his childhood. Had he grown up in poverty? Were his parents cold like her own? Were these the reasons he was so driven to succeed? Honor had suggested as much before, but Violet had dismissed it, assuming their friend was overstating to persuade her that he wasn’t so bad.

“Mollie looks like you.”

“Do you really think so?”

The hopeful, vulnerable tone in his voice gave her pause. Kyle Hicks was full of surprises today.

She pointed to Mollie’s mouth. “That’s your mouth. See the fullness of her bottom lip?”

He touched his fingertips to his own bottom lip. “Yeah?”

“She has your dark coloring too,” she said.

“Supposedly we have some Italian in us,” he said.

“I bet she’ll have your eyes too. If she’s lucky.” His were an unusual blue that turned from light to dark like the fickle Pacific. Not that she’d noticed…much.

“Her mother was pretty,” he said. “Blond and tall.”

Violet didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking about how tricky it would be for him, like it was for her, when his child grew old enough to ask about her mother.

“Dakota asks about his dad sometimes,” she said as if they’d already broached the subject. He seemed to follow her line of thinking without having to ask.

“What do you tell him?” Kyle asked.

She glanced over at her son to make sure he wasn’t listening. He was intently removing the seeds from his pickle wedge and singing the words to “The Wheels On the Bus” under his breath. “I tell him not everyone has one, but that I love him enough for two parents.”

“Does he buy it?”

She grimaced. “For now. Later, I’ll have to tell him the truth.”

“What is the truth? Are you in the one-night-stand club with me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Don’t judge me. I can’t take it.” His eyelids drooped as if he were suddenly exhausted.

“I’m not. Truly.” She touched his forearm, wanting to reassure him. “I’m not in much of a position to judge, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I’ve been judged enough today for both of us.”

He gazed into her eyes for a moment before looking back at the baby. “It was when I was up north working on a project. It was a hard night for me and I drank too much at this dive bar where she worked. We talked. She had this way about her—one of those women who gets you talking about things you wouldn’t normally. Like Kara.”

“Yes, sure. I know exactly.” Kara Mullen was a witch that way. Two minutes into their first a conversation and she had cut through all the pleasantries.

“One thing led to another and I followed her home like an injured dog. She was a sweet girl. Way too young for me.” Kyle sighed. “Believe it or not, I felt bad afterward. I let my own weakness get the better of me. It’s not my thing, despite what you’ve heard, to seduce innocents. My women are usually of the savvy and sassy variety.” He paused and gazed down at the baby in his arms. “I don’t know if I can be enough for two parents. I look at you and I don’t know how you do it. Dakota’s a great kid.”

Her chest swelled with pride. “Not everyone’s a fan of my parenting.”

“That meanie at the day care? Screw her.”

“Everything I do seems to turn to sand in my hands.” Why was his kindness undoing her, making words tumble from her mouth?

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re a bad mother. It’s simply not true. As much as you and I disagree over certain things, I’ve always noticed how good you are with Dakota. Why do you think you were the first person we called?”

She flashed him a rueful smile. “I’m the only one of us who has raised an infant.”

He laughed for the first time since she’d arrived. “It’s not just that. And listen, I’m grateful you’re willing to help. I know it’s for Mollie, not me, but I’ll take it.”

“There’s no better reason for calling a truce than a baby.” A motherless baby.

He kissed Mollie’s forehead. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“It’s so sad about her mother.”

“Yeah. Now she’s stuck with me. Katy’s friend told me mortality rates for mothers in poor rural areas is on the rise. In America. There’s a cause in need of Violet Ellis.”

“Are you mocking me?”

He met her gaze. “Not one bit. I’m completely serious. We need to figure out what’s happening and do something about it. Isn’t that what you’re all about?”

“Kind of.” She looked down at her hands. “I don’t seem to have influence on much of anything, despite my efforts.”

“You don’t know if you are or not. These things aren’t measurable. Not all the way, at least. I know you prompted a few of my decisions on this place.”

“I did?”

“Have you noticed how green it is?” He pointed to the ceiling. “Solar panels on the roof? The sustainable kitchen in the restaurants. Ten percent of our profits will go to environmental groups.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked,” he said.

“Oh.”

Dakota called out from over at the table. “Can I be excused now, Mama?”

“May I be excused,” she said.

“May I be excused, Mama?”

“You may. Come on over here, I have something exciting to tell you.”

Her little boy, her heart, ran from the table on his chubby legs. Why walk when you could run?

She pulled him onto her lap. “How would you like to move in here with Kyle for a little while? Baby Mollie needs our help. I’m going to take care of Mollie while he goes to work.”

His eyes widened. “Live in a hotel?”

“Sure. It’ll be an adventure. And no, you can’t have a milkshake every day.”

“What do you say?” Kyle asked. “I need another guy around here.”

Dakota’s gaze moved from her to Kyle. “My friend Jacob has a mom and dad and sister.”

“He does?” Kyle asked.

Dakota nodded. “But I just have my mom.”

“You’re lucky to have such an awesome mom. And we’re just borrowing her for a bit,” Kyle said. “She’ll still be your mom and your mom only.”

Kyle didn’t understand. Dakota wasn’t expressing angst over sharing his mother. He wanted a family like his friend Jacob had.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. All she needed was to break her son’s heart when they had to leave.

No, she had to do this. None of it mattered if she couldn’t provide the essentials. Shelter and food for her son had to be her priority. A job and a place to live had fallen in her lap. Kyle was right. They needed each other. She would just have to hope for the best regarding her own baby. Providing a place to live and food to eat was about as good as she could do now. Later there would be therapy bills, no question. Yet another reason to escape the mountain of debt. For now, however, one grown man, a little boy, and an infant girl needed her to do what she did best—take care of them.

“We have work to do, gentlemen,” she said. “Operation Take Care of Mollie starts now. Can you both accept the mission?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Bring it,” Kyle said.

 

Shop the Cliffside Bay series

 

He's a human prince.

She's his brother's fae bride.

Until fate intervenes.

Lady Roisin knew her fate was to marry a human prince, helping to heal the rift between the humans and the fae. Luckily, she fell desperately in love with her betrothed, the dashing heir to the Vellanian throne, Prince Alrec. One day soon, she will be his queen. A day Roisin has been looking forward to for as long as she can remember.

As the king's youngest son, Prince Caiman knew his fate was to live in his older brother Alrec's shadow. One day soon, Alrec will be crowned king. A day Caiman has been dreading for as long as he can remember.

When tragedy strikes the kingdom, Caiman is forced to ascend to the throne in his brother's stead. But becoming King of Vellana means upholding the alliance with the fae by marrying his brother's betrothed. And marrying a woman who has despised him for years cannot end in happily-ever-after...

Married by Fate is part of the Arranged Marriages of the Fae series, a multi-author collaboration of short standalone novels.

This book rates a 4 on the Romantic Content Rating System (RCRS) ie. fade to black

She'll marry a prince if she must.

But fall in love?

Never.

The first time Amelie Fairfield fell in love, she started a war. Now, the part-human, part-fae fashion designer has sworn off romance to focus on her career. But when her name makes headlines in the worst possible way, there's only one thing she can do to escape scandal-marry a human prince and make everyone forget about the career-killing rumors.

To solidify peace between the humans and fae, Prince Albert must take a fae bride. As sister to the fae queen, Amelie is the perfect candidate. If only she could say the same for the rakish prince she'll have to marry. At least his devilish charm and good looks keep society fixated on him and not her.

But scandal becomes the least of Amelie's worries when she embarks upon an engagement tour. She'll need to convince the aristocracy that her arranged marriage is a true love match...without falling in love. Just when she thinks she has it all under control, the prince reveals a secret that suggests he might not be the man she thought. In fact, he might not be a prince at all...

Can Amelie juggle a world of fashion, unexpected espionage, and dating her not-so-fake fiancé? Or will her closed-off heart prove to be her biggest hurdle yet?

Married by Scandal is in the Arranged Marriages of the Fae series, a multi-author collaboration of romantic fantasy stand-alone novellas, designed to be read independently. Together, they feature arranged marriages in fae fantasy and offer complete romances while also allowing the reader to enjoy a variety of tones and approaches. Perfect for romantic fantasy readers with busy lives who love swoony romance.

Married by Scandal is set in the same world as The Fair Isle Trilogy and the Entangled with Fae series. Journey back to Faerwyvae or start your adventure here for the first time!

A glittering ballroom, a forced marriage, and one fateful kiss...

Tall, dark, and brooding, the Viscount of Barnet stole Jane Milton's heart the day she saw him astride his black horse in the woods. When she learns of his upcoming trip to Brighton, she grasps at an opportunity to be a companion to an elderly woman there, in order to follow-er-accompany Lord Barnet to the seaside town.

Mr. Philip Honeyfield has suffered the dreaded misfortune of inheriting a title. Ungainly and shy, how can he perform well in the eye of society? To navigate his new role, Philip seeks advice from an unlikely source. When he is smitten by his grandmother's new companion, Miss Jane Milton, his advisor offers one final piece of counsel: he must kiss her at the upcoming ball.

But a moonlit kiss can be catastrophic when witnessed by a cunning mother, a marriage can be inconvenient when forced, and a woman's heart can be difficult to win when it belongs to another. Can an unexpected love conquer Jane's resentment and Philip's regret? Or will that simple kiss turn out to be his greatest misfortune of all?

Don't miss this installment in Brides of Brighton, a sweet regency romance series. Each story stands alone, but are best enjoyed when read in the order below:

A Convenient Engagement

Marrying Miss Milton

Romancing Lord Ramsbury

Miss Weston's Wager

An Unexpected Bride

While the rest of the world reels from World War II, Miller Dreeser remains focused on his obsession born of ambition, and sweet Caroline Bennett, whose heart is as big as her father's fortune. Unfortunately, she's susceptible to Miller's charms and blind to his greed.

A man with a secret that could destroy anyone caught in his web. A woman whose youthful folly could destroy her family and her future. A story that spans two decades, the most defining moments of the 20th Century, and five intertwined lives from America's Greatest Generation.

This suspenseful, page-turning post-war drama is a must-read for fans of historic fiction and Tess Thompson alike.

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Author Bio:

Tess Thompson is the USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary and historical Romantic Women’s Fiction with nearly forty published titles. When asked to describe her books, she could never figure out what to say that would perfectly sum them up until she landed on Hometowns and Heartstrings.

 

Book Excerpt:

Part 1: December 1921

Chapter 1: Caroline

Caroline Bennett, nestled into the corner of the sofa in her father’s study, organized a stack of letters into alphabetical order. Degrees of handwriting skills aside, each letter was clearly addressed to Santa at the North Pole from one of the forty‐two children at Saint Theresa’s Home for Orphans. Caroline was cozy in her red flannel nightgown and thick socks, and her legs were almost long enough to reach the floor. A fire crackled behind the metal grid. Fresh fir branches decorated the mantel and filled the room with their spicy scent. Candles flickered on the side tables, casting soft shadows. Outside, December fog sheathed their home so that tonight they lived in a cloud instead of a street in San Francisco where the houses were the size of schools.

Caroline knew there was no Santa. She was twelve now, after all. Her days of childish beliefs were in the past. Her parents were Santa. It was obvious now that she knew. She’d discovered the truth when she accidently saw their housekeeper, Essie, wrapping presents in the same paper that later showed up as gifts from Santa. This new knowledge rested heavily in the middle of her chest. It had been lovely to believe in magic. However, her dismay to learn that her favorite saint was, in fact, fiction was tempered by her delight that this year, for the first time, she would be able to help deliver the gifts to the orphanage. Her stomach did flips just thinking of it. As if that weren’t enough, her mother, Sophie, had entrusted Caroline with a sacred task. She was to help find just the right gift for each child.

Her father, Edmund, hidden behind the newspaper in his large chair with nothing but his long legs visible, occasionally grunted or exclaimed over something he read. He’d missed several Christmases when he was fighting overseas. This was his second Christmas home with them, but Caroline had not forgotten how lonely those days were or the worried tears Mother had shed. Edmund Bennett, as Mother often said, could fill up a room like no other. Without him, the house had seemed empty and less like Christmas, his presents stacked up under the tree for his hoped‐for return, their deepest fear that they would remain unopened. Now, though, Father was safe at home, and Mother no longer cried by the fire while holding his latest letter in her delicate hands.

Caroline settled back into the sofa, placing the piles of letters next to her. “I’ve put them in order, Mother. Are you ready for me to read them now?” Working side‐by‐side with her beautiful mother, Caroline imagined she’d experienced a great transformation from the previous Christmas. She was taller and more sophisticated, and felt almost sorry for her deluded younger self. What a little dolt she’d been, believing that a man could fly around the world in only one night on a sled pulled by reindeer.

Other than telling her parents she knew the truth, she kept mum about this devastating fact. There was no reason her friends should have their belief in magic ruined. Believing in something as wonderful as the idea of Santa made them happy, and it was not her place to take that away from them. The longer one believed, the better.

Essie entered with a plate of sugar cookies, hot chocolate for Caroline, and glasses of sherry for her parents. “Good evening. Some sweets for the sweet?” Caroline grinned, knowing Essie meant she was sweet.

“Essie, you must stop working and retire for the evening,” said Mother. “You’ve been on your feet since dawn.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bennett, and I beg your pardon, but dawn is an exaggeration.” Essie, only twenty‐five, had come to them four years before as a housemaid but had proven so smart and capable that Mother promoted her to head housekeeper when cranky Mrs. Smith, inherited from Father’s mother, had retired. Caroline adored Essie. She was pretty with brown curls that made Caroline want to pull one to see it spring back into place. Essie was never cross, even with Caroline who sometimes forgot that she wasn’t supposed to run in the house.

The newspaper lowered. Father’s green eyes fixed upon Essie. “Mrs. Bennett exaggerating? Impossible.”

Mother laughed. “No one asked for your opinion, Mr. Bennett.”

Essie patted Caroline’s head, smiling. “Oh, the letters from the children. How wonderful.” At the door, she turned back, tears glistening in her eyes. “What you do for those poor orphans—giving them a Christmas. Could’ve been me but for the grace of God.”

“Thank you, Essie. Have a good rest,” said Mother. “We have a million cookies to make tomorrow.”

The newspaper lowered once again. “We?”

“Well, it’s my mother’s recipes, anyway.” Mother tossed a pillow at Father, which he thwarted by once again hiding behind his newspaper. The sound of Essie’s laughter accompanied her clicking heels down the hallway.

Mother held up her pen and paper. “I’m ready, darling. Read away.”

The first was from a boy named Miller, who wanted a telescope so he could study the constellations. Caroline put it back into its envelope while left‐handed Mother, the paper at a slant so she didn’t smear the ink, wrote his wish on the list. Other than Miller’s rather forthright letter, the others had deeper wishes.

Please, Santa, bring me a new family for Christmas.

Santa, bring my mother back to me.

Santa, do you know where my brother is?

After the tenth letter, she couldn’t continue. Tears slid down her cheeks and onto the paper, blurring the ink. “Mother, please. I can’t. They’re too sad.”

Mother set down her pen. The newspaper came down and Father placed it on the table next to him. “Caroline, I know the letters hurt you,” said Mother. “They do us as well. But you must never turn away from truths like these just because it’s hard. It’s your responsibility as a person with so much to understand that many others have nothing and to let it soften you to do good in the world.”

“For whom much is given, much is expected,” said Father.

Caroline wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, then ran her fingers over her embroidered initials. “But why do I have so much when others have so little?”

“We’re lucky,” said Mother. “Because of that we have to serve others as best we can.”

“Love instead of hate,” said Father. “This is what Jesus taught us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Caroline picked up the next letter. “Dear Santa.”

Chapter 2: Miller

It was Christmas Eve. While sugarplums danced in the heads of the other children, twelve‐year‐old Miller could not sleep, shivering under a thin blanket. An unexpected cold front had come the day before, encasing San Francisco in ice, and the orphanage’s fireplaces could not keep up with the frigid temperatures. Before he ventured from his bed, he listened for the sounds of the other boys sleeping. Norm snored, Wesley murmured pleas to his dead mother, and Timmy made a sound with his lips like he was trying to blow a horn. The other four boys were smaller, and in general, uttered nothing, other than falling out of the narrow beds occasionally and crying until one of the big boys shushed them. One grew tough here. Coddling and sympathy were in short supply. There was no room for softness and sadness. It was only tolerated if it was amid dreams, like poor Wesley.

Miller walked in silent steps to the window, and drew back the curtain. He stood between it and the glass, looking up at the cloudless sky where stars danced in the black night. He wanted to observe them in the silence, to soak them in without distraction because it made him feel as if anything were possible, like there was more to his paltry existence than the chilled room. He gazed for many minutes until he became a star, too. Silver and shining with heat. Last August, the stars shot across the horizon and he caught them in his hands and hung on, streaking across the sky in splendored glory.

Dust tickled his nose and he rubbed it with the back of his hand to keep from sneezing. He shivered as he placed his hand on the glass of the window. A layer of ice had formed on the inside, and it melted under his warm hand. This proved he did exist and was not invisible like he’d been that afternoon. He didn’t care that he wasn’t chosen again. No one would ever come for him. He understood that now. Days of hopeful wishes and prayers were with the stars, out of his reach.

That very afternoon a couple had come at lunch, scanning the children lined up in rows at the tables as they waited for a bowl of lukewarm soup and piece of bread. The couple, wearing tweed coats that almost matched and holding rosary beads, presumably for luck, were looking for a child to take home for Christmas. A gift to themselves, thought Miller, as if the children were toys to be handed about to rich people who had everything already. Their earnest expressions and the way they scanned the children’s faces, like a miracle was about to happen, made him sick. Oh, yes, she’s the one. Thank you, Lord, for our little miracle. A bitter taste filled his mouth, like he’d sucked on a handful of coins. He didn’t try to catch their eyes like he used to. No one wanted a boy his age. There was no point to try to look endearing any longer. He’d predicted they would choose Patsy, the toddler who’d come to the orphanage just the week before, and he’d been right. The woman’s face had lit up like a candle on the Christmas tree the moment she set eyes upon her. “Oh, Frank,” she’d said. “Do you see her curls?” It didn’t take a genius to see that coming. Sweet little Patsy with her chubby fingers and blond ringlets. He didn’t stand a chance.

He’d lived at the orphanage for almost five years, having been dropped there when he was seven years old in an unceremonious delivery by his deceased mother’s only living relative, a cousin with six children of her own and no desire for any further mouths to feed. Before his mother’s death, Miller had lived with her in a dirty, one-room shack at the end of a country road. Memories of the time with his mother came to him in a series of fuzzy images, like overexposed photographs. Uneven floorboards, rough on the bottom of his feet. One window, a crack like a spider’s web and a layer of dirt so thick that day and night were often indiscernible. A table with one chair next to a wood‐burning cooking stove. One time when he was small, he burned his wrist on the stove, reaching for a two‐day old biscuit. Greedy boys get burned. He remembered her voice and the sound of the whiskey bottled as she slammed it on the table. That’ll teach you. It did. After that he knew not to touch, no matter how hungry he was. He slept in the closet. When his mother did her business with the men, he was to stay there with the door closed and be quiet, putting his fingers in his ears to stifle the sound of creaking bedsprings and frightening moans. Sometimes, she disappeared for days and came back only to sleep for hours and hours, murmuring things he couldn’t understand. She did not hug or kiss him like he’d seen mothers do on the few occasions he went into town. Instead, he was smacked or pushed or spanked. He was never sure why.

The memory of smells, more vivid than the images, still lived in his nose. Men’s perspiration, wood smoke, whiskey, and the sour smell of his mother. One day, she didn’t get out of bed. Men came to the door, smelling of booze and cigarettes, but once they came inside, they quickly retreated. The scent of something rotting from the inside out replaced the sour odor of his mother. One day she didn’t wake. He stood over her, unsure what to do. Several flies buzzed around her body, and outside, the shriek of a wild bird pierced the quiet. Her white hand, paper thin, hung from the side of a bed. For five days he remained in the shack alone, surviving on the sack of raw potatoes that had been his companion in the closet. Then, one day, a woman came. She held a paper bag over her nose and offered him her hand. It was the first time he could remember being touched without it being accompanied by a beating.

Now, Miller took his hand from the glass, sticking it between his thighs for warmth. The stars were as close as he’d ever seen them, and a half‐moon hung just above the large oak. Not Santa in his sleigh, as some of the younger boys believed. He’d known for years Santa was not real. Just like God, it was a story to make them succumb to authority. Lies told to them by the nuns to keep them placid, well‐behaved. God and Santa are watching. He knew it was all fiction. He told the others. There is no Santa. They were all too young or too stupid to believe him. It wasn’t his problem if the little idiots chose to believe the lies. What did he care? Still, he wondered where the presents came from every year. Surely the Sisters couldn’t manage to buy all of them.

Miller didn’t believe in the birth, death, or rising of Jesus. However, he knew the nuns who cared for them not only believed the stories of the Bible, but wanted the children to believe as well. So, Miller pretended he did, to keep from being smacked with the ruler over the palm of his hand. Who could believe such nonsense? The other children were ridiculous. Who would give up a life in the world for the thankless work of caring for motherless children simply because of a made‐up story in a book?

The rumble of a car’s engine, and, a few seconds later, the beams of light that appeared between the trees, drew his attention. His stomach flipped over in excitement, despite his disbelief in magical fat men. A visitor of some kind? In the middle of the night? Yes, it was a car coming up the lane, headlights like bouncing balls in the dark. The car, black with wide fenders, stopped in front of the orphanage’s front doors, and the sound of the engine ceased, bringing back the silent night. A man in a black suit and cap slid from the driver’s seat and walked around the car to open the back door. Small feet in patent leather shoes appeared first, reflecting light from the lamppost, attached to thick legs covered in white stockings. Then, the rest of a girl emerged. She wore a fur coat and hat and was short and stout, like the teapot in the song the woman had sung to Patsy earlier. Slightly younger than Miller, if he had his guess, but it was hard for him to judge the age of children who were well fed. They always seemed older than his scrawny companions.

The girl’s hands were stuck inside a matching muff, but she shivered despite all her layers. She shifted weight from foot to foot, waiting for whoever was still in the car, her plump face tilted upward, seemingly examining the outside of the building in great detail. Miller pretended to be a statue, hoping she could not see him. A man in a top hat and dark jacket joined her, putting his hand on the top of her head. She looked up at him and smiled. They said something to each other that Miller could not decipher. The man and the chauffer went to the back of the car and pulled out two large boxes. Miller strained his eyes, trying to make out the contents. Packages with bows? Presents for the children. It was not Santa, but this man and his little girl. He was triumphant. He was right. There was no Santa, unless he traveled in a Rolls‐Royce and wore a top hat.

The two men, each carrying a box, and the little girl stepped out of sight, under the awning over the front door. Miller crept from his hiding place, tiptoeing to the door of the boys’ sleeping quarters. He turned the knob silently, and stepped into the hallway. Holding his breath, he made his way to the top of the stairs and looked down into the foyer. Their chauffeur and the boxes were out of sight, presumably being delivered into the common room and placed under the tree, but the man and little girl huddled with Sister Catherine, talking in hushed voices. Miller made out every word. “Mr. Bennett, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it with all the ice covering the roads. Sister Rosie and I have been beside ourselves with worry.”

“Thanks to Mac, we made it just fine. He’s driven in worse,” said Mr. Bennett, taking off his top hat and holding it in two hands. “We would’ve walked if we had to. I cannot disappoint Mrs. Bennett. She was also beside herself with worry.”

“Bless her,” said Sister Catherine. “And who have we here? Is this Miss Caroline?”

The little girl curtsied. “Yes, ma’am. My mother let me come this year. I had to beg her. Because of the roads, she was worried Mac would crash the car and we’d all be lost forever. Well, that and this year I learned the truth about Santa, so Mother allowed me to help shop for the gifts.” She had a clear, almost musical voice.

Sister Catherine chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear about Santa, but I’m glad you’ve come and that you didn’t crash.”

“Caroline and her mother spent many hours shopping for what they hoped would please the children,” said Mr. Bennett. “They were appreciative of the letters to Santa with their specific requests. I think we managed to find everything.”

Caroline tugged on her father’s sleeve. “No, Father, we didn’t. We couldn’t find mothers and fathers for them. They had that in their letters.” Her voice had the shaky quality that happened when girls were trying not to cry. Girls in the orphanage were crying all the livelong day, so he knew. “I’m so very sorry for them, Sister.”

“Ah, well, God has a plan for them all,” said Sister Catherine. “So don’t you fret.” She turned to look at Mr. Bennett. “Edmund, without your contributions, we would surely have shut down by now. We can’t thank you enough.” She gestured toward the door. “Now, you best be off before it gets any colder.”

They exchanged several other pleasantries, but Miller had stopped listening. I’m so very sorry for them. The fat little brat. How dare she pity them? He filled with anger, the kind that raged like the color red, burning his face as if he stood before a great fire. How easy it must be to have everything in the world, sipping cream from a silver spoon. He hated her. Gripping the spokes of the railing he imagined kicking her face, stomping on her fingers until she cried.

The chauffer had come back to the foyer. Mr. Bennett said they must go now, and Merry Christmas, and God bless, and all the other absurdities people said on this fake day. Sister Catherine followed the men out, but Caroline, falling slightly behind, looked up to where he crouched by the railing. Her eyes widened. She stared at him. He stared back, not daring to move, for fear she would betray him. Then, in a moment of genius, he put his finger to his lips to indicate she must be quiet. She nodded, put her finger to her lips, and slipped out the door. He ran back to the boys’ room on tiptoes, his toes cold and achy, and went to the window. Caroline climbed into the car first, followed by her father. Miller watched their car turn out of the driveway and head down the road until it disappeared from sight.

The next morning, like the other children, he opened his present. It was a telescope, just as he’d asked for. There were also blank notebooks for all of the children. Sister Catherine encouraged them all to keep journals or use it as a place to put their mementos. “If you write down your thoughts and feelings, your life will have clarity and purpose.” He wanted to laugh. What mementos, clarity, or purpose did any of them have exactly? He kept the question to himself. Last time he’d been cheeky, Mother Maria had smacked his knuckles with a ruler until she drew blood.

That night, he sat in bed, running his fingers over the velvet fabric that covered the outside of the journal pages and envisioned the little girl and her father. With a pen he’d found on the floor in Mother Maria’s office and had stashed under his mattress, he wrote on the first page.

December 25, 1921

This is Miller Dreeser. I am here even though no one sees me. Someday I will be visible. I will be like Edmund Bennett and wear fancy clothes and have more than enough to eat.

When he wrote it down, he knew exactly what it was he wanted. Perhaps Mrs. Bennett understood something he hadn’t.

Chapter 3: Caroline

Christmas Eve, her parents surprised Caroline when they said that, yes, she could accompany her father to drop the gifts at the orphanage. The roads, slick with ice from the unexpected freeze, made the journey slower than expected, but Caroline didn’t mind. Sitting next to Father in the backseat of their car, she was a princess dressed in her new dress and stockings, plus the delightful fur coat Mother had let her open early so that she might wear it for their festivities tonight. She wanted to wave to her imaginary subjects like she’d seen photos of real princesses do. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining that she was adored by the masses. Father wore his top hat and formal evening suit. She wriggled closer to him and lay her cheek against the rough material of his jacket. “Thank you for letting me come, Father,” she said. “I feel so grownup.”

“I’m delighted to have such a worthy traveling companion.” He kissed the top of her head. “But don’t grow up too fast.”

When they arrived, Father said she could come inside with him to meet Sister Catherine. Once she was out of the car, she stood, looking up at the building that loomed large and almost creepy in the dark. She suspected it was cold inside and shivered despite her fur coat. The stars above shone with an intensity she had not seen before, as if the heavens acknowledged the awesomeness of this night before Jesus’s birth. She was about to follow Father inside when a movement in one of the upstairs windows caught her eye.

Was it a boy, standing in the window? She couldn’t be sure, but it appeared to be an outline of a boy. She looked away. It was strange to be watched. Dread washed over her. She shivered. Don’t think of it. Pretend you didn’t see him.

They went inside. Sister Catherine greeted them and they chatted for a few minutes in the foyer, which seemed no warmer than outside. They were about to go when she happened to glance up. A boy crouched low at the top of the stairs, looking down at them. His eyes, the color of coal, stared at her, unblinking. She was about to say something to him when he put his finger to his lips. He didn’t want her to speak and let it be known he was there. Perhaps he would get in trouble for being out of bed. She nodded, to let him know she understood, and followed Father out the door.

After their late‐night delivery, Mac drove them to the Christmas Eve mass at their local parish. Mother arrived before them and had saved them seats near the front. Like Easter, every seat in the church was taken, forcing men to stand in the back of the church in clumps. Women were dressed in their finest: long, flowing dresses slack at the middle and head pieces with plumes in rich colors. The men were in dark suits, holding fedoras in their hands. The air smelled of incense and ladies’ perfume. A silence fell over the parish as the service began, but Caroline didn’t pay close attention. Instead, she prayed for the motherless children with so much silent vigor that she worried it might be apparent to others. When she looked around, though, between the kneeling and the chants and the story of Jesus’s birth, no one seemed to notice her. She was safe and warm, with more gifts waiting under the tree than most children had in a lifetime. Since the Santa letters, her world had opened. There were children without hope, without a family or a home. She could not stop thinking of them and their letters. Haunted by the phrases in the letters, a heaviness had settled onto her shoulders over the last few weeks. And tonight at the orphanage, the boy standing at the top of the stairs had hollow cheeks that matched his empty eyes, like nothing good had ever filled him, neither food nor love.

As Christmas Eve Mass ended, however, she had sudden clarity. Guilt. She was guilty. For whom much is given, much is expected. Mother and Father conducted themselves in a manner worthy of the directive to their daughter. Yet, somehow it didn’t feel like enough. She was a child of privilege. There were others who suffered, while she, Caroline, thrived. She could not understand why. Kneeling in the pew one last time, she vowed to God, “I will do my best to lessen the burden of others, however I can. Please show me the way.”

After Mass ended, she accompanied Mother and Father to their club for a late supper. Garlands hung in the windows. A massive tree near the fireplace, decorated with shiny bulbs and red bows, made the lobby smell of pine. In the dining room, a band played Christmas music. Waiters walking around with trays, gave her parents glasses of champagne, and the three of them were enveloped into a swarm of friends. She held on to her mother’s hand, afraid to be swallowed by the crowd. Ladies’ bare shoulders glistened under the lights, and their perfumes made Caroline’s eyes itch. She stifled a yawn. Her bladder was full. “I have to use the ladies’ room, Mother.”

“All right, darling. Meet us in the dining room,” said Mother, waving to a friend standing across the room.

The ladies’ lounge was quiet compared the bustle of the lobby. An attendant with skin the color of dark tea stood near the sink. Caroline said hello, politely, as Mother had taught her, before finding an open toilet. She closed the door and sat, delighted to empty her bladder. Voices of two women outside the door reached her. Caroline recognized her friend Elizabeth’s mother by her unusual voice. Mrs. Beale had a particularly low timbre for a woman. It could be mistaken for a man’s. When she mentioned this to her mother one time, she had pretended to puff an imaginary cigarette and told Caroline she must never smoke, as it made you sound hoarse and gave you wrinkles. This was one of Mother’s strange notions. No one else seemed to believe this, as most women smoked. Mrs. Beale was almost never without a cigarette dangling from one of those long holders, the ash always about to drop. “Goodness, did you see the size of Caroline Bennett?” asked Mrs. Beale.

“It’s such a shame. Terrible thing to have a beautiful mother and be so homely. And fat! My God, it’s like she ate her twin.” Caroline did not recognize this brittle voice that sounded like squeaking curds. “Do you think she was adopted?”

“I suppose it’s possible. It’s hard to believe she came from Edmund and Sophie,” said Mrs. Beale.

Caroline stood, pulling her stockings up and her dress back into place, shivering. She should have kept her coat and hat on. It was frigid in the club, like it had been in the orphanage. She walked out to the dressing tables where the two women sat, looking at themselves in the mirror. I will stand in front of them. Make them see me. Shame them for their cruelty.

Mrs. Beale’s eyes met Caroline’s and she made a circle with her mouth. She held a lipstick in her hand, but did not use it, like she’d forgotten it was there. “Caroline, what’re you doing here so late? Elizabeth’s home in bed.”

“My mother and father allow me to stay up as late as them on Christmas Eve. It’s important to my mother that I attend Mass.” Caroline’s voice shook and her cheeks were damp. Had she been crying without knowing? She pulled out her handkerchief from the little pocket of her dress and patted under her eyes.

The other woman’s eyes skirted to Mrs. Beale, then back to Caroline. She looked properly ashamed. They knew she’d heard them. Good. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Beale.”

“Merry Christmas, Caroline. Give my best to your mother.”

Caroline washed her hands at the basin. Her fingers were like sausages and her cheeks as round as apples. How had she not noticed before? Her thighs pressed against each other. She pushed into her middle, feeling several rolls there, like jelly. She was fat. The attendant handed her a towel. After she was finished drying, Caroline handed the attendant a coin. Good manners were important, Mother always said, and these poor women work for tips only.

Caroline found her parents near the entrance to the dining room. A pain stabbed her stomach, yet she was ravenous, like she hadn’t eaten in days. “Mother, will they have pudding?” Pudding and cream. Butter spread over rolls. A thick cut of roast beef. Thinking of the meal ahead made her mouth water, but with that feeling came shame. She was a fat girl, like a pig. No one should have to look at her.

“I believe they will,” said Mother. “I’m famished.” She held out her hand. “Come along, darling, let’s eat.”

The next afternoon, she and her mother stood in front of the mirror in her dressing room. They both wore their new Christmas dresses, matching dark blue taffeta. Mother, slim and tall, smiled into the mirror. “I suppose it’s a sin to love these dresses as much as I do.”

Caroline didn’t answer. She stared at herself in the mirror. Mrs. Beale was right. Caroline had been adopted. Perhaps from the orphanage when she was too young to remember? Why else would she look so different from her mother?

“Mother, did you find me at the orphanage when I was a baby?” She met her mother’s gaze in the mirror.

Mother turned away from the mirror to look directly at her. “What would make you think such a thing?”

“Because I’m fat and you’re not.” She pinched the sides of her face. “And I’m homely and you’re beautiful.”

“You’re most certainly not homely or fat.” Mother’s blue eyes, the same color as the sapphire necklace around her slim neck, filled with tears. “I don’t want to ever hear you say that again, do you understand?”

“Other people say it,” said Caroline.

“What other people?”

“Elizabeth’s mother. I was in the powder room at the club last night and she was in there with another lady and she said, ‘It’s such a shame about Sophie’s daughter. She’s such a homely thing.’ And the other lady said, ‘Yes, and fat as a little piggy. It’s hard to believe she came from Edmund and Sophie and maybe she’s adopted.’ Or, something like that, anyway.” Caroline looked at the floor, trying not to cry. “It doesn’t bother me, though, Mother, because I want only to be good and smart. I don’t care that I’m not pretty.”

Mother knelt on the floor, taking Caroline’s hands in her own. “Listen to me, my love. You’re beautiful inside and out. No one, not even awful Anna Beale, can take that from you. She was feeling particularly mean because her husband has made a bad business deal and they’ve lost their fortune. It was probably the last time they’ll ever be at the club. When people are bitter or disappointed, they’re often mean to others.”

“But why?”

“Oh, darling, I don’t know. It’s easy to be kind when your life is filled with security and love, as mine has been. Anna Beale was feeling spiteful because she’s jealous of what we have, and it made her unkind. But you, my sweet girl, despite what those women said, look exactly like me.”

“I do?” Was Mother lying to spare her feelings?

“Yes, look here now.” Mother lifted Caroline’s chin to look into the mirror. “Do you see? Same blue eyes.”

It was true. The color of sapphires, Father always said.

“And do you see our noses? Same little upturn on the end. See there?”

Yes, it was like a button on the end of their noses. On Mother it looked fashionable, like everyone should have one. Mrs. Beale was probably jealous of her mother’s nose. She had a long, pointy one, and skin the texture of tarnished leather despite layers of powder.

“And our hair is the same.” Honey blond with curls, although Mother’s was piled on top of her head in an elaborate arrangement, whereas Caroline’s hung in a bob at her chin. “So is our skin. Your father says we have skin like butterscotch candy.” Mother kissed the top of her head. “Someday you’ll grow taller, like me, and you’ll become slimmer. I was just like you when I was your age.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And do you think I’m ugly?” asked Mother.

“No. Not one bit.”

“So, there you have it.” Mother stood. “Now, come along. Your father will think we’ve run off to the circus if we don’t go down for dinner.”

She took Caroline’s hand as they entered the dining room. “I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?”

“Julius and his father are going to spend Christmas with us. They’ve come up from the beach.”

Julius and his father, Doctor Nelson, lived at the beach all year around, not just during the summer like the Bennetts. Occasionally, they came up to the city to stay with her family. Like tonight! Her heart leaped with joy when she saw them, all thoughts of Mrs. Beale slipping from her mind. Julius and Doctor Nelson sat at the table with Father, both dressed in suits. How nice Julius looked. He waved and grinned at her from across the room. Julius. Everything was always better when he was there. She glided across the room, newly light. He looked older than when she’d seen him at Thanksgiving with his light blond hair, bleached from the sun, slicked back and smoothed with pomade. Both men and Julius stood as they approached the table. Mother put both hands out to Doctor Nelson. “So lovely to see you.”

Doctor Nelson kissed her hand. “Thank you for having us.”

“You’re looking quite well,” said Mother. It was true. Doctor Nelson looked rested and healthy, less thin than the last time they’d seen him.

After they all sat, she squeezed Julius’s hand under the table. “I’m happy to see you.”

He grinned. “Me too. We’re staying the night and everything. I brought you a present.”

“I have one for you, too.” Mother had found an archery set for him. Ever since they read Robin Hood, they’d both become obsessed with archery. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened it. They had played Robin Hood and Maid Marian many times on the beach, with driftwood as the bow and arrow. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me either. Father surprised me this morning.”

“Has it been lonesome? Christmas without Father was awful.”

Julius looked down, as if studying his plate with great intent. “Yeah. For my dad mostly.”

Julius’s mother had left them last summer. Caroline learned of it listening at the door of Father’s study. Mother’s voice, sounding strangely shrill, had spoken the unthinkable. “She disappeared into the night. With a man.” Julius’s mother had left her child and her husband? How was this possible?

She and Mother had gone over to see them that afternoon with dinner. Essie had arranged the meal in a basket with a colorful tea towel. Would the beautiful display make someone feel better when their wife or mother had left them? Caroline doubted it.

Doctor Nelson had answered the door, looking just the same as he always did, dressed in a light suit and tie, his hair groomed so that the little ridges from his comb showed. Julius looked different, though. He hadn’t combed his hair, and his face looked pale and pinched under his tan. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d been crying. One other time he’d cried, but that was when he broke his arm. Other than that, he was tough. But this? This was too much.

Julius took her into the kitchen while their parents talked. He pointed to the note, still on the table. “There it is.” His eyes, flat and dull, would not meet her own.

I’m sorry, but I’m slowly dying here in this place. I was not made to be a small‐town doctor’s wife.

Why had they left the note on the table? Caroline would have burned it in the fireplace, along with any photographs of the woman’s selfish face.

“Remember how I always tried to get her to laugh,” he asked. “She never thought I was funny.”

“You are funny.”

“Not funny enough.” He picked up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. “She’s not coming back. My father thinks so. He hasn’t said it, but I can see by the way he’s acting like everything is normal. But I know she’s not. I saw her leave last night. She assumed I was asleep, but I was awake, reading Robin Hood again, and I heard a car pull into the driveway. I went to the window and I saw a car and this man get out. It was him. She ran to him. She couldn’t get away fast enough.”

How dare she leave Julius. Caroline’s stomach burned. She wanted to smack something or throw an object at the wall. No, she wanted to throw an object at Mrs. Nelson. That was it. She wanted to hurt her like she’d hurt Julius. Mrs. Nelson was cruel and selfish. She tried to imagine her own mother leaving, but it was unfathomable. She would never do it. Mrs. Nelson would be sorry. It was one thing to leave a husband, but how did a mother leave a little boy, especially one like Julius? Caroline understood for the first time the phrase “May she burn in Hell.” The last time Caroline had seen Mrs. Nelson was just last week. It was the middle of the afternoon and she was bent over the sink, inspecting something. She had not looked up when the children came into the room, nor had she responded when Julius said they were going into town and could he get anything for her.

He cried, later, sitting on the beach, and she had wrapped her arm around his waist and let his head rest on her shoulder, his tears mixing with the seawater on her shoulder.

“Let’s throw the letter into the sea,” she said. “We won’t ever think of her again.”

“All right.” They stood together. She took his hand as they walked to the place where the waves crashed onto the shore. Julius retrieved the letter from his pocket and crumpled it into a ball. He threw it hard toward the water. There was no breeze to deter its course as it sailed through the air and fell into a breaking wave. They did not see the paper that broke Julius’s heart again, but they both knew because of the time they had spent in the very same surf that it was pulled under the surface now, tossing this way and that until it would be carried out to sea, ultimately disintegrating into fish food. And yet, it was not enough to wipe away her memory. Caroline saw her in the shadows under Julius’s eyes.

Since that day, Mother had made sure to include him in everything at the house. Doctor Nelson was often away at night doing house calls or delivering babies, so Julius would stay in their guestroom. “You’re family now,” Mother said to Julius one night. “Family isn’t always blood. Sometimes, when you’re lucky, you get to choose who you want for your family.”

Now, the waiter, dressed in a black tuxedo, put a small plate in front of her. A sliver of toast with a dollop of caviar and sour cream on top. “Are you going to eat that?” Julius whispered in her ear.

Caroline giggled. “Mother says it’s a delicacy.”

“How’s Essie?” asked Doctor Nelson.

His question yanked Caroline from her conversation with Julius. Why was he asking about Essie? She darted a look to her mother, who held her small appetizer fork in midair. Caroline squeezed Julius’s hand under the table and pretended to be absorbed in her food. If the adults realized they were listening, they might stop talking.

“She’s fine,” said Mother.

“Why do you ask, old man?” Her father’s voice held a hint of teasing.

“It’s time for me to move on, I suppose,” said Doctor Nelson.

“I see no reason not to,” said Father. “Everything’s been taken care of legally.”

“You’ve been a good friend, Edmund. I thank you for your help.”

“Every man needs a good attorney at least once in his lifetime,” said Father.

“If only it were only once,” said Mother.

“I understand Essie will be at the house on Christmas day,” said Doctor Nelson.

“She’s a live‐in, so yes,” said Mother. “But you knew that.” Her mother’s voice was teasing as well. “I don’t suppose you’re intending to steal my housekeeper?”

“Something like that,” said Doctor Nelson.

Caroline looked over at Julius. His eyes twinkled back at her.

“Essie?” she whispered. “And your father?”

“He hasn’t said a word to me.” He continued to whisper.

“We’ve been corresponding since Thanksgiving,” said Doctor Nelson to Mother. “She’s terribly worried you’ll mind.”

“Doctor Nelson, I’m quite aware of your correspondence. She may be clever, but she’s not able to hide everything from me,” said Mother.

“Do I have your permission?” asked Doctor Nelson.

Caroline looked up at her mother. She smiled, looking extremely satisfied with herself. “As much as I hate to lose her, she does not belong to me.” She stabbed a piece of toast with her fork. “However, she’s like family to us, so you’re forbidden to hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” said Doctor Nelson.

“Let’s have a toast,” said Father, picking up his champagne glass. “To new beginnings.”

Caroline and Julius toasted one another with their glasses of milk. “Merry Christmas, Julius.” She smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas, Caroline.”

 

Chapter 4: Miller

In the days following Christmas, Miller thought of the Bennetts often, and not just when he used his telescope. Despite the pleasure the gadget gave him, it made him hate them more. It was nothing to them, this gift. Yet, to him it was the difference between wanting to live or not, from having something to look forward to or nothing but flat, dry hunger day after day. For this he hated them. To the Bennetts, it was not a dent in their wealth or their existence. They had anything and everything they wanted. This kindness was just a way for them to feel less guilty about it. People didn’t do something for others unless they were getting something for themselves at the same time. He knew this after living in the orphanage for so long. The kids lived by this rule: I’ll give you this, if you give me that.

He made it his mission to learn everything he could about Edmund Bennett. He asked Sister Catherine if he might read her discarded newspaper each day, hoping to find mentions of the Bennetts in the paper. She was delighted, for he had shown little interest in anything academic, and Sister Catherine was a kind soul who loved the children, even when they were too old to be endearing. He understood this, especially in the stark contrast to some of the others, who smacked the children’s hands with rulers for the smallest offense. Sister Catherine was the first to teach him that kindness was a weakness one could easily exploit.

The first article he saw in the paper was about Edmund Bennett opening a center for veterans of the Great War where they could visit with one another, play games, and have refreshments. Miller cut it out and pasted it in his journal. In the weeks and months to come, he continued to cut and paste several more articles. It seemed the family was always doing some good deed. He cut around the edges of the photograph carefully to make sure he captured the entire article and photograph.

That March, he saw the Bennetts again. The Sisters had taken the children out for the day, a rare treat, to have a picnic at a park, even though the weather was chilly. Miller had found a long stick and declared it a gun. Timmy found another stick, shorter and less satisfying, and they played cowboys and Indians, running and shouting, until they came upon a vendor selling peanuts and popcorn to a well‐dressed family of three. Miller stopped, his stick midair, surprised. It was the Bennett family. They stood before the cart, steam rising above their heads. Caroline was dressed in a brown coat and hat, as the sky was dark and moody, threatening a downpour. Miller shivered in his jacket with the holes in the elbows, the cold catching up to him now that he stood motionless. An insect of some kind had caught Timmy’s attention, leaving Miller alone to watch them.

The Bennetts—Edmund, Sophie, and little Caroline—out for a stroll in the park. He saw it like a headline in the newspaper, like so many he’d seen in the society section of the newspaper in recent months.

Mrs. Bennett was slender, only reaching Mr. Bennett’s shoulder in height. He could not see her face because she wore an enormous hat. Caroline pointed to a bag of peanuts right in the middle of the cart. “I want that one, please, Daddy.”

Edmund, a large man, might have been intimidating, but he was not. At least, not at this moment when he was looking down into the eyes of his ten‐year‐old daughter. “If that’s the one you want, you shall have it.” He turned to his wife. “And you, my dear? What will you have?”

His wife murmured something that made him laugh. He paid for the purchase and offered each of them his arm, and the three walked away together. They did not notice him. He was invisible.

I want that. I want what he has. I want to be him. That night he wrote in his journal. 

March 28, 1922

I saw them in the park. Caroline wanted peanuts, so she got them. I want peanuts and all the rest of it, too. So, I will marry Caroline someday. I will become like Edmund Bennett. No one can stop me.

 

Shop all Tess Thompson books

A forgotten past, an impossible wager, and a second chance.

Despite her every effort, Harriett Weston cannot forget the boy she once loved-or the day she banished him from her life forever. Trapped in a wager with her matchmaking sister, she can no longer avoid William forever. She is required to endure three meetings with him, the beginnings of a courtship that could easily undo the determination of her carefully guarded heart.

Matters are further complicated when an opportunity arises for Harriett to go to London for the upcoming season, and William's return to Brighton leaves him injured and unable to remember his past. When Harriett is credited for saving his life, William is drawn to her, believing that she can help him unravel the mysteries of his lost memory. Even his lost memories of her.

When a wicked force tries to keep them apart, can Harriett and William overcome regret, find courage, and claim a second chance at love?

Don't miss this installment in Brides of Brighton, a sweet regency romance series. Each story stands alone, but are best enjoyed when read in the order below:

A Convenient Engagement

Marrying Miss Milton

Romancing Lord Ramsbury

Miss Weston's Wager

An Unexpected Bride

“…I have read this whole series, and each book gets better. Missed was my favorite one yet. Overall, I can sum this book up in one word... AMAZING!” —Boundless Book Reviews

Return to the beloved beach town of Cliffside Bay, where USA Today bestseller Tess Thompson spins another emotional, intriguing tale about overcoming adversity and finding strength in love in this standalone story about Lisa and Rafael.

After years of struggling as a starving actor, Lisa Perry's dreams are finally coming true. Splitting her time between Los Angeles and Cliffside Bay, the young beauty has a successful television miniseries, her first movie role, and quality time with her best friends Maggie and Pepper. Everything is coming up roses until a single tragic moment changes Lisa forever.

Haunted by unshakable memories and near-crippling anxiety, Lisa must face a publicity tour full of crowds and interviews in order to move her budding career forward. And with the help of Rafael Soto, the head of security for Brody and Kara Mullen, she finally begins to relax. Though the pair are as different as night and day, something about her temporary bodyguard soothes the young actress, and soon their relationship turns from professional to passionate.

But what neither anticipates is that despite the obvious threats to a beautiful ingenue, it's actually her protector who stands in harm's way. Will Lisa and Rafael be able to face the danger awaiting him together, or are they destined to accept yet another tragedy they can't stop?

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Author Bio:
Tess Thompson is the USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary and historical Romantic Women’s Fiction with nearly 40 published titles. When asked to describe her books, she could never figure out what to say that would perfectly sum them up until she landed on, Hometowns and Heartstrings.

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1: Rafael

Rafael Soto had too many demanding women in his life. None of whom greeted him with a kiss after a long shift or wrapped their arms around him after one of his nightmares. The women in his life were married to rich dudes with enormous houses and fast cars. Like the America he’d served for three tours overseas, they needed him for protection, but not for love. All the hassle and none of the pleasure.

These were his thoughts as he opened the door of his old truck after a long day’s work and saw the blonde hurricane in high-heeled sandals bolt out of the Mullens’ front door. Honor Sullivan strode across the driveway toward him. He braced himself, as one should when face-to-face with a human tropical storm.

Flushed and out of breath, she stopped a few feet from him. Her giant diamond wedding ring flashed in the late-afternoon sunlight and nearly blinded him. “Hey, Rafael, you have a quick second?” She gripped a pencil. White knuckles.

He steadied himself with one hand wrapped around the door’s frame and looked into the brown eye of a hurricane. Technically, two eyes of the same hurricane. His free hand twitched at his side. Darned if hadn’t almost lifted it in a salute to his superior. Old habits died hard.

“Afternoon, Ms. Sullivan. What can I do for you?” Although they both worked for Kara and Brody Mullen, Rafael knew his place. He ran security. Honor Sullivan ran the career of former AFL quarterback Brody Mullen. Big difference.

“I won’t beat around the bush,” she said.

“I’d hope not, ma’am.” It occurred to him that Honor’s husband, Zane Shaw, was either the luckiest guy in town or the unluckiest, depending on what side of the storm he found himself.

“Kara told me the construction on the building is complete,” Honor said.

The building. Those two little words had possessed his every thought for months. His building. Six sweet apartments in a Victorian mansion that had drained every dime of his savings. The “renovation” that had chained him to the suits at the bank.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m headed there now to meet Stone and Trey,” Rafael said. “They finished the last details today.”

“Great. Here’s the thing.” Honor swept her long blond hair behind one shoulder. “Lavonne’s been living with us during the remodel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lavonne, former neighbor, was now one of his tenants.

“He’s not, you know, like other people.” Honor pushed the eraser end of the pencil with her thumb three times, like she was sending a message in Morse code. “And he really needs that apartment.”

“I understand,” he said.

Her eyes glittered, scrutinizing him. “Do you? Because he doesn’t have anywhere to go, and he can’t afford a big increase in rent.” The woman had missed her calling. He could’ve used her for interrogation purposes during one of his missions in Iraq.

“He won’t have one. Lavonne knows that.”

“He told me you asked him to move to the middle floor because you changed the first floor into two larger apartments instead of three.”

“That’s correct,” he said.

“He can’t afford a two-bedroom. The studio was all he could manage. I don’t appreciate you screwing him over.” She moved closer to him. “That’s not how we do things in Cliffside Bay.”

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. No taller than five feet and a few inches, she was like a jelly bean snake can. The minute you twisted off the lid, a plastic snake jumped out and hit you in the eye.

“Ms. Sullivan, I’m not sure where you got your information. I told Lavonne he could have the two-bedroom on the second floor for the same rent he paid for the studio.”

“He told me that’s what you said, but I couldn’t believe it. Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m not in the business of kicking tenants out on the street. Especially Lavonne, whom I consider a friend. That’s not how I do things, regardless of where I live.”

“How will you pay for all the renovations if you don’t raise the rent?” She pointed the pencil at him. For a moment he was back in Sister Rosemary’s seventh-grade English class. “That’s not smart business.”

“I’m not a smart guy.”

She flushed a deeper pink and lifted her chin slightly. “I didn’t say that.”

“No offense taken. I’m not a business guy,” Rafael said. “I didn’t buy the building to make money or even as an investment. I bought the building so my mother and her friend Ria and Lavonne and I could have a safe and beautiful place to live.”

“I don’t understand. Buying an apartment building without the intention of making money is ridiculous.” She stuck the pencil behind one ear.

“Maybe to you. But I’m a soldier. I protect my own. Lavonne’s my friend. I didn’t want him living in that damp, awful studio one minute longer. I aim to get my mother out of a neighborhood infested with gang activity. I’m knee-deep in debt because of it. But what’re you going to do? That’s as good as a guy like me can expect.”

She played with the diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist. “I didn’t believe Lavonne. He told me you guys were friends and that you would never let him down. I thought he was confused. I couldn’t imagine you saying that.”

He winced. What did that mean? “Why?”

“Because of the way you look. Okay, that sounds terrible, but you’re all Navy SEAL-ish and cop-like—you have eyes like scanning devices. And I’ve never seen your teeth.”

“My teeth?”

“You never smile.”

“I smile.” More now that he had veneers. Thanks to his job with the Mullens he’d been able to afford them. For years he’d perfected a tight-lipped smile to hide his gray teeth, damaged from the acne medicine he’d taken as a teenager.

“No, you don’t. You’re this dead-serious, stealthy guy in the background, like a black panther. I couldn’t imagine you having the patience for Lavonne.”

“Patience? Why would I need patience?”

“He’s like a child. Simple. You two couldn’t be more different. You’re a hero and stuff. Lavonne’s my nanny, although sometimes I think Jubie takes care of him and not the other way around.”

“We may seem different, but I’m an outsider. Like him.”

“He doesn’t always understand things, so I thought maybe he was confused.” She continued to look at him as though he was a criminal. Talk about eyes that scanned everything. Took one to know one.

“I understand why you would be concerned,” Rafael said. Lavonne did think slower than some. Sure, he wasn’t going to win any academic contests anytime soon. Exploitative assholes would take advantage of him if they could. However, Lavonne was more emotionally intelligent than most men, Rafael included. “Lavonne gets things on a different level than some guys. He’s all intuition. He knows when someone’s his friend. He says you taught him that.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. He told me about the time you were both living with the same foster family and how you looked after him. He told me what you did for Jubie. Taking her in, I mean.” Honor and Zane had adopted Jubie when she was six years old.

“She’s our daughter as much as our baby boy,” Honor said. “From the beginning, we knew she belonged with us.” “She’s an awesome kid. Before we had to move out for the renovations, Jubie and Lavonne came up to hang out quite often.”

Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. “You’ve spent time with Lavonne and Jubie? Like real friends? Just like he said?”

“Jubie likes to look at my military medals.”

“That sounds like her,” Honor said.

“You don’t have to worry about Lavonne as long as he’s living in my building.” Rafael shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “We’re friends.”

“Friends?”

Still with the suspicion.

“Yeah. Friends. We watch sports or hang out. We’re both new to town. It’s hard to meet people here. Everyone already has friends and doesn’t seem interested in more.”

“Are you talking about my husband and his friends?” Honor asked. “Are they unfriendly?”

“I’m the hired help, Ms. Sullivan. I don’t expect an invite to one of their poker games.”

“The Mullens don’t think of you as hired help.” Honor tilted her head to the side. “As far as the poker games go, he and the Dogs go way back. You know how men are.”

“Men can only handle so many friends,” he said.

“Something like that.”

“Anyway, you can rest easy about Lavonne. I’ve got his back.”

“You don’t give him beer, do you? He shouldn’t drink. It would be like giving alcohol to a child.” She played with the necklace around her neck.

“I’m not his babysitter. I’m his friend. That said, he’s never asked for a beer. I keep the fridge stocked with root beer just for him.”

She sighed and took a step back, her brown eyes calm after the storm. “Fine, then. I was wrong. I thought he was confused. I’m sorry if I insulted you. Sometimes I’m bossy and bullheaded. My husband’s quick to point it out.”

“It’s no problem. I understand looking out for the people you love.”

“I’m glad you’re Lavonne’s friend. I didn’t realize…the kind of guy you are.” She gazed up at the clear sky for a moment before looking back at him. “Your mother’s moving here?”

“That’s the plan. If I can talk her into it. She’s stubborn and independent, so it’ll be a fight.”

“Sounds like me.”

He nodded as he got into his truck. “Not a thing wrong with either one of you. Have a nice night, Ms. Sullivan.”

“It’s Mrs. Shaw now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you took his name.” She didn’t seem the type. Maybe he had her pegged wrong, too.

“I’m still getting used to it myself.” Honor took the pencil from behind her ear and grinned. “Mrs. Shaw, wife and mother.”

“Good night, Mrs. Shaw.”

“Good night.” She turned in her high-heeled sandals and strode across the driveway and into the Mullens’ house.

“Hurricane,” he said under his breath as he turned on the engine. If I’d wanted to mess with Lavonne, I certainly wouldn’t now.

Not that he would have. He didn’t have much to claim as his own, but he had his integrity and his loyalty. Without those qualities, what kind of man would he be? Not the one his mama raised.

He was about to take off when Kara came running across the driveway.

Rafael rolled down the window. “Everything all right?”

Dressed in shorts, tank, and tennis shoes, she squinted into the light. “Yes, yes, everything’s fine. Brody’s plane’s been delayed. I didn’t want Michael to worry when he didn’t show up later.” In stark contrast to Honor, Kara Mullen was tall with an Italian complexion. As nurturing and even-tempered as anyone he’d ever known, it was not much of a stretch to imagine why she’d become a nurse.

“I’ll let him know on my way out,” he said.

“Thanks. Are you headed to the apartments?”

“Yes. The guys are waiting for me. We’re celebrating.”

“I can remember like it was yesterday the first night I stayed in that place,” Kara said with a shiver. “It was so cold and damp. I’d never felt more alone in my life. Now no one will ever have to suffer through another cold night in that place.”

“Stone and Trey have done a phenomenal job.” Between Stone’s contractor work and Trey’s interior design, the place had transformed from depressing to airy, beachy rooms filled with light.

“I’m so happy for you,” Kara said.

“I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay at Flora and Dax’s place these last few months.” Flora, the Mullens’ longtime housekeeper and her husband, Dax, lived in Oregon for part of the year, leaving their home empty. He’d been thrilled to stay there during the renovations.

“They were happy to do it for you. You’ve done so much for our family.”

He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Just doing my job.”

“You know it’s more than that to us,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“When I was over at Kyle and Violet’s the other day, Stone mentioned the renovations cost a lot more than you thought they would.”

He scratched his neck. “Yeah, I’m now beholden to the suits for the rest of my life.”

“I know you wanted a place for your mother.”

“Yes, ma’am. Worth every penny,” he said.

She flushed and shuffled her feet, then looked down at her hands. “Discussing money is so awkward. We want to give you a bonus. You’ve been beyond good to me. Trust me, having good security is life-and-death to me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This should help with the renovations. It’s a small token of our appreciation.”

He stared at the envelope. “This isn’t necessary.”

“It is to me. Open it later.” She patted the window frame and backed up a few feet. “You go have fun. Say hi to the guys for me.”

He watched her sprint across the driveway and disappear into her house. Unsure how to react, he tossed the envelope onto the seat. He’d look later and decide whether it was a bonus or  charity.

He drove out of the driveway, the Mullens’ palatial house in his rearview mirror.

***

Minutes later, Rafael arrived at his albatross. Located on the main street of town, the run-down Victorian mansion had long ago been turned into apartments. Now it finally fit in with the rest of the quaint, scenic town. With Stone’s help, he’d chosen a soft shade of gray for the exterior, and white for the trim and wraparound porch. He loved that stupid porch more than he should. There was just something about a porch that screamed family and friends. He’d already imagined his mother, Ria, Stone, Trey, and Lavonne gathered on a warm summer day for a barbecue. Against his better judgment, he’d sprung for a nice grill that was now tucked into the corner of the porch waiting for a few steaks.

Rafael Soto from Oakland owned a Victorian. Go figure. Life was nothing if not full of surprises.

The property was big enough for a small parking lot behind the house. Rafael took the spot between Stone’s truck and Trey’s vintage sports car. The vehicles were like the men themselves. Stone was a massive workhorse of a man, whereas Trey was compact and fast, both in mind and body.

He found them inside one of the first-floor apartments, leaning against the kitchen counter with beers in their hands.

“Hey, man,” Stone said as he reached into a small cooler and pulled out one of the IPAs from Zane Shaw’s local brewery. “We’re celebrating.” He tossed the bottle to Rafael, who caught it with one hand.

“It’s official. Operation Save Mama is complete.” Trey’s aqua-blue eyes seemed to dance as his mouth lifted in a slight smile.

“It’s surreal, I’ve got to admit.” Rafael screwed the top off his beer, then took a long swig. “God, I love the smell in here.” The scent of mildew had been replaced by the aroma of fresh paint and stained wood.

Rafael stomped his feet. Solid. Floors no longer creaked. Stairs were now sturdy.

“What do you think? Will this do for your mama?” Stone’s chiseled, almost hard features could scare anyone with a pointed look in their direction. Until he opened his mouth and it became obvious that he was a giant man with a giant heart.

“Do you think she’ll love it as much as we do?” Trey asked.

“Dude, you guys killed it. She’s going to love every inch,” Rafael said. They’d gone high-end with the cabinets and countertops in all the apartments. To give it a beachy feel, Trey had chosen white cabinets and light granite countertops, but dark floors. Light green paint on the walls looked anywhere between beige and white, depending on the time of day.

Two years ago, when he moved to Cliffside Bay for the job with the Mullens, Rafael figured his chances of finding anything to buy unlikely. Real estate in the sleepy seaside community rarely came on the market. The few available properties were way out of his price range. He’d given up his dream of owning his own home and moved into the damp and cold apartment on the top floor of the old Victorian.

When Old Man Cooper, as he was known in the community, had announced he’d like to sell the building, Rafael had gone to him with an offer. To his surprise, Cooper had a soft spot for veterans. With twenty percent down, he’d taken a loan for the rest, and the building was his. After inspection.

During inspection, they found as many problems as the Victorian was years old—rotting floorboards, plumbing problems, and electrical issues. The building was deemed unsafe for tenants without a major rebuild. Everything would have to be gutted and replaced. Knowing that additional financial debt was inevitable, and he’d have to live frugally, he’d gone forward with the deal. The debt didn’t matter. Now he had a place for Mama and Ria. Finally, he would get them out of the old neighborhood.

Stone took his baseball cap off and ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, then put it back on again. “We want the other third-floor apartment.”

“You two?” Rafael asked. “Sure.” The apartments on the second and third floors were two bedrooms. One of the second-story places was slotted for Lavonne. Rafael had the top-floor apartment with the ocean view, but the other one was still available. “That just leaves one empty on the second floor.”

“We decided we could afford it if we rented it together,” Trey said.

“I can’t live in that RV for another winter,” Stone said.

“And neither of us can afford a house right now,” Trey said.

“Plus, we need a place to entertain the ladies,” Stone said.

“What ladies?” Trey laughed. “It’s not like college. That was like shooting fish in a barrel.” He took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with a cloth from his pocket. Although often in slacks and a jacket when he met with his fancy clients, Trey was dressed casually today in trendy jeans, a perfectly cut button-down shirt the same color as his eyes, and tan loafers Rafael wouldn’t be caught wearing, dead or alive.

“Rafael and I didn’t go to college. We were too busy defending our country,” Stone said as he tossed a bottle cap at him.

“Sorry,” Trey mumbled.

“I’m just messing with you,” Stone said. “My ego is plenty big enough without having gone to college.”

“Huge,” Rafael said.

“But let’s face it. We’re on some serious loser streaks when it comes to women,” Stone said.

“It’s because we’re broke,” Trey said.

“True,” Rafael said.

“Girls like dudes with money,” Stone said. “If you’re ugly, then you better be rich.”

“Which means you’re screwed,” Trey said.

Stone put everything he made back into his business and lived in an RV on his brother Kyle’s property. Despite his sophisticated, arty vibe, which women seemed to love, Trey didn’t stand a chance. An interior designer who had lost most of his money to his ex-wife and lived in the basement of an old lady’s house wasn’t exactly marriage material.

And what about him? He had a scar from a bullet in his shoulder and a scar on his soul from the moment in Iraq that he could never take back. No amount of wishing could make either of them disappear.

“I forgot to tell you. Lisa Perry asked about you the other day,” Stone said to Rafael.

“What? When?” Rafael asked.

“I was over at Maggie’s, installing a new shelf in the baby’s room, and Lisa happened by,” Stone said. “She was like, ‘Hey, how’s Rafael? I haven’t seen him around all summer.’” His voice went up in a terrible attempt at imitating beautiful, sweet Lisa Perry.

“You’re lying to me,” Rafael said.

“Swear on my life,” Stone said.

“Lisa’s the blonde one, right?” Trey asked as he put his glasses back on.

“The blonde one?” Rafael asked. “That’s how you describe her? She’s like an angel inhabiting the earth. Seriously, she’s the most beautiful woman ever born, not to mention sweet and kind.” He’d been walking past the church in town when she’d come out with Maggie and Jackson. At the sight of her, he’d stumbled on the sidewalk like a total dork. “Have you seen that show she’s in? Indigo Road?”

“Yeah, Violet made me watch it with her,” Stone said. “I did not cry at that one part, no matter who tells you differently.”

“How come you haven’t asked her out?” Trey asked. “I mean, given that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and everything?”

“Lisa Perry doesn’t go for a guy like me,” Rafael said. “She belongs with a guy like Mullen.”

Stone tipped his hat. “True enough. Or rich guys like my brother and the rest of his friends.”

“What do they call themselves again?” Trey asked.

“The Dogs.” Stone rolled his eyes. “My brother thought of it. Which is embarrassing.”

“The Dogs. Rich, good-looking, successful. Gorgeous, smart wives,” Trey said with a mournful sigh. “Those guys have it made. We’re more like the mangy wolves of Cliffside Bay.”

Rafael laughed. “The Mangy Wolves. Perfect.”

“Wolves can be sexy,” Stone said. “We’re bad boys, right?”

“Rafael yes,” Trey said. “You? Not unless teddy bears are bad.”

“I’ll have you know I used to beat the crap out of anyone who even nodded sideways at my brother or Autumn,” Stone said. “And I was a marine, if you haven’t forgotten.”

“Other than your thick neck, it’s hard to imagine.” Trey gave him a good-natured shove.

“God’s honest truth, though,” Stone said. “I wish I could get somewhere with that sassy Pepper, but she hates my guts. I have no idea what I did.”

“You probably put your big foot in your mouth,” Trey said.

“In an attempt to be funny,” Rafael added.

“You two are going to make me cry.” Stone stuck his lip out and pretended to wipe his eyes.

“We may be total losers when it comes to women, and we’re dead broke—and you two are ugly—but we did good when it comes to this building.” Rafael turned to look around the apartment once more, admiring the gleaming chrome appliances. “Joking aside, I can’t thank you enough for making this place world-class.”

Stone grinned and hopped down from the counter. “Come on, we’ve got a surprise for you up in your apartment.”

“I don’t like surprises.” Rafael grimaced. Knowing Trey, he’d taken it upon himself to install some antique bathtub he’d had shipped from Italy.

“You’ll like this one,” Stone said as he grabbed the cooler of beer.

“I wish I had a little money left over to decorate,” Rafael said as he followed the guys out of the apartment. “My old crappy furniture is going to look even older and crappier now.”

“Yeah, but this is yours, man,” Stone said.

“No one can take that away from you,” Trey said. “Unless you get married and your wife takes everything you own.”

“Dude, we’ve got to get you laid,” Stone said. “Your bitterness is starting to stink up the place.”

They walked up the wide stairway that led to the third floor. When they arrived at Rafael’s new apartment, Trey opened the door and stood aside. “Go on in.”

Rafael gasped and froze in the entryway. “What the hell?” The main room was fully decorated. “It’s incredible.” Black and gray furniture with splashes of cobalt blue in pillows and lamps gave it a masculine feel but not overly so. “But how? I mean, all this stuff must have cost so much money. I don’t get it.”

“Kara Mullen,” Trey said. “She called me last month and said she wanted to pay for the entire apartment to be decorated.”

“But how did you know what I liked?” Rafael asked.

“I had to take some guesses from the photos you’d pinned on your Pinterest board,” Trey said.

Rafael went hot. “You know I have a Pinterest board?”

“It took a little digging, but I found it, Latinlover83,” Trey said with a laugh.

“Latinlover83? No way.” Stone doubled over with laughter.

“Okay now, calm down,” Rafael said. “I was collecting photos for when I could afford to decorate.”

“How’d I do?” Trey asked. “It was rough doing it without input.”

“You did great, man. Seriously.” The dark gray accent wall and white trim had been in one of the photos on his board. Abstract prints in soothing blues and greens that reminded Rafael of the landscape of Cliffside Bay hung on the walls. His medals were now in a glass display case on a bookshelf behind the couch.

Rafael walked over to the black stone gas fireplace. A framed photograph of his mama and him as well as an arrangement of seashells decorated the mantel.

“Your mom sent the photo,” Trey said. “She said you might like it for your mantel, so I got it framed.”

Rafael ran his finger over the bumpy pattern etched in the wooden frame. Mama smiled back at him, her narrow shoulders thrown back like she was the queen of everything. She was the queen. To him, anyway. He set the photo back on the mantel and turned to his friends.

“Check out the view,” Stone said.

“That’s the only part I expected,” Rafael said.

Trey pointed to the off-white waffle shades that hung from the windows. “I chose something simple. When these are down, you’ll still get some light, but they’ll keep out the harsh afternoon sun.”

In a daze, Rafael ambled over to the bay windows that faced out to the sea. They’d had to comply with height restrictions, but the view from this floor skirted above town and looked out to the long stretch of public beach at the end of Main Street. Today, umbrellas in every color populated the beach from one end to the other. Kids played in the sand; surfers rode waves; a long line of tourists waited in front of a food truck parked in the dirt lot above the beach. He sighed with pleasure.

“Come see the kitchen,” Trey said.

He followed his friend. The cabinets and granite were the same as the other apartments, but Trey had added a teal sea-glass backsplash. Vases and bowls in the same soft color adorned a shelf in the corner. “I’m going to have to learn to cook.”

He placed both hands on the distressed wood of the dark-chocolate-colored rectangular table. Like an upscale picnic table, long benches took the place of chairs. Three large pendant lights in the same sea-glass shade hung over the table.

“In case you ever have people over for dinner,” Trey said. “Kara’s idea.”

“We can have dinner parties like grown-ups,” Stone said.

“The three of us sitting around this table is just sad,” Rafael said with a laugh.

They went to the bedroom next. Trey had chosen soothing blues and distressed mahogany furniture. There was a partial view of the ocean from the west-facing wall. The other window looked out to the houses that crawled up the hillside. Directly below, tourists dressed in shorts and tanks strolled by with ice cream cones in their hands.

“This is really mine?” Rafael asked as he turned to look at his friends.

“It’s yours, man.” Stone raised one of his monster arms, biceps bulging, and tipped his beer bottle toward Rafael. “Hell of a lot better than our cots in the military, huh?”

Rafael raised his bottle. “Thanks for this. It’s more than I expected. More than I deserve.”

“Come on, let’s get another beer and enjoy your living room,” Trey said.

When they all had new beverages, Stone set his beer on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch with his arms folded over his massive chest. “I have something I want to run by you guys. Have a seat.”

Rafael and Trey sat in the armchairs across from Stone. “What’s up?” Trey asked. “You look serious.”

“What do you guys think about going into business together?” Stone asked.

“How do you mean?” Rafael asked.

“Do what we did with this one. Buy a building or house, clean it up, and either rent it out or flip it,” Stone said.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Rafael said. “For you two. You’re the ones with the talent. Plus, every dime I had I put into this place.”

“We could take out loans. Veteran loans,” Stone said. “My brother said he’d lend me some money if we wanted to get started. And he’s here if we need advice.”

Kyle was a commercial real estate developer. If anyone could help, it would be him.

“As far as what your part would be, you’re the most anal, organized, money-tracking bastard I’ve ever met,” Stone said to Rafael. “You could run the business and find us places to buy and flip.”

“My best friend from college is a landscape architect.” Trey’s eyes lit up as the idea seemed to take hold of him. “Nico might be interested in joining us. He’s working for a jerk down in San Diego right now. He’s coming up in a few weeks. We could talk to him about it then.”

“A fourth partner would be good. Less risk,” Stone said.

“Less reward, but I get what you’re saying,” Rafael said. “I’d have to keep my day job, though. At least until we started making a profit.”

“Would we need an architect?” Trey asked.

“We can hire that out if we need one,” Stone said.

“I’ll think about it,” Rafael said. He reached into his pocket for the envelope Kara had given him. Now that he saw what she’d done, he felt even less like cashing it. However, if he used it more like a loan for the business, he could possibly pay them back.

“Like seriously think or like blowing me off because you don’t want to hurt my feelings?” Stone asked.

“The first one,” Rafael said.

“We could be Wolf Construction,” Trey said.

“Wolf Enterprises. That sounds fancier,” Stone said.

“It has a nice ring to it,” Rafael said.

Stone raised his beer. “To the future.”

“To the future,” Rafael and Trey repeated.

A knock on the door drew their attention away from their toast. Who could that be?

“You expecting someone?” Stone asked as he crossed the room in three long strides and opened the door.

Lisa Perry and Pepper Griffin stood in the doorway.

Rafael’s stomach did a somersault as he rose to his feet. Even dressed in cutoff jeans and a tank top that hugged her slender waist, Lisa was otherworldly beautiful with her alabaster skin, white-blond hair, and ice-blue eyes.

“Um, yeah, come on in,” Rafael said, finally.

“Hello, boys.” Pepper Griffin was petite and skinny with white skin and black hair cut to chin level. He wouldn’t describe her as classically pretty, more striking, with dark eyes that seemed to take up too much of her face.

“What’re you girls up to?” Stone took his hat off and held it in front of him like a kid, obviously flustered in the presence of Pepper. The poor sap had it bad.

“We were at the bookstore and saw Stone’s truck.” Lisa crossed over and gave him a quick hug. They were on hugging terms? When had that happened? Stone lived on his brother’s property, which was next door to Jackson and Maggie’s place. Maybe they’d spent time together over the summer. He knew Lisa had been staying there for a few weeks at least.

“Come in. Have a seat,” Rafael said.

Lisa sat on the couch, but Pepper moved about the room, seeming to inspect every square foot. Stone watched her as he leaned against the mantel and drank his beer.

“We’re sorry to come by uninvited,” Lisa said. “This apartment is gorgeous.”

“Kara Mullen surprised me and hired Trey to decorate it,” Rafael said.

Lisa’s dainty hands clasped together. “Really? That’s so sweet.”

“Supersweet,” Pepper said. “Trey, it looks amazing.”

“Appreciate it,” Trey said.

“The Mullens must love you,” Lisa said to Rafael.

“They’re mega rich,” Pepper said. “This is nothing to them. That’s how rich people exploit the working man. They do something like this and their employee stays with them forever, even if you pay them like crap.”

“Pepper, how gauche.” Lisa shot Rafael a sheepish smile. “I can’t take her anywhere.”

“They’re very good to me,” Rafael said. Pepper was like her name. A little bit went a long way. “Trey decorated the entire apartment without any input from me. He totally nailed it.”

“He had Rafael’s Pinterest board for a reference point,” Stone said.

Note to self: Kill Stone in his sleep.

“I love Pinterest.” Lisa smiled at him, and his heart grew. “I’ll follow you.” The whole world fell away for a moment as they stared at each other.

“Maybe you two can exchange recipes,” Stone said.

“Or I could just cook something for you,” Lisa said to Rafael.

“I have a lot of favorite recipes.”

Cook something for you.

Lisa turned her attention to Trey. “Someday I’m going to have a house and I want you to decorate it. You did such a good job with Maggie’s home.” A hint of wistfulness touched her voice. “I’m in love with every room.”

“And Maggie’s baby.” Pepper perched on the edge of the ottoman.

Lisa colored. “I have baby lust, it’s true.”

Baby lust. Could she be any more adorable?

“I built everything in here with my sweat, blood, and tears.” Stone held up his giant hands. “With my bare hands.”

Lisa smiled at Stone. “You big baby. You’re wonderful, too.”

“Thank you. I feel better now,” Stone said, grinning. “Calluses are sexy, right, Pepper?”

Pepper lifted a haughty chin and shot darts from her eyes aimed right at Stone’s chest. “If you like dead skin, sure.”

Stone laughed and winked at her. Pepper turned away, focusing her attention on the bowl of seashells on the table.

Lisa pointed at the cooler. “Are you having a party and didn’t invite us?”

“Worker bee party,” Stone said.

“We finished the renovations and got this place decorated. We’re celebrating,” Trey said.

“Would you ladies like anything? We only have beer,” Rafael asked, remembering his manners.

Lisa nodded. “We’d love one.”

“We’re never one to turn down adult beverages,” Pepper said.

“And we’re celebrating too,” Lisa said. “Pepper’s been offered a movie role.”

“That’s great,” Trey said.

Pepper shrugged her narrow shoulders and tossed her black curls. “It’s a horror film. I’m dead by the end of the first act.”

“Her character just has to look in that closet.” Lisa’s eyes danced as she took a beer from Stone.

“I’ll get my own,” Pepper said when Stone reached back into the cooler.

He grabbed a beer and held it out to Pepper with a saucy grin. “No. You’re our guest. I insist.”

Pepper smirked and took it from him. “Yes, sir.”

Okay now. He wasn’t sure what was going on there, other than five thousand sexual sparks and a major attitude from Miss Pepper.

Stone settled back into the couch, returning the smirk.

“What brings you by, anyway?” Rafael asked.

“We’ve come about an apartment,” Lisa said. “Is there one available?”

Rafael almost choked on his beer. Lisa Perry, living in his building? “Just one. It’s a two-bedroom on the second floor.”

Lisa’s face lit up. “That’s perfect. We want a place to share.”

“We’ll be in and out because of our work,” Pepper said. “But we want an apartment in Cliffside Bay to be by Maggie.”

“I hate living alone,” Lisa said. “So Pepper’s agreed to put up with me.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Hardly. Until this movie role I was so broke she took pity on me and offered to pay for a place.”

“Stop it. That’s not true,” Lisa said, with a shy duck of her chin.

“Lisa Perry is about to become a huge star,” Pepper said.

“Did you hear about Raven yet?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Rafael knew everything about Lisa Perry that was possible to know without having said more than a half dozen words to her. Unlike some, information about Lisa was easy to find. She was an actress with a recent hit series as the main character on a period piece called Indigo Road that aired on HBO. He’d watched every episode. Twice. Next week, her first feature film came out. According to what he read on the internet, she was about to become the next big thing.

“Pepper’s going to jinx me,” Lisa said. “She tells everyone we meet.”

“It couldn’t happen to a sweeter girl,” Stone said. “I’m happy for you.”

“She’s not a girl,” Pepper said. “Why do guys like you always call women girls?”

Stone raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend.”

“Well, you should think before you talk,” Pepper said.

“Yes ma’am.” Stone saluted her. “A guy like me will take that under advisement.”

Pepper’s eyes flew open even wider.

“Why do girls like you always call us guys?” Stone asked.

“It’s very offensive. We’re grown men.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a jackass,” Pepper said.

“A guy like me or a jackass? Which is it?” Stone asked.

“You know what—” Pepper said, before Lisa interrupted her.

“Pepper, give it a rest.” Lisa put her hand on her arm. “Maybe we could see the apartment now?”

“Sure, yeah,” Rafael said. The thought of Lisa Perry living downstairs from him made him light-headed. Not like it would give him more of a chance with her. Frankly, it was probably the perfect recipe for misery. She’d have men over and he’d see every one of the bastards leave from his building having spent the night with an angel.

He left the guys with their beers and took the ladies down the stairs to the second floor. The two apartments were mirror images of each other. One had a peekaboo view of the ocean. The other faced east and would have beautiful views of the sunrise over the mountains. Since Lavonne had already chosen the ocean view, he opened the door of the other apartment.

Lisa squealed and did this cute bouncy thing on her feet. “Rafael, it’s gorgeous. You guys did an amazing job.”

Pepper was at the window. “We’ll see the sun rise.”

They’d gone with an open-floor concept in the first- and second-floor apartments, with the kitchen and great room one big room. Trey had assured him that it would be the best use of space and light. He’d agreed, knowing nothing about either.

The ladies loved the bedrooms and complimented the bathroom for being spacious.

“Pepper’s a total slob,” Lisa said.

“I am not.” Pepper smacked her playfully on the shoulder.

“Who’s living directly above us?” Lisa asked. “Are they noisy?”

Neither of the other guys had said a word about the other apartment belonging to them. Instinct told him to keep quiet for now.

“Not that I know of,” he said.

“When can we move in?” Lisa asked.

“Don’t you want to know the rent?” he asked.

Lisa smacked her forehead. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I forgot to ask.”

He kept his voice steady, embarrassed by the amount. “Two thousand. Includes utilities.”

“Great,” Lisa said. “We’ll take it.”

“Come on. I’ll get your set of keys.”

Chapter 2: Lisa

Lisa woke the next morning in the guest room at Maggie’s house and reached for her phone. Using the bank app, she pulled up her savings account. She stared at the beautiful seven-figure sum and grinned. Soon, she would invest most of it, but for now she liked to remember how far she’d come.

Her manager, Sasha, had negotiated a good deal for a relatively unknown actress. The director had wanted her after seeing Indigo Road. If she was smart and invested conservatively, she could make it stretch over the rest of her life. She might not get another acting job. It was possible. Raven could be a flop. They could change their minds about a second season of Indigo Road. One never knew. For now, she was content knowing she would never have to take another cocktail waitressing job or search for coins in the cushions of the couch.

In a few days, she would leave for weeks of promotional activities, including the premier of Raven. As part of her contract, she was to appear on a variety of talk shows. Her reward would be to come home to a cute apartment where she would have a few months to relax before heading north to film the new season of Indigo Road.

After they left Rafael yesterday evening, she’d texted Trey to see if he could decorate the apartment for them while she was away. He’d agreed to have it ready for them when she returned at the end of August.

She showered and headed downstairs. Maggie and Jackson would have been up for at least an hour. Lily woke early and liked to have her breakfast after a good snuggle with Mommy. Jackson would already be at the office. As the primary doctor of Cliffside Bay, he probably had a slew of patients waiting.

The house smelled of coffee and cinnamon. A freshly baked breakfast cake was cooling on the counter. Lisa took a big sniff but made a piece of dry toast instead. Standing at the sink, she ate her piece of toast and watched the sparrows play in the birdbath. She loved these beautiful creatures, so delicate and graceful, yet strong enough to soar across the yard.

Her thoughts turned to Rafael Soto. During the weeks she’d been at Maggie’s this summer, he hadn’t appeared at any of the parties or nights out at the brewery. She hadn’t asked anyone about him, not wanting to give herself away. Yesterday, she’d thought about taking him aside and asking him to dinner, but she was too shy. She couldn’t tell if he liked her. He was so reserved it was impossible to make a guess either way. Stupidly, she’d asked Stone Hickman about him. The answer was noncommittal. “He’s fine. We’ve been too busy with the renovation to do much but work.”

She followed the sound of Maggie’s music into the living room. Maggie was on the couch with her guitar in hand. Music sheets were spread across the coffee table. Lily played on the floor with blocks. Pepper lounged in the chaise in the corner of the room, reading the book she’d bought yesterday. Neither of the grown-ups did much in the way of greeting, other than a grunt from Pepper and a headshake by Maggie. The little one, however, let out a joyful shriek and flung herself into Lisa’s arms.

“Hello, love.” Lisa sat on the floor with her back against the couch and brought Lily onto her lap. She kissed the top of her head and breathed in the scent of those red curls. She was a beautiful child, with white skin and red hair like her mother. She looked like Maggie, except for her blue eyes. Those were all Jackson.

“Sasaw,” Lily said as she snuggled into her chest. This was her nickname. Lisa turned to Sasaw.

Pepper sneezed. “I think I’m getting sick.” She didn’t seem to require a response, as she didn’t even look up from her book.

The three of them knew one another so well, there was really no need for talking. It could have been their apartment in New York except for the luxurious furnishings, the enormous house, and the most beautiful blue-eyed one-year-old on the planet.

Although she and Pepper adored staying at the house, it wasn’t fair to Jackson that they were always here. He never said anything, other than how much he loved Lisa’s cooking and appreciated Pepper’s insistence on doing the dishes. However, Lisa knew they needed to be alone in their nest without Pepper and Lisa mooching around. She’d been thrilled when Kara mentioned Rafael’s apartment building. The fact that Rafael owned it had nothing to do with why she wanted to rent the place. Right? Wrong. Fine. He was icing on an otherwise delicious cake. Who was she kidding? Rafael Soto was the best icing on the best cake ever made.

The plan was to live part-time here and part-time in Los Angeles, as needed. She and Pepper didn’t have a place in LA, but they’d agreed to discuss that after Pepper returned from British Columbia, where she was shooting the horror film.

She stretched and smiled as she gazed at the copper head against her chest. Morning sun softened the room. Outside the French doors, red flowers climbed a trellis. On the other side of the stone patio, the swimming pool was a deep blue. Life was different here in the land of sea and sunshine. The moment Lisa and Pepper arrived in California, their lives had fallen into place. At long last, it seemed their dues had been paid, and the lives they’d dreamed of were unfolding before them.

Maggie had reconnected with her childhood sweetheart, and now they had a beautiful home and a precious daughter. After a hit debut folk/rock album, Maggie was going on a short concert tour.

Life was good and about to get better.

Pepper sneezed again. “I’m definitely getting sick.”

“Don’t give it to the baby,” Maggie said.

“We have the concert tomorrow,” Lisa said. “You can’t get sick.” She and Pepper were heading north to a country music festival before they had to ship off to their destinations.

She startled when the doorbell rang. Maggie didn’t look up from her guitar, nor Pepper from her book. “Come on, Lily, let’s go see who it is.” With the baby on her hip, she traipsed down the hall to the front door. She tried to open it, but realized the lock was latched. Jackson always locked the door after he left in the morning.

She unlocked the door and yanked it open.

Rafael Soto.

Goodness, the man was hot in a T-shirt. He also wore cargo shorts and those sports sandals that were so popular out here. A manila envelope dangled from his right hand. Her name was written in even handwriting across the top. She was always impressed by how tidy he appeared: closely cropped hair, trimmed and clean fingernails, freshly shaven. A precise man. One who wasted no energy on false moves. She wondered if he’d take those same skills into the bedroom.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi,” Lily said, loud and clear, then waved. They joked that Lily waved like a pageant girl.

“Is this Lily?” Rafael asked. “She’s gotten so big.”

“She just had her first birthday, and she’s walking.”

“Is that early?” he asked.

“Um. No, not early. Right on time.”

“I’m sorry to bother you but I forgot to give you the paperwork to fill out.” He held up the envelope. “It’s a few legal documents to fill out.”

The morning sun was causing her to squint. “Come in, please.”

He grimaced and scratched behind his ear. “No, I can just give them to you and be on my way. You can drop them by later, or I can come back out to get them.”

“Please, come in. Lily and I are just hanging out. I have coffee cake.”

His dark brown eyes darted to his truck as if he wanted to escape. “I do like coffee cake.”

She moved aside so he could step past her.

“It smells good in here,” he said.

“This house always smells good. It’s because a family lives here.”

She avoided the living room and went straight into the kitchen. “Sit. Would you care for coffee?”

“Only if it’s already made.” He placed the envelope on the island and sat on one of the stools.

“You want cake too, Lily?”

Lily smiled and nodded her head with more enthusiasm than was necessary. “Yes. Cake.”

“She likes cake as much as I do,” Rafael said.

“She has limited experience of the world, but I’d have to say cake is her very favorite thing.”

“Cake,” Lily said.

Lisa set Lily in her high chair and latched the seat belt. She put the baby’s tray in place, then turned to get a coffee cup.

“You must have a lot of experience with babies,” Rafael said.

“A little. My twin brother has two. My niece is a little older than Lily. My nephew, Oliver, is almost four.” She poured coffee into a mug. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Just a little cream.”

She set a small pitcher in front of him.

“Fancy,” he said.

“Maggie keeps it in the fridge,” Lisa said. This house was all about the coffee.

Lily thumped her tray table and yelled cake three times in a row.

Lisa laughed as she cut a small piece for the baby and set it on the tray. Lily stuffed the entire thing in her mouth.

“She’ll need a bath later,” Lisa said.

“Is Maggie out?” he asked.

“No, she’s in the living room. She’s working on a new song. When she’s like that, I watch the baby so she can work. She gets laser focused.” Lisa cut a large square piece and set it on a plate, then slid it over to him. “Would you like a fork?”

“Yes, please.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “If I was alone, I’d just stuff the whole thing in my mouth like my friend Lily.”

Lisa warmed at the sight of his smile and handed him a fork. “You should smile more. You have a beautiful one.”

He cut into the cake with his fork. “You’re the second person in two days to say that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Honor Shaw pointed it out yesterday when she was threatening me with a sharp pencil.”

Lisa laughed. “Honor is like Hermia. ‘And though she be but little, she is fierce.’”

He looked at her blankly. “Hermia?”

“Shakespeare. Midsummer Night’s Dream. Never mind. Theater geek joke.”

“I don’t know much about Shakespeare.”

She flushed. Why had she said that? It had obviously made him feel bad. So thoughtless. No wonder she could never find a good man.

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say,” she said. “Most people wouldn’t recognize that quote. I probably sounded pretentious.”

He looked up from his cake. As he held his fork in midair, his brown eyes looked straight into hers. “Why are you apologizing? You should never say you’re sorry for knowing something others don’t. Just because I’m an uneducated slob doesn’t mean you should apologize for sharing your expertise. Men love to make women feel shamed when their fragile egos are threatened, so women have learned to pretend they know less than they do. Real men know smart women are sexy.” He went back to his cake.

She had no idea what to say. For one thing, she’d never heard him say that many words in a row. Secondly, he sounded about as opposite of an “uneducated slob” as one could get.

“That’s very enlightened of you,” she said, finally.

He looked up, amusement in his eyes. “If you met my mama, everything about me would be perfectly clear.”

“Given your experiences, I’d bet money you know a heck of a lot more than most.” She topped off his coffee.

He touched the napkin to his mouth. “The stuff I know—I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

“Oh dear.”

The corners of his mouth lifted in one of his quarter smiles.

“It’s okay. I took the gig. The military got me out of poverty. I live with the consequences.”

“You’re a hero, though. That must mean something to you.”

“It’s validating when people thank me for my service. But what happens in war is never as black and white as civilians like to think. Whether or not I was heroic is something only God can decide.”

“I suppose that’s true for all of us.”

He picked up his plate and mug. “Thank you for the coffee and the cake. You made my day off even better.” He came around the island and set the dishes by the sink. Rafael Soto moved like a stealthy panther, without making a sound and with dexterous ease. When he passed by her, she caught the scent of him—fresh soap and a spicy deodorant. No cologne. He wasn’t the type.

He knelt by Lily’s high chair. The muscles in his shoulders and back rippled under his thin shirt.

“How’s your cake?” he asked the baby.

She held up a sticky hand in response and smiled.

Rafael straightened and put his hand over his chest. “She’s a heartbreaker.” He touched the top of her head. “This hair.”

“I know. I hate to leave her, but I have work stuff coming up.” Three weeks without Lily and the sea breeze.

“When will you be back?”

“At the end of August. I’ll have some time off before we film the second season of Indigo Road.”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Second season’s taking forever to come out.”

What? He’d seen the show? “You watch?”

“Yeah.” His gaze flickered to above her head.

“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Soto.”

“It’s not my usual type of show, but since I kind of know you, I had to tune in. It’s not every day a guy like me knows a beautiful movie star.”

“I’m not really a star.”

“You’re extremely talented. I can’t take my eyes off you.” He cleared his throat. “Onscreen, I mean.”

“Really?”

“It’s hard to imagine how anyone could.”

“I can. Trust me. I hate watching myself. And my voice. I’m always, like, ‘Do I really sound like that?’”

“Everything about you is beautiful. Including your voice.” He nodded toward the door. “I should go.” He crossed the kitchen without making a sound.

Everything about you is beautiful. Had he just said that, or had she heard him wrong?

Do it. Just do it now before he leaves and you lose your chance.

“Would you ever want to go out sometime? Like for dinner or something?” she asked his backside.

Almost to the door, he whipped around to look at her. “You want to go out with me?”

“Yes. I mean, if you want to.” Why had she asked him? He didn’t want to go out with her. If he did, he would have asked her already.

“I can’t afford much, as far as dinner goes.” His hands were back in his pockets. “Everything I’ve got is sunk into the building.”

“I’ll cook for you then. In my new apartment.”

He looked at the floor and tugged on his collar. “I’m not boyfriend material. Not for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” What did that mean? She wasn’t good enough for him? Too many ex-boyfriends for a good Catholic boy? Too New York jaded?

“Hollywood. Old-school glamour.” He glanced behind him, like he was expecting someone to walk through the door. “You didn’t ask how much the rent was.”

She looked down at the counter and placed her sweating hands flat against the cool granite. Stupid girl for thinking he might like you. “All right. Enough said. Forget I asked.”

She waited for him to leave, wishing the floor would open and whisk her away.

“Lisa.”

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Trust me when I say, it’s not you but me.”

“Yeah. No problem. I get it.” She didn’t get it. What did money have to do with anything? Up until recently she’d had less than Rafael.

“I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Really. I misread the signals.” Just leave, please.

“You can fill the paperwork out and bring it by whenever you can.”

“Will do.”

He turned to go, but then stopped and returned his gaze to her. “The reason I don’t smile is because my teeth used to be gray.” He tapped his mouth. “I got these Hollywood teeth put on a year ago. I’m still learning how to smile.”

She nodded. There was a time she needed to learn how to smile, too. During those dark days she wasn’t sure she ever would again. “I understand perfectly.”

“See you around.”

And with that he was gone.

***

Lisa stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers under the unforgiving August sun. Mist from the sprinklers strategically placed around the fairground’s concert arena was the only relief from the heat. Dust covered her feet and ankles. The air smelled of beer, popcorn, and sweaty bodies.

They were waiting for the last act of the day—headliner Wyatt Black.

Lisa smiled at the woman next to her.

“Popcorn?” she asked.

“I’m good. I’ve got my beer,” Lisa said.

“I’m Cheryl. Seeing Wyatt was on my bucket list,” she said.

“My husband got these tickets for my fiftieth birthday. He was supposed to come, but he got called into work.”

“I’m sorry. My best friend was supposed to come but she’s sick.”

“Well, we can be each other’s dates then,” Cheryl said.

“Done.” They exchanged another smile.

She wished Pepper could be here. Sadly, those initial sneezes were indeed the beginning of a cold. This morning she hadn’t been able to get out of bed. Lisa had borrowed Maggie’s car and driven by herself. It was fine, she’d told herself during the hour it took to get to the festival from Cliffside Bay. Being alone was good for her. She needed to do more things alone. Twins were never alone. Then she’d become a triplet with Maggie and Pepper. She had to learn to be comfortable doing things solo.

As Wyatt Black took the stage, the crowd roared its welcome. Wyatt Black was the hottest thing in country music. Classically good-looking but with a bad-boy aura, he crooned a love song like no one else.

After the audience applause lessened, he sang the opening notes of his current hit. She and Cheryl locked arms, strangers united by their love of music. Lisa noted Cheryl’s sandals, a little ragged and faded. Her husband had probably saved for months to afford these tickets.

The crowd sang along with Wyatt. They all knew the lyrics, as though they’d helped write them. His was the voice of the people in this audience. Hardworking Americans felt a kinship with this man. He was them. Wyatt had grown up in a trailer in the woods with his single mother. The odds to break out of the cycle of poverty were stacked against him. Yet he had. By writing songs that gave a voice to the poor, the working class, the disenfranchised. His lyrics were about real struggles: money problems, heartbreak, family, love. They were deceptively simple, in Lisa’s opinion. The words and music combined with Wyatt’s soulful voice touched a chord in people, made them feel less alone in a terrifying world. Women swooned for him. Men felt as if he were their brother.

Her thoughts drifted to Rafael. He’d misjudged her. She understood the people in this audience far better than she did the people she’d met in Hollywood. These were her people. If he weren’t so prideful, Rafael might have taken the time to see beyond outside appearances. He had no idea of the dark places she’d been. Now he never would. Whatever. He was just another jerk, like all the guys she liked.

A popping sound interrupted the music. Was there something wrong with the sound system? Wyatt continued to sing for a moment, then stopped, looking confused. Crew rushed onto the stage and pulled Wyatt and the band off arena. The popping sound continued, like the loudest popcorn maker ever made.

Someone shouted, “There’s a shooter.”

That was the popping noise. Bullets. A shooter.

Bullets rained from the sky.

She and Cheryl looked in each other’s eyes. “We have to get out of here,” Lisa said as her beer fell to the ground.

Lisa grabbed Cheryl’s hand. The crowd surged, this way, then that, both the individual and the collective searching for shelter. Bullets, one after the other, with no space between, pelted the crowd. Someone pushed her from behind and she stumbled. Cheryl jerked and fell. Lisa knelt beside her. A hole the size of two fists had ripped open her chest. Blood soaked into the dry earth.

A man shouted at her. “You have to run.”

She looked up to see a gray mustache and eyes the color of a muddy river. A cowboy hat shaded his face.

“But she’s hurt. I have to take her with me.”

“I’m sorry, sister, but she’s gone. C’mon now.” He lifted her to her feet, the strength of him like an electric shock that shook her awake. “Hold tight to my hand.” She gripped his fingers and tried to run, but in truth, he dragged her. She fixed her gaze on the back of his brown boots. Don’t lose sight of his boots. Don’t let go of his hand. Around them people passed. The awful cracking sound continued, louder than the screams.

Someone tumbled into her. She fell face-first. Blood covered the grass like morning dew. She sobbed and tried to rise to her feet. The man lifted her into his arms. He ran with her clinging to his neck. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise you. Just hang tight.”

They ran with the surging crowd.

 

Shop the Cliffside Bay series

★★★★★ "It caught my attention from the start, I was drawn into Billie's world. Every word, every emotion I felt it. Couldn't stop reading and wishing it wouldn't end. (Goodreads Review)

Billie Murphy's life is about to change.

It's her 20th birthday and her final days in Paris after years of living abroad with her father, a top US diplomat, and Billie is feeling all the feelings-saddened to leave her friends and abuzz with anticipation about what comes next. A night of dancing, wine, and a chance encounter with a handsome Princeton athlete, is a near-perfect send-off.

When Billie's dad gifts her the keys to her own NYC apartment, she embraces the chance for a fresh start in a new city, even if she has to remain under the watchful eyes of her caretaker and bodyguards, including Caleb, who may be more than just a protector and friend.

Within days of her arrival, Billie senses a change in Caleb, who's suddenly apprehensive about her rekindled relationship with Thomas-the handsome American, her wealthy new friends, and the beguiling (and not to mention gorgeous) Swedish family upstairs. He's been over-protective of her since the mysterious death of her mother years ago, but lately, he's been acting like there's more at stake than ever before.

As Billie steps into an eye-opening world of wealth and secrets-where everyone may not be who they seem-she'll have to navigate her volatile new relationships and the mysteries of her past to find her path forward.

★★★★★ "The author has a very unique way of developing characters who will make you fall in love with them." (Goodreads Review)

★★★★★ "I just love the way Alejandra writes. She literally makes you feel like you're there. And the unexpected twists will make your heart explode!" (Goodreads Review)

★★★★★ "Couldn't stop reading, love every part of it! Can't wait for book 2!" (Goodreads Review)

About the Author
Andrade, Alejandra: - Alejandra lives in Mérida, Yucatán, México with her husband and son. She's a music lover, a geek at heart, and a fan of all things Christopher Nolan, Star Wars, LOTR, GOT, et cetera. Moonstruck at Midnight is her debut novel of the Moonstruck Series. You can find her on social media on Facebook & Instagram as long as her 30-minute social media app limit hasn't elapsed.

On a trip to reignite the spark in her marriage, Alaina Grace's upgraded first-class ticket places her far from her husband and next to the notorious Jack Volmer, a former teen actor who'd previously hung on posters in her childhood bedroom. When an unusual storm forces their plane out of the sky, her ticket will save her life and force her to question everything.

Ripped from the comforts of her world and injured, Alaina finds herself on a raft in the ocean, completely separated from her husband among eleven strangers.

Seeking comfort in the presence of the single familiar face, Alaina quickly finds herself torn between her past and her present; between two loves in two contrasting worlds, and must let go of one in order to keep the other.

Arriving on an island in the middle of the Pacific, strangers become family as they navigate unfamiliar terrain to uncover hidden mysteries, endless adventure, and love where they least expected to find it.

A duke's governess, a gentleman scientist, and a castle full of flowers is the perfect setting for a summer romance.

As the new governess to the duke's family, Alice Sharpe must learn to control her impulsive ways. Employment in the duke's household is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and could mean living in comfort the rest of her days. Unfortunately, her first encounter with the duke's neighbor, a handsome scientist, proves she may not be ready for the austere role of governess.

Rupert Gardiner has one goal: to have his work in botany published by the Royal Society. He is fortunate that his neighbor, the duke, believes in him and enlists Rupert to make a record of all the flora on the castle grounds. But Miss Sharpe's spontaneity and continual appearance during his work is a rather annoying distraction. At least, that's what he tells himself.

While Alice struggles to adapt to her new role, constantly battling who she is and the person she believes she must become, she cannot help but admire Rupert's intelligence and focus. The more often they fall in together, the more her admiration deepens. But could a gentleman such as he ever fall in love with the governess?

As the first stand-alone novel in a new series by author Sally Britton, this story begins the Clairvoir Castle romances. This is a light-hearted series set in the Regency period.

Sally Britton's other works include:

The Inglewood Romances:

Rescuing Lord Inglewood

Discovering Grace

Saving Miss Everly

Engaging Sir Isaac

Reforming Lord Neil

and her seven novels in the Branches of Love Series.

“Sexy. Suspenseful. Heartbreaking. Empowering. And that just describes the writing—wait until you devour the story. Nothing I say will do this book justice. It's the best book I've ever read. Simple as that." —Colleen Hoover, New York Times bestselling author

When reclusive novelist Senna Richards wakes up on her thirty-third birthday, everything has changed. Caged behind an electrical fence, locked in a house in the middle of the snow, Senna is left to decode the clues to find out why she was taken. If she wants her freedom, she has to take a close look at her past. But, her past has a heartbeat...and her kidnapper is nowhere to be found. With her survival hanging by a thread, Senna soon realizes this is a game. A dangerous one. Only the truth can set her free.

Author Bio:

Tarryn Fisher is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of ten novels. Born a sun hater, she currently makes her home in Seattle, Washington with her children, husband, and psychotic husky. Tarryn writes about villains.

Falling in love with a Bennet is not an option.

My mother has summoned me home to take my place at Bower Bouquets, and I’m expected to sit by her side as she does her best to decimate the Bennet family and their flower shop, Longbourne. If I don’t play by her rules, she’ll ruin me too.

But the day I crash into Marcus Bennet, my life is left scattered in the wreckage.
When he catches me in the rain, the topography of his lean, rugged body leaves a permanent impression. His arms locked around me are forbidden, even though they’re the only place I’ve felt truly safe.

And when he kisses me, there’s no turning back.

If my mother finds out, I’ll lose everything—my family, my life, my security. Worse, she’ll make sure the Bennets pay for my mistakes.

Falling in love with a Bennet is not an option.

But I might not have a choice.

Author Bio:

Staci Hart writes romance for that feeling you get at the end, like you’re standing on top of a mountain with a backpack full of hundred dollar bills. She writes romcoms because is there anything better than banter and grand gestures? She writes because she loves to create and she loves words. She loves books, and she loves stretching her imagination. She loves love, and if you do too, bring your coffee and have a seat. 

Very few in Aspen Lake expected that I, Calista Monroe, their most notorious wild child, would ever amount to anything besides being a model prisoner. So imagine their surprise when I returned as the hospital's newest ER doctor. Believe me, no one is more surprised than I am. I had vowed to never return, even if it was the last safe haven during the zombie apocalypse. But when my niece, Quinn, begged me to come home, I couldn't say no. My plan is to stay out of trouble this time, and above all, avoid Quinn's uncle Tristan-the man I love to hate and the reason I left Aspen Lake.

But trouble starts to brew when my niece gets it into her pretty head that her uncle and I need to reconcile. The devious little thing insists we deck the halls together all season long. And since I'll do anything to make Quinn happy, I agree, believing I'm completely immune to Tristan's charm. Except the joke's on me. Who knew that Tristan's biggest regret was letting me go? And the infuriating man seems willing to do everything possible to win me back. Well, it's going to take a Christmas miracle for me to give him a second chance. Unfortunately for my plan, our chemistry could set a blizzard on fire. Now I have a major ex emergency on my hands.

Do I give my niece her Christmas wish, or do I let the love between Tristan and me flatline once and for all?

USA Today best-selling author Jennifer Peel presents a sweet and swoony holiday rom-com that will leave you feeling oh so merry and bright.

"I had a feeling their story would be my favorite, and it is. This is the perfect ending to this series "- Kathy Jo from KJ's Book Nook"I love everything Jennifer Peel writes, but this book-this book is in a class by itself It's everything romance is meant to be." - Whitney Dineen, Number One Bestselling Author of The Relatively SeriesLove knows no contract.Aspen Parker's life can be summed up in one word. Unexpected. For instance, she never expected to become a mother at twenty. Her divorce at twenty-one really threw her off. She certainly didn't see losing her promotion at the bank to that weasel Stephen. And she most definitely didn't see Miles Wickham, better known as Taron Taylor-international bestselling author, the man whose words have captivated her-offering her a job to be his nephew's nanny. But there's a caveat to accepting the position; she must sign a contract agreeing to no romantic entanglements between her and the debonair Brit. Aspen doesn't expect this to be an issue seeing as she's not particularly fond of men. Once again, though, life is not turning out how she expected. While Aspen and Miles traverse single parenthood together, there's no denying the chemistry between them. She can't figure out how her charming boss knows how to pierce the protective layers of her heart, and it's driving her mad. Mad with desire that is. Miles, too, is finding it hard to resist the reserved beauty who brilliantly takes care of his nephew and him. But with both their tentative hearts on the line, can they risk taking a chance on each other? Which will win? Love or the contract?

"Oh. My. Lan. Ta. Thank you, Jennifer Peel, for another fantastic, romantic escape. I could live in your books forever." - Aimee, Getting Your Read On"My Not So Wicked Ex-Fiancé was AMAZING! It more than lived up to the first book in the series. In fact, I think I loved it more." - Author Becky Monson, Best Selling Author of the Spinster Series He rocked her world. She wrecked his. Now their worlds are colliding again. Expensive schools and etiquette classes never prepared Shelby Duchane for Ryder Prescott. He taught her more about life in his hayfield classroom beneath a blanket of stars than anyone. Under that Georgia sky, she pledged forever to the farm boy with soul-melting chocolate brown eyes, even though it meant forfeiting her large inheritance. She couldn't wait to clip coupons and buy clothes off the sales rack until death do they part. But then she receives some photos of her intended with someone she had not intended. Brokenhearted, Shelby flees her hometown for Colorado without bothering to say goodbye to her cheating ex-fiancé. A year later and wiser, Shelby's doing her best to move on while running her boutique in Carrington Cove, when Ryder shows up and challenges all she thought she knew. Perhaps he wasn't the wicked ex-fiancé she believed him to be after all. But will Ryder be able to swallow his pride enough to see why she was so persuaded? Will he realize before it's too late that the only way to heal his own broken heart is to mend Shelby's?