I didn’t need to see the photographs of the wrecked car or the glass and metal strewn across the gutter. I didn’t need the reminder of how close it had been this time. I closed the newspaper, folded it in half, and slid it across the counter and let out an exhausted sigh. I didn’t want to meet Jeffrey’s disappointed gaze. I knew that look. I’d seen it more times than I could count. Jeffrey Kwon, a distinguished Korean-Australian man with short greying hair and a kind face, had been a close friend of Monroe’s parents as well as their trusted lawyer for thirty years, and Jeffrey assumed the same role for Monroe when his parents died. He was no-nonsense and astute, but he had a heart of gold and everyone knew Monroe would be lost without him. Well, everyone but Monroe.

“Where is he?”

“Still asleep,” I replied. I walked over to the nearest couch and all but fell into it, my head in my hands.

“You haven’t been to bed yet?”

I was too tired to even scoff. “Nope. It was after three by the time we left the police station. And then I had to get him into bed.” I didn’t tell him that I’d sat on the end of Monroe’s bed when he’d passed out, trying to calm my anxiety. How many nights had I got a phone call from him, drunk, needing help or a lift, to pick him up from a bar or the police station? A quick glance at my phone told me it was just after eight. The morning sun was up and glaring angrily over the Pacific like it could feel my mood. I scrubbed my hand over my face, feeling the minutes of sleep I’d missed. “How he didn’t hurt himself or someone else, I’ll never know.”

“It’s only a matter of time before he does.” Jeffrey’s tone was as sharp as his suit, whereas I felt like Monroe’s crumpled wreck that had been winched onto the tow truck last night.

I nodded, because he was right. We all knew he was right. Everyone, that was, but Monroe.

“I’ll have the insurance forms sent over this afternoon,” Jeffrey said. He rarely let his emotions show, but I could tell he was angry and disappointed. He was probably a dozen different emotions right now. What he wasn’t was surprised. This was far from the first time.

“Thanks, Jeffrey. He does appreciate it.”

He gave a nod and walked toward the grand foyer, but he stopped before he got to the door. “Does he? Does he appreciate all you do for him?”

I didn’t answer. Even if I knew what to say, I couldn’t get the words out. But Jeffrey didn’t wait for a reply. The soft click of the front door was loud in the silence.

My heart was a weighted lump in my chest. My ribs felt too tight like I couldn’t breathe properly. Like I hadn’t been able to breathe properly in years. The space of Monroe’s house was vast—tiled floors, high ceilings, glass walls overlooking the ocean, no expense spared—yet the vast emptiness was overwhelming. A mansion worth several million dollars, on every elite real-estate list in Australia, was a hollow void of loneliness and grief, much like the man who owned it. Who was, at that very moment, passed out drunk in his bed.

The heaviness of the last twelve hours settled over me, and I slumped down on the couch, pulled a cushion under my head, and closed my eyes.

* * *

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up.”

I startled and shot up. Disoriented at first, until I remembered I was on Monroe’s couch. He was standing at the end of the sofa with his arms full of brown paper bags, and then I could smell something.

“I was starving,” he said. “And Uber Eats is a gift from the gods. Shuffle up.”

I slid up the couch a little and he parked himself next to me, shoved the bags and a pizza box onto the coffee table, then pulled it toward us. “I didn’t know what you felt like, so I got that wood-fired pizza you like and some curry and—”

“What time is it?” I asked. Usually the view out the window was a good indication of the time, but it had come over cloudy. Summer storms usually rolled in around four.

“Half two.”

“Shit. I didn’t mean to sleep that long. I was supposed to go into the office today.”

Monroe shrugged like he did to most responsibility. “Here, get this into ya.” He opened the pizza box and turned it to face me.

I took a bite and moaned. It was so good. “How long you been up?”

“An hour or so.”

His black hair was damp and he smelled of salt water. “I didn’t hear you swim.” Which was surprising considering the living room opened up into the pool area.

“Stealth mode,” he said with a grin, his blue eyes sparkling. “Nah. You were dead to the world.”

I didn’t bother explaining that I didn’t get to sleep till after eight. I studied his face; there was a small scratch on his forehead and marks on his hands, probably from the glass or air bag. “How you feeling?”

“Good.”

And that was his problem. He always woke up feeling fine. Maybe if he’d ever suffered just one hangover in his life, he might think twice about drinking so much.

“Your picture’s in the paper,” I said. “And photos of the car.”

He grimaced for half a second before he took another forkful of curry. “You see Jeffrey?”

I nodded. “He was here before eight this morning. He brought the paper with him.”

Monroe stirred his curry, frowning. “Was he mad?”

“Yep. Said he’ll have the insurance papers sent around for the car.” I took a bite of pizza and swallowed it. “Wanna tell me what happened last night?”

He sighed. “Not really. I had one too many. You know how it is.”

“One?”

“Okay, a few.”

“And you drove.”

“I was fine.”

“Your blood alcohol level was high range.”

He frowned again, this time stabbing a piece of curried beef. “I was fine. I didn’t feel drunk at all.”

I knew there was no point in arguing with him, so I tried a different approach. “You could have hurt yourself, Monroe,” I said gently. “Or someone else. You’re lucky it was a pole you hit and not a pedestrian or a car full of kids.”

“Yeah, it was stupid, I know. I won’t do it again.”

“Well, no, you can’t. Because now you don’t have a car or a licence.”

He pointed his fork at me. “That is true. Well, there’s the old Discovery in the garage,” he said. “Haven’t driven that in a while.”

“Old? It’s two years old,” I said. “And you’re not driving it anywhere. You get caught driving unlicensed now and the judge will likely throw the book at you to prove a point. Not to mention that unlicensed means uninsured.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he asked, giving me that sly grin that usually got him out of all kinds of trouble.

“My sense of adventure is keeping you out of jail.”

He chuckled and nudged me with his shoulder. “Always looking out for me,” he said. “Thanks, by the way, for coming to get me last night.”

“I should have left you there,” I said, nudging him back. “In a cell with two guys named Warthog and Donk.”

He laughed. “Sounds like a dream I had once. It didn’t end badly, let’s just say that much.”

I snorted, unable to stay mad at him. And that was my problem. I could never stay mad at him.

He put his curry down and took a slice of pizza, biting into it. “Mmm, this is good too. Hey, we should go out tonight. There’s a summer blues night on at the Wharf.”

I shook my head, but he was, like always, relentless and charming and so fucking cute, and I could never say no to him. Which was another one of my problems.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s summer. We’ll have a swim, laze about for the afternoon, have a nap, then we can go out later. Who knows, you might even find some random to take home.”

I forced a smile, like I always did. “Unlikely.”

“Dunno why,” he said, oblivious. “You don’t look half bad,” he said with a smirk and a nudge. “If a young Robert Redford is your thing and you have more money than God. And fuck knows guys throw themselves at you.”

“More money than God?”

“Shut up, you know you do.” He pushed the pizza box away. “You know what your problem is, Erik?”

Actually, I did. But I played along. “Nope, tell me what my problem is.”

“You’re too picky.”

I snorted. “Is that right?”

“Yep. So tonight, when a guy looks twice at you, take him into the bathrooms.”

“Not really my style, but thanks.”

He laughed and stood up, then walked toward the pool. The glass doors were all pushed back, transforming the inside living area into a huge outdoor living area. He peeled off his shirt and stopped to face me. He looked even better in the sunlight. “Are you gonna lecture me about swimming after eating?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Then get your arse into the pool with me. It’s too nice a day and life is too damn short.” He tossed his shirt and dived into the pool.

And there were both our problems laid bare. His was that he shirked off all responsibility, drank far too much, and lived like every day was his last, which in his case, with his drinking problem and reckless nature, it very well could be.

My problem was that I couldn’t stay mad at him and I couldn’t say no to him.

Oh, that, and I was absolutely head over heels in love with him. Had been since we were eighteen years old. I was so in love with him, I’d let him treat me like a doormat if it just meant he’d keep me around. It was a sickness.

He had his addiction, and he was mine.

His addiction to alcohol was killing him.

And watching him slowly spiral out of control, being so close to him but so far away, was killing me.

Addiction, in all its forms, fucking sucked.

Cindi Madsen is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance and young adult novels. She sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting revising, and falling in love with her characters. Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she’d be even crazier. She has way too many shoes, but can always find a reason to buy a new pretty pair, especially if they’re sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music, dancing, and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband and three children.

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Addison Murphy is the funny friend, the girl you grab a beer with—the girl voted most likely to start her own sweatshirt line. And now that one of her best guy friends is getting married, she’ll add “groomsman” to that list, too. She’ll get through this wedding if it’s the last thing she does. Just don’t ask her to dive for any bouquet.

When Tucker Crawford returns to his small hometown, he expects to see the same old people, feel comfort in the same old things. He certainly doesn’t expect to see the nice pair of bare legs sticking out from under the hood of a broken-down car. Certainly doesn’t expect to feel his heart beat faster when he realizes they belong to one of his best friends.

If he convinces Addie to give him a chance, they could be electric…or their break-up could split their tight-knit group in two.

Hiding the way he feels from the guys through bachelor parties, cake tastings, and rehearsals is one thing. But just as Tucker realizes that Addie truly could be the perfect woman for him—he was just too stupid to realize it—now she’s leaving to follow her own dreams. He’s going to need to do a lot of compromising if he’s going to convince her to take a shot at forever with him—on her terms this time.

Purchase: Amazon Paperback | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo

Tucker cautiously wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and when she didn’t shove him off, the way she’d done a few times back in the day when he’d dared to console her, he curled her closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it to the grave.” “I’m not sure I can chance that. I might have to push you off the back of the boat now.” “Sure. If I didn’t know how to swim, that’d be a fail-safe plan.” “Maybe the gators will get to you first,” she quipped, only then she tucked her feet up, like she’d remembered there might be a few of the toothy beasts slumbering in the water, despite the fact that they rarely saw any on this side of the shore. She swiped a tear off her cheek and sniffed. “I hate feeling weak. Hate feeling like a girl. Even though I’m apparently not one.” “You’re not weak. I’ve seen grown men cry in my office, so I don’t think it’s a girl or guy thing.” “I notice you didn’t admit to crying yourself.” He puffed out his chest. “Well, that’s because I’m far too macho.” The last few times he’d gotten choked up had been over his dog having to be put down, his grandfather passing away, and—even though he’d done his damnedest to hide it—the day he’d said goodbye to his friends before leaving town. The girl at his side was there for all those instances, but his conflicting feelings for her made it hard to admit to ever being anything but strong. Like not saying it aloud would make her forget bike wrecks and scraped knees that’d brought tears, the times in his life he hadn’t stood up for other people when he should’ve, or any other time he’d been less than strong. Just do it, Crawford. Find a way to make her feel better, the way she always did for you. “There were cases, ones where I was fighting for a worthy cause, or for someone who truly deserved a break, and it didn’t matter how much research I put in, or how hard I fought, I’d still lose ’em. That made me feel weak and helpless.” Those “cases were why he’d originally chosen law, but they’d been so few and far between. “So did the cases where we had to defend people knowing full well they were guilty.” He gazed out over the lake, unable to look at her as he admitted the next part. “I missed home and all of you guys, but I quit over more than that, and more than the long hours.” His fingers drifted down her arm, and her face tipped up, but he kept his eyes on the rippling reflection of the moon in the inky black water. “One guy walked on a stupid technicality because of something I’d found in the police report—some procedure the cop didn’t follow. Everyone at the firm was celebrating, and I was sick over it. The guy deserved to go to jail, and no amount of money seemed worth ignoring that fact. It was the final straw.” Addie covered the hand he had on her arm with hers. “Most people wouldn’t have been able to walk away from the money.” “I don’t know about that. Half the time I still think I was an idiot to quit like that with no backup.” “If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you’re here.” He met her big brown eyes and smiled. “It does.” “I’m sorry you were so unhappy. I should’ve checked in more.” “I should’ve told you that I was struggling with my job. But that’s neither here nor there. Now I’m on a different path, and all’s I’m saying is, it’s not weak to care about things. You’re not a robot.” He renewed the drag of his fingers on her arm, and her chin lifted another inch or so, some of the sorrow fading from her features. He tried not to think about how close her lips were to his, how he felt each one of his heartbeats, and how having her tucked against him made his entire body hum. Despite knowing better, he couldn’t help the words that slipped out, or that his dipped when he said them. “It also hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re a girl.”

Chapter ONE

“A mechanic? Seriously, Sonja?”

Jeff Brewster stopped, drinks in hand, several feet away from Sonja Cooper and the man who was questioning her. Sonja’s ex-husband, he assumed. Although they hadn’t been formally introduced, the impeccably dressed man was around the right age and had been seated in the bride’s family pew at the wedding with Sonja, little Shelley, and Sonja’s cousin.

“I thought the whole purpose behind your ridiculous move to Indigo Bay was to be independent and better your situation.”

The man’s voice should have been dimmed by the hum of voices filling the ballroom of the soon-to-be open Morrison Mansion B&B, owned by Sonja and Jeff’s son Jesse. But it came through to Jeff loud and clear.

The guy continued, “I take time out of my work schedule to fly down here … and this is what I find. You should have remembered that the national sales conference is always around this time and how much work that means for me. I get here and find out she doesn’t want me to give her away or even participate in the ceremony.”

As uncomfortable as he felt eavesdropping, Jeff stayed rooted to the spot where he’d stopped. Sonja might need him.

“Can you blame her after the way you left us with no financial support to go start a new family?” Sonja said.

“And your solution to your and Lauren’s financial needs was to spend what money you did have to move nearly 900 miles away from everyone you knew and hook up with a guy who fixes motorcycles? ”

Sonja’s back went ramrod straight, and Jeff was surprised that her ex wasn’t pushed backward by the anger radiating from her. ‘That comment doesn’t deserve a response. I have not, nor do I ever plan to, get myself into a relationship where I’m depending on a man again for anything.”

Jeff’s gut clenched. He and Sonja weren’t anything more than in-laws, grandparents who shared his son’s daughter Shelley, possibly friends. But Sonja’s lack of words in his defense and her vehemence about not depending on a man laid open buried wounds about failing his deceased wife when she’d needed him most. Sonja’s ex was right about him not having anything to offer her. Everything he’d had had gone to his wife’s medical bills.

Not that he was about to offer Sonja anything but the drink he held. He forced his seemingly weighted feet into action and finished crossing the room to Sonja.

“Here’s that drink you wanted.”

She turned around. Her eyes narrowed.

Jeff halted. Did not depending on men include him delivering the drink he’d offered to get her? He was getting one for himself after all. He hesitated, the drink between them.

In a 180 turnaround, her face came to life, making her look far too young to have a twenty-eight-eight-year-old daughter. “Thanks, Jeff.”

He released his held breath and handed her the drink, sizing up the man standing across from Sonja. The guy was shorter than him and the tailored suit he wore didn’t quite hide the paunch in what may have once been an athletic physique. Jeff tightened his stomach muscles. One thing he could say about manual labor, it was a great workout.

“I don’t think you’ve met Tom Cooper, Lauren’s father,” Sonja said.

Lauren’s father, not her ex-husband. Interesting.

“Tom, this is Jeff Brewster, Jesse’s father.”

Again with the father stuff. But what did he expect? He was Jesse’s father. And Shelley’s grandfather. Why did that make him sound so old? Being a grandfather did not change the fact that he was only forty-seven.

Jeff accepted Tom’s offered hand, gripping it a shade too hard for the handshake and noticing the softness despite the guy’s tightening grip. “Nice to meet you,” Jeff said, feeling anything but nice. The guy’s soft hands and the casual, comfortable way he wore his suit, shouted money to Jeff. As for himself, it took all of his will power not to run his finger around the constricting collar of his tuxedo shirt when Tom released his hand. In the past when he’d had to dress up, he’d had his deceased wife, Shelley, to gently stop him from fiddling with his tie or collar button. He couldn’t expect Sonja to do the same. So why was he searching her face for help?

Sonja broke their eye contact. “I need to go check with the banquet coordinator. Thanks for the drink.”

“And I have a plane to catch,” Tom said.

Seriously? The man wasn’t even staying for his daughter’s wedding reception?

Sonja headed off in one direction and her ex in another direction, leaving Jeff in the middle of the room taking a swig of his beer and trying to figure out what had just happened.

Sonja slipped into the kitchen adjacent to the ballroom, clenching her hands. She could tell herself that she wasn’t running away from Jeff and Tom. But she didn’t lie, especially to herself. Not anymore. She should have prepared herself for Tom, known that he would bail on Lauren. He always did. Why would Lauren’s marriage celebration be any different? He hadn’t even RSVPed. Even though Lauren had said his presence didn’t matter, Sonja had broken down and called him a couple of weeks ago and gotten a noncommittal “I’m trying to work it in.” She had every right to be angry with Tom.

Jeff was another story. His ruggedly handsome face and the perplexed look on it when she’d made her getaway flashed in her mind. Her anger had spread over to him for no apparent reason except he was a man.

And a friend. Yes, he was a friend who had proven a great help renovating the manor and with baby Shelley. But she couldn’t let that friendship get in the way of her self sufficiency, of the success of the B&B. She could too easily see falling into a comfortable routine of relying on him, letting their relationship take over her life. Something that after Tom’s abandonment, she’d vowed to never get into again.

“Ms. Cooper, is something wrong?” the banquet coordinator asked.

Sonja swallowed the distaste in her mouth. She was already doing it, letting a man cloud her mind. “No, everything is lovely.” She pasted a smile on her face. “I came in to tell you that and ask you to let the DJ know there won’t be a father-daughter dance. Lauren’s father had to leave.”

“Certainly.”

“Here you are, Mom.” Lauren walked into the kitchen, saving Sonja from any awkwardness about sharing that the father of the bride had left.

“Yes,” Sonja said. “You know how I am about checking all the details. This is my only child’s wedding reception.” She bustled over and adjusted the skirt of Lauren’s dress before the swinging door closed on it.

Her daughter’s eyes twinkled. “And the first event at the Morrison Mansion B&B. It’s okay. Jesse and I have a stake in the success, too.”

Sonja flushed. “Right. End of business talk for the day.”

“Except for wedding business,” Lauren said, turning to the banquet coordinator. “We’re ready for dinner to be served any time now.”

“Everything’s set. I’ll have the servers bring out the salads.”

Sonja held the door for Lauren and then stepped into the ballroom herself.

“I changed the head table seating so that Jeff is beside you, rather than him being on the being on the other side of Jesse,” Lauren said

Sonja released the door and it snapped shut. She’d be fine with Jeff on the other side of Jesse—or on the other side of the room, so she wouldn’t be tempted by her attraction to him. “That’s fine.” It wasn’t as if she couldn’t have a friendly conversation with him.

“And I moved Aunt Sari to the head table on your other side, since she’s the only relative here from our family and doesn’t know anyone she was seated with. I figured we didn’t need a seat there for Dad, so why not.”

“You know he left?”

Lauren nodded.

Sonja touched her daughter’s arm. “I’m sorry about that, hon.”

“It’s no more or less than I expected of him, and you have no reason to apologize.”

“You’re right. Old habits.” And not ones she was about to fall back into.

When they reached the head table, Sonja eyed the three empty seats and the place cards, while her new son-in-law Jesse pulled out Lauren’s chair for her.

Hmm, I could switch my card with Sari’s. Then it would be me, then Sari, then Jeff. Jeff and Sari would get along. And she could avoid any inadvertent physical contact with Jeff during dinner. Staring at the cards, Sonja asked, “Where is Sari?”

“She and Dad went to get some hors d'oeuvres,” Jesse answered.

Sonja glanced at the food table and saw Jeff and Sari heading toward her. He solicitously balanced both of their plates in one hand and gripped Sari’s left elbow while Sari maneuvered her cane with her right hand. Sari had commented this morning how glad she was that her progressing MS symptoms had stayed in remission so she only needed her cane to get around. Sonja’s chest burned and she dropped her head. What was with her? She couldn’t be jealous. She and Sari were more like sisters than cousins. Sari deserved to enjoy herself with Jeff or whoever.

Sonja rearranged the cards so that Jeff was seated between her and Sari and moved her chair to put some space between her and Jeff. During dinner, he platonically divided his attention between her and Sari. Sonja relaxed. She’d let the confrontation with her ex unsettle her. There was nothing between her and Jeff. Sonja’s heart swelled as she watched Lauren and Jesse step out onto the dance floor for the first dance. She hugged her granddaughter Shelley on her lap.

“Now, will the bride’s and groom’s parents join them?”

Sonja stiffened. Lauren hadn’t instructed the DJ to skip that? Her eyes narrowed at the smile her daughter gave her from the dance floor. Or was Lauren matchmaking?

“That’s us.” Jeff stood and reached for the back of her chair.

“I’ll take Shelley,” Sari said as if sensing her reluctance and the excuse on her lips.

Sonja rose as Jeff pulled her chair out. She placed Shelley in Sari’s outstretched hands. It was only a dance.

“Grammy and Papa are going to dance,” Sari said. “We’ll watch them.”

Sonja waited while Shelley grabbed a chocolate from the dish Jeff had moved out of her reach in front of Sari and settled in with no protest.

“Daddy Jesse and Ren dance,” the three-year-old said, pointing at her father and stepmother.

“Yep, we’ll watch them, too.”

Warmth poured through Sonja at the child’s solemn nod. The little darling had adapted surprisingly well to her mother’s death and her abrupt transition to the father she hadn’t known—a father who hadn’t even known she existed.

Jeff took Sonja’s hand to lead her onto the dance floor. The corresponding tingle up her arm had nothing to do with his slightly rough working man’s hand wrapped firmly around hers. No, Shelley leaning against her arm must have made it go to sleep.

“Here they are,” the DJ said. “Let’s have a hand for Sonja Cooper and Jeff Brewster.”

Sonja reached up and placed her left hand on Jeff’s shoulder and he folded his left hand around her right. Lauren had set them up. She snuck a glance at Jeff. A half-smile teased his lips. Or maybe they had set her up. She dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. Jeff was just better at going with the flow than she was.

As the clapping died down, the strains of the new song broke through.

“I’ll Always Love You” by Taylor Dayne. Bet this brings back memories,” the DJ yammered.

It did, and not good ones.

Jeff stiffened.

Maybe not good for him, either.

He tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her closer to him. “We … I danced to this at my wedding.”

His voice was so soft, Sonja wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her or his thoughts had simply escaped him.

Jeff’s heart appeared to still belong to his deceased wife. Sonja relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy dancing in the arms of a handsome man. Any attraction she’d imagined Jeff might have to her was just that—in her imagination. He circled her around, and she let her head rest for a moment on his warm, solid chest. Knowing that Jeff wasn’t looking for anything romantic from her would make it easy for her to keep her distance and quash the silly thoughts and fears she’d had earlier.

Easy once their dance was over, anyway.

Jeff escorted Sonja back to the table and made a beeline for the bar. What he didn’t know about women could fill Indigo Bay. The body-of-water bay. Maybe the Atlantic Ocean. Sweat trickled down his spine as if he’d just finished a marathon, rather than a slow dance. When he reached the bar, he changed directions. Fresh air would do him far more good than the shots of Jameson he’d been contemplating. He ducked out a side door into the summer evening, which wasn’t any cooler than the ballroom, but a lot quieter.

He jammed his fingers through his hair. Either he was crazy, or Sonja was sending him mixed signals that were driving him crazy. He had heard her tell her ex that she never wanted to be dependent on a man again, which had sounded like a keep-out sign to any man within hearing distance. A message that she had no interest in a relationship or dating or whatever it was consenting adults did these days. What did he know? He hadn’t been with anyone but his wife in thirty years.

But, then, he and Sonja had started dancing. He’d caught himself getting lost in the song and memories, pulling Sonja closer before he’d come to his senses. He’d checked himself and started to pull back, only to have her rest her cheek on his chest, lulling him into peaceful enjoyment. When the song had ended, she’d been out of his arms in a flash and headed back to the table. His first thought for avoiding the turmoil he was in was to keep his distance, avoid her as much as possible. Which as in-laws should be doable. Except he and Sonja were jointly caring for little Shelley while Jesse and Lauren were on their four-week honeymoon cruise.

A bolt of lightning streaked across the dusky sky followed by a clap of thunder. He’d better get back inside before the sky opened up on his rented tux.

“Papa, cake!” Shelley shouted when he got within sight of the head table.

He must have missed the cake cutting.

“I got you a piece,” Sari said.

“Thanks.” He took his seat and Shelley scrambled over from Sonja’s lap to his, but not before he caught Sonja’s glare. Was the cake cutting something the groom’s father was supposed to be present for? Or was the glare for Sari making sure he got a slice?

“Frosting.” Shelley dipped her finger in the frosting flower on his cake and stuck it in her mouth.

“Yep.” He kissed the top of his granddaughter’s head, while Sonja gently extracted Shelley’s finger and wiped it and her face with a napkin.

Their gazes connected. He smiled. Sonja frowned. What was a little frosting? Or maybe that wasn’t what had earned him the frown. Jeff concentrated on his cake and his granddaughter, glad that he only had one kid. These family weddings were murder on the nerves.

Jesse and Lauren finished making their rounds in preparation for leaving and returned to the head table. Jeff stood, hoisted Shelley to his hip, and placed his other hand on the back of Sonja’s chair to pull it out for her. Maybe he’d get a point for good manners. The five of them walked out of the ballroom into the hall.

“You guys are all set?” Jesse asked wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist.

“You have our itinerary and how to reach us if you need to?” Lauren asked.

“Yes,” Jeff assured them. “It’s not like we’re novices at this.”

“We’ll Skype when we can,” Lauren said.

“We’ll be fine,” Sonja said.

Jeff rubbed noses with Shelley. Finally, something he and Sonja agreed on.

Jesse held his arms out for his daughter. “Give Daddy and Lauren kisses and hugs. It’s time for us to go on our wedding trip. Remember, you’re going to stay with Grammy and Papa.”

Shelley nodded. “Stay with Grammy and Papa. Jesse Daddy and Ren go bye-bye.”

Jesse and Lauren enveloped the little girl in a three-way hug. When they broke apart, Jesse said, “We could stop by tomorrow morning early, before we have to be at the airport.”

“Two goodbyes may not be a good idea,” Sonja said, stepping forward to give Lauren a farewell hug while Jesse handed Shelley back to Jeff.

“You’re probably right,” Jesse said opening his arms to Sonja’s goodbye hug.

Jeff bounced Shelley and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He wasn’t a hugger. Jesse got that from his mother. “You guys have a great time. Don’t worry about anything.”

Jeff and Sonja and Shelley watched, waving until Jesse and Lauren disappeared into the front hall and out the main door.

“More cake?” Shelley asked pointing over Jeff’s shoulder toward the ballroom.

“Sure, we can go see what we can find,” he answered.

Sonja had opened her mouth at the same time as him and snapped it shut.

Jeff knew as well as Sonja did that Shelley didn’t need more cake. But the goodbyes had gone so well, he didn’t want to upset things over something as small as cake. He and Sonja could have trouble soon enough when Shelley realized that her sleepover with Grammy wasn’t the familiar one night. He was sort of prepared for that with a set of twenty-five blocks he’d made that had pictures of the places Jesse and Lauren would be visiting on the cruise. The blocks fit together into a little house. He’d figured them working on the house every day and talking about what her parents were doing might help and give her a sense of time until they got home.

Sonja had nothing to say on the short walk back to the ballroom, where Jeff wove around the tables with his granddaughter in search of cake, ending at the head table and Sonja

“No cake.” Shelley lifted her hands palms up and shook her head. “Time for stories.”

“Thank you, I see what you were doing now,” Sonja said, her praise warming him more than it should.

“Okay, we’ll go upstairs to Grammy’s and get your jammies on for stories.” Sonja held her arms out for Shelley.

Jeff stifled a sigh. He was more than ready to head down to the beach to his place, the mansion’s former caretaker’s cottage, lose the tux and unwind. The three of them retraced their steps to the stairway, where Sonja started up to her third-floor living area and he started toward the door.

“No, no, no!” Shelley said, straining to reach over the polished oak railing to Jess. “Papa, stories. Papa night-night at Grammy’s”

His gaze locked with Sonja’s and the indecision in her eyes matched his. She pressed her lips together and nodded almost unperceptively at the stairs. He took another step.

“Papa!” Shelley screamed, loud enough for the remaining guests to hear her in the ballroom.

With Jesse, he would have continued down the stairs, feeling he shouldn’t give in to a child’s demands. But this was his granddaughter, and he hadn’t had the greatest relationship with his son until the past few years, after his wife had died. Jeff looked over his shoulder to the little girl’s tear-stained face and Sonja’s weary looking one. He and Sonja were sharing the responsibility for Shelley. He shouldn’t dump it on Sonja and bolt.

“It’s okay, sweetie, Papa is just going downstairs to make sure the front door is locked.” Which he’d do so he wasn’t lying to the kid.

Shelley sniffled. “Okay. Then stories.”

“Definitely.” Jeff caught what he thought was relief in Sonja’s eyes and bounded to the door.

His ascent after locking the door was slower, his feet weighted by a churning in his gut. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been up to Sonja’s flat on the top floor of the mansion before, just the two of them. He’d installed her dishwasher, put in the programmable thermostats, and done other home maintenance. Stayed for lunch a couple of times. But overhearing her talking to her ex at the reception had made everything weird, like he was a guest, not a friend, not family.

He could ignore that, read Shelley a couple of stories, and leave. Of course he could.

You’re bad-ass, Emilia. Keep cool, I chant silently. So what that he’s twice my size.

Yes, barging in when I’d seen a man picking a fight with a woman in the middle of a dark, empty street wasn’t my smartest move. She had a baby in the stroller, and I figured if he wanted somebody’s wallet, I could just give him mine.

The woman quickly left, and I’m now facing him alone. We’re a block away from the YMCA where I teach evening childbirth classes, an area that’s best avoided during the daylight, much less an hour before midnight.

He advances toward me with the crazy gleam on his face. A dim shine from the broken street light briefly illuminates an object in his hand. A knife. “Bad-ass, huh?”

Crap. Crap. Crap. My stupid habit of thinking out loud. I back away until I hit the wall of a crumbling building behind me.

“I’m sorry!” I shrink back as far away from the knife as possible. “I promise to never interfere with your business again! If you want, I can deliver your future babies, at no extra charge! Well, not yours, of course. Your wife’s.”

Shut up. Shut up, what are you saying?

He stares at me like I’ve just offered to pull a baby out of his behind, and I clarify quickly, “Yours and your wife’s. I’m an OB/GYN. I’ve just finished my residency, and I’m fully qualified.”

No effect on his you’re-a-crazy-lady look. I’m dead, all because of my big mouth.

“Listen to me! It was just a mistake, okay? I’ll never pretend to be bad-ass again, since it bothers you so much!”

He roars in laughter. And it’s not a haha-you’re-silly-but-cute kind, but the cackling of a man who has just stopped considering me as his one-minute of entertainment and began getting seriously annoyed. “You’re nuts,” he concludes.

No passing cars. The blinds on the building across the street are drawn. The chances of me making it across the street to the subway station before he smashes my head against the asphalt are slim to none. No escape. This is how many of those accidents shown on New York One Hot Minute happen: a nutty burglar and an even nuttier victim, although cuckoo in a different way, of course. What a terrible time to die. I was just starting to do my own deliveries, and now I’m not going to reap the rewards of the years of studying. I won’t be able to see mothers’ faces when they hold their babies for the very first time. I’ll just bleed to death and never--

The knife drops, sliding down my breast area and falling to the ground with a loud clank. A leathered-glove fist clasps around the man’s hand. My attacker’s body thumps against the asphalt, sent flying by the man in all black who throws a targeted blow at his opponent. The dark-clothed man is smaller in size, but he’s not wasting a single body movement. Every punch seems orchestrated, purposeful. His shoulder blades flex underneath his leather jacket. In a matter of seconds, the man on the ground stops fighting back and tries to cover his face. The man in black settles on top of the other man, squeezing his neck with his elbow.

Why am I sitting like a duck instead of helping my savior? The knife is lying on the ground next to me, and I should try to pass it to the good man, at the very least. He seems to know what he’s doing, with those precise punches…but what if this battle takes a wrong turn and someone gets seriously hurt, all because of me? They’re no longer wrestling, but the weapon might help the man keep the bad guy at bay until police arrives, right?

I pat him on his shoulder and offer him the knife.

He turns, and I meet the most striking blue eyes and the semi-moon of his curved lips. Dark scruff accentuates his powerful lower jaw with a tiny crater in the middle. And, holy crap, you know those cop shows where the heroes engage in fistfights and come out looking all put-together and tough, all without as much as breaking a sweat? Well, this man is panting a little, but apart from that and a little bit of sweat gathered on his forehead, I can’t tell he’s not on the set of that cable TV production with a few makeup artists who have just finished turning him into a swoon-worthy prime-time celebrity.

“You want me to kill him?” he asks.

“Oh, God, no! Don’t kill him!” He’s joking, right? He must be.

“You sure?” he whispers in a deep timbre that seems to shake some nerve endings in my body. Even his voice is out of this world, with a little bit of Clark Gable going on for him.

I drop the knife…away from both of them. “Please, let police deal with him.”

“I’ll never touch her again. She’s too bad-ass for me!” the thug interjects quickly.

“Bad-ass?” My white knight’s lips spread in a wider grin. A light twinkle plays in his eyes—a trace of humor on an otherwise rough canvas with a scar that runs down his left cheek all the way to his neck.

The screeching of police sirens sounds, and soon cops run toward us, their guns drawn.

“Freeze! Police!”

Some of them carry serious weapons, revolvers or whatever those long firearms are. Oh God. What if they make a mistake? I dash between the officers and the men on the ground. “Wait! Don’t shoot!”

“Ma’am, we need you to step back!”

“Don’t fire! Please don’t hurt the wrong man!”

“Ma’am, please!”

They hustle me out of the way as one of them pats my arm and informs me something about police never shooting those who aren’t fighting back. He may have said more, but at this moment the man in black gives me a small nod, and I stop paying full attention to the cops. My rescuer gets up and passes the bad man to the cops, all the while glancing at me sideways. He shows the cops his ID, and they exchange brief muted conversation, during which I’m able to gather that the woman with the baby called the cops and she will press charges. I reach into my purse to find my own identification just as I hear the officers say they won’t need my testimony.

In under a minute, the bad man is cuffed and hauled into the police car. Another hushed whisper between my protector and the cops, and they give me a friendly wave and walk away. “Have a good evening, ma’am. We trust you’ll get home safe.”

As soon as we’re alone, the man strolls toward me. It’s not a walk, mind you. It’s a swagger that’s only possible after you’ve just overpowered a huge bully without breaking a sweat. “I can’t believe you actually stepped in between me and their guns,” he says.

“They could’ve shot accidentally, and after you so bravely came to my rescue, that’s the least I could do. I mean, I didn’t think they would shoot a woman, so I’m not a hero by any means…not like you.”

“It was an extremely reckless move. Do you always jump head first into danger?”

“Oh, no.” Well, okay. I’ve just tried to meddle with a street thug’s business, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat if that meant protecting a mother and her baby. But I don’t do this sort of thing every day. Or ever. I’m just a doctor. I read books. Watch classic movies. I was thinking about picking up crochet, but I’ve been working late hours and could never make it to the weekly Embroidery Club. “You could say that was an idiosyncratic occurrence. I prefer to stay away from weapons of all sorts.”

“Good.” He smiles at me. “I’m Kai. Are you okay? You have a little bit of blood on your chin.” He leans down and examines a tiny scratch on my face. He smells like an expensive aftershave, much better than should be allowed after you’ve wrestled on the sidewalk. “My car is just around the corner. Let me drive you home. You shouldn’t be here alone this late at night.”

“Oh, you don’t want to drive me home. I live really far out in Jersey. I was about to take the subway to the bus station.”

“At this hour?”

“I’ve done this forever. It lets me catch up on my reading.”

“Not tonight. Come. I really don’t mind.” He offers me his hand.

Can I get into the car with a total stranger? What about the rules, the universal Do Not Do list your mom has taught you when you were little? But tonight he’s my hero, so if you think about it—what the heck. I deserve this one leniency.

I place my palm into his. Our skin touches. You know that tingly feeling when you brush against a man, and it’s all quiver and butterflies? I’ve never felt this before. Until now.

He places his other hand on the small of my back, directing me toward his car, and I follow. What’s more? I’ve already made up my mind. If he asks for my phone number, I’m going to give it to him.

Don’t judge. I’ve just narrowly escaped death.

Title: Sin & Discipline 

Author: Lily White 

Genre: New Adult Romance 

Release Date: April 24, 2019 

Cover Designer: Lily White 

Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC. 

Lennon Carter first saw my face with his hand around my throat. Shock widened his eyes, starbursts of anger for what I'd done. That moment should have been the last of us; our beginning and end. Fate, it seems, had other plans. A dedicated musician, Lennon would become my mentor, my shadow, my protector and nightmare. We were two discordant notes that somehow blended with perfect harmony. Challenged to become a pianist as talented as him, I became Lennon's SIN, while he became my DISCIPLINE

Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Lily White is a dark writer who likes to dabble on the taboo side of eroticism. She is most known for her Masters Series, Target This, Wishing Well, and Asylum. When she isn't writing as Lily White you can find other books by her under M.S. Willis where she has penned the Control Series, the Estate Series, and Because of Ellison (contemporary romance). Lily enjoys stretching her writing muscles by continuing to challenge herself with each book she publishes.

June's Double Rainbow

by Cheryl Holloway

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

When love and monogamy fail…Her fiancé breaks off the engagement.

At first, June is stunned, but then, she is determined to move on to better things…like an unplanned trip to Paris for her job—where she falls deeply in love with a man from another part of the world. He wines and dines June; sweeps her off her feet; and ultimately, wins her heart. Their short romance echoes an endearing love. When she returns to the US, he calls her faithfully every day. Then suddenly, no call…

Can their love survive on different continents?

"An engaging story with beautiful imagery!"

In this heartwarming romance, June learns to embrace each challenge and wait for a transformation in her life.

This beautifully written romance is complete escapism. Each of the characters has been well developed, considering the length of the story, and the dialogue revealed a great deal about their personalities. ~ Lesley Jones for READERS FAVORITE

A Quick Romantic Read…This is a nice story for someone looking for love. Everything happens for a reason. Love comes when you least expect it. ~G. Littlejohn for Philadelphia Publishing House 

Readers, this is a quick read; yet, an epic romance. If you’re a fan of Debbie Macomber, you’ll soon be a fan of Cheryl Holloway!

**Get it FREE!!**

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The Proposal: A Leap of Faith

by Cheryl Holloway

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

Cheryl Holloway’s knack of presenting an in-depth love story is remarkable. The detail in each page enabled me to connect with the characters like I was holding Carol’s hand each step of the way. –5 Star Readers’ Favorite

If you love contemporary romance with real-life events…

Carol and Marvin love each other and have dated off and on for over ten years; however…Carol becomes jaded about the relationship when Marvin won’t ask her to marry him. Marvin's commitment to the relationship never waivers despite being afraid to commit to marriage. Finally, he wants to move their relationship to the next level—on Valentine’s Day. After a heartbreaking event and crying for days, Carol is ready and at last she thinks he is, too. Will he ask her to marry him or does he have something else on the agenda? Will commitment-phobic Marvin take the plunge…

Smart and sophisticated, with a plot twist that will give the reader a jolt!

Similar to books written by Shirley Wine and Becky Wade.

Cheryl Holloway’s The Proposal: A Leap of Faith is inspired by a real-life women and real-life events.

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Loves Ride

The Struggle Book 1

by Cheryl Holloway

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

Love makes the ride worthwhile…or does it?

Bob is ready to take the next step in his relationship, and he wants to marry Ava, the woman of his dreams. He’s been secretly saving up money for the “special” ring that she wants. To quicken the process, he gets a part-time job as a Ryde driver, but…Bob stumbles upon Ava’s secret. The struggle begins.

Can their relationship withstand secrets and cheating?

Love’s Ride is a literary roller-coaster ride that will make you happy, scared, excited, angry, hopeful, and more—not necessarily in that order.

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Cheryl Holloway is a contemporary romance author, journalist and award-winning editor. She has eBooks, The Cougar Tales Series, Book 1: Father and Son; Book 2: The Italian Basketball Player; Book 3: Jamaican Love; Cougar Tales Box Set (Books 1-3); The Bane Bath Salts, (Teen Drug Prevention); The Proposal: A Leap of Faith; A Sisterhood of Women Living Life: A Short Story Collection Book 1; and June's Double Rainbow available on Amazon.com and Smashwords.com. Cheryl's blog is where an author writes information about writing, literary events, books, and her writing journey. She pays-it-forward to other authors with Guest Author Interviews. You can visit the blog at: www.CherylHolloway.net/blog

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

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