I am a Christian, a retired teacher, a mother and a grandmother. I love to read and I love the Lord Jesus Christ! Unless otherwise specified ,all visual illustrations are from the YOU VERSION APP of the Bible.
Title: Midnight Offensive Series: Toxic Truths #1 Author: Elle E. Kay Publisher: Faith Writes Publishing Release Date: May 14, 2025 Genre: Christian Romantic Suspense / Thriller
Former Navy SEAL Craig Malone is now a Tactical Operations Leader for Homeland Security with a critical mission: protect the only antidote to Viper-X, a stolen bioweapon about to be sold to the highest bidder. But the mission becomes dangerously personal when the investigation leads him to Sadie Kline—an emergency room nurse and his best friend’s little sister. He’s always kept his distance, but now her life is on the line.
As a ruthless enemy closes in, kidnapping their loved ones and setting deadly traps, Craig must protect the woman he can’t get out of his head while stopping a catastrophic attack.
Duty and a decade of unspoken feelings collide in a race to stop a traitor before it’s too late.
This is my first book by Elle E. Kay and I am a definite new fan, hooked by her sharp writing, constant action and satisfying romance that was enchanting and believable. Sadie is an ER nurse caught in the crossfire with a bio-weapon at stake. Her former neighbor is the Homeland Security agent in charge of safeguarding the nation from the bio-weapon and protecting the man who is developing the antidote. Craig and Sadie together make a formidable team to take on the saboteurs, but the head-spinning twists keep coming at them fast and furiously. From one place to another, Sadie and Craig seem to be chasing down leads while danger is chasing them and is right behind them at all times, sometimes catching up with them at unexpected times. This is a gripping story that is addictive and fun to read and try to piece the clues together. Infused with spiritual truth and romance simmering under the surface, this book grabbed hold of my imagination and would not let go. I was captivated by the courage of the characters who were the good guys and thought that all of the characters were realistic, original and dynamic. The plot flowed well from beginning to end in this edgy, page-turner that kept me on the edge of my seat and fascinated with the twists. It is a well-crafted book that hit all of the high notes for me in suspense, drama and romance. Disclaimer: I voluntarily received a complimentary copy of this book. I was not required to write a positives review, and all opinions expressed are my own.
Elle E. Kay is an Angel Award–winning Christian author known for her gripping suspense and engaging romance. She lives on a hobby farm in Central Pennsylvania near Red Rock Mountain with her husband, three dogs, and a variety of farm animals. A devoted follower of Christ, Elle is active in her church’s youth ministry and shares her love of Jesus through music.
Since her debut novel Shadowing Stella released in 2016, Elle has written over two dozen books spanning romantic suspense, contemporary romance, historical fiction, and children’s literature. Her award-winning Pennsylvania Parks series blends faith and thrills against the backdrop of the state’s stunning natural landscapes. She’s also the author of the Endless Mountain series and a contributor to several multi-author projects, including the Lawkeeper, Blushing Brides, Heroes of Freedom Ridge, and Christmas in Redemption Ridge collections.
Elle writes children’s books under the pen name Ellie Mae Kay and connects with readers through her blog, newsletters, and social media. Whether writing fiction, singing in church, or caring for her animals, Elle lives out her faith—and crafts stories where love, hope, and perseverance prevail.
Connect with Elle by visiting elleekay.com to follow her on social media and subscribe to email newsletter updates.
(1) winner will receive a Romantic Suspense Prize Pack which features 5 of Elle’s most recent romantic suspense releases, including Midnight Offensive, along with a tote bag and swag!
Full tour schedule linked below. The giveaway begins at midnight June 30, 2025 and will last through 11:59 PM EST on July 7, 2025. Winners will be notified within 2 weeks of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or risk forfeiture of prize. US only. Void where prohibited by law or logistics.
The Silent Patient meets Rebecca in this twisty debut about the mysterious death of a woman with congenital analgesia, a rare condition where she can’t feel any pain – and an obsessive journalist who will stop at nothing to uncover her most dangerous secrets. Meet Eva, who can’t feel pain, and Anna, who can’t escape it. Everyone has heard about the case of Eva Reid. Ever since she was born, she’s been immune to physical pain – she can get a paper cut, break a limb, and even give birth without feeling a single thing. Her rare condition has long-captivated reporters and researchers – including Dr. Nate Reid, Eva’s husband and acclaimed scientist renowned for his work in The Pain Laboratory. Also among them is Anna Tate, a ruthless journalist with a dark past of her own. When Eva is suddenly found dead inside her home, it raises a flurry of questions around the last night of her life – and who might’ve been involved. Anna finds herself growing increasingly obsessed with Eva’s case: her cloistered, painless existence, her promising career as a psychotherapist, and especially her toxic relationship to Dr. Reid, whom she met and married as his former patient. But what other secrets could they be hiding?
When Dr. Reid embarks on the process of writing a book about Eva, Anna makes sure she’s first in line to work on the project with him. As she slowly inserts herself into their home and seeks to uncover what’s fact and what’s fiction, shocking discoveries await her – and not everyone may come out unscathed…
My Thoughts
What a chillingly delightful novel! The woman married to the pain specialist, Eva, is found dead under some rather mysterious circumstances. But what a complication! She cannot feel pain since she suffers from a congenital condition that precludes her from doing so. When Anna, a ghostwriter, enters the scenario, she is fascinated with Eva’s story and Dr. Reid’s obsession with studying pain. Anna is determined to find out what really happened the night that Eva died, but her quest is filled with some unexpected twists and turns as well as danger. This is a moderately paced novel, perfectly paced for the action in the story. The characters are compelling and dynamic and the research that is included in the story is absolutely riveting. I had trouble putting down the book, especially once Anna started her independent investigation. This book proves that one should not take anything for granted and that not all narrators can be trusted. With a web of deceit built into the story as well as a cleverly executed page-turner with some head-spinning twists, this novel captivated my attention and intrigued me with its profound revelations about pain and how it can be manipulated. Edgy and satisfying novel that is terrifyingly brilliant! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review, and all opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16th CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Note that this is contemporary fiction and I rate it PG-15
About the Author
Emma Cook has been an editor at the Guardian for 16 years, commissioning on Guardian Weekend, editing her own section Do Something and now assistant editor and travel editor on the Observer magazine. She has written for a range of titles including the Guardian, the Independent, the Times, the Daily Telegraph, ES Magazine, Elle and Psychologies. She is an alumna of the Faber Academy’s six-month Writing A Novel course, and You Can’t Hurt Me is her debut novel.
On Sale: October 1, 2024 ISBN: 9781335006301 Canary Street Press
For fans of Mary Kay Andrews, Jenny Bayliss, and Julie Murphy, #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery’s witty and heartfelt story of a mother who couldn’t love her kids more but hopes that, just this once, they please don’t come home for Christmas. Don’t come home for Christmas. . . Julie Parker’s kids are her greatest gift. Still, she’s low-key joyful that they want to skip a big Christmas this year. Her son Nick is romancing his bride Blair with a belated honeymoon, while her daughter Dana plans to purge every reminder of the guy who dumped her. Again. Julie’s excited to hole up for the holiday with Heath, the (much) younger man she’s secretly dating. Her plans go from cozy to chaotic when her kids change their minds and plead for Christmas at the family cabin in memory of their beloved father. Julie can’t refuse, despite being nervous about the over-the-top traditions her grown children still enjoy—and anxious about how they’ll feel when they
meet Heath and realize she’s been lying to them for months. She has justified her deception by insisting to herself that they’re not serious, despite the spark she feels whenever he’s near. As the guest list grows in surprising ways, from Blair’s estranged mom to Heath’s beautiful young ex, Julie’s secret is one of many to be unwrapped. Over this complicated and very funny Christmas, she’ll discover that more really is merrier, and that a big, happy family can become bigger and happier, if they all let go of old hurts and open their hearts to love.
My Thoughts
The latest book by Mallery is a romp through a snow-covered field of happiness and fun. I loved this story so much that I didn’t want it to ever end. The characters are realistic and dynamic. I especially liked and identified with the character of Julie, a woman who wants to spend time with her new younger boyfriend at Christmas, but without her adult children finding out. Her plans don’t work as she wanted because Dana and Nick, her children, are sentimental about this being the first Christmas without their dad, so they want to spend Christmas at the family cabin. A few minor changes in Julie’s plans become a big deal when Nick’s mother-n-law decides to come along, as well as Julie’s employee Huxley, Uncle Paul and her boyfriend and his children. What was supposed to be an intimate Christmas with just Heath and Julie becomes a family and friends reunion of sorts, and of the most hilarious kind. I felt a whole gamut of emotions as I read this great, multi-layered story. I was empathetic towards Gwen, Nick’s MIL, because she has difficulty relating to her estranged daughter Blair and Christmas just doesn’t seem the right time to set things right. I felt sad for Dana who has tried over and over again to establish a relationship with Axel, but he keeps breaking up with her and destroying her emotionally. I was thrilled with Julie and Heath’s relationship because he is the perfect boyfriend, attentive, loving and swoonworthy, too. I cried, I laughed out loud, and even gasped at some of the antics of the characters. This is a perfect read for the holidays because no matter how many people you invite to your house, I don’t think it’s possible to have as much fun as Susan Mallery’s big, happy family!
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author. I was not required to write a positive review, and all opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16th CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
This book is contemporary fiction and I would rate it PG.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—family, friendship and romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations,” and readers seem to agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live. Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She’s passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the Ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom. Social Links: Author Website: https://www.susanmallery.com/ X/Twitter: https://twitter.com/susanmallery Instagram: https://instagram.com/susanmallery Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/susanmallery Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanMallery TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@susanmallery
EXCERPT
one — “But you’re a woman.” “Does that matter?” “I don’t know. Do you know how to tow cars?” Julie Parker did her best not to roll her eyes. At her age, it was a much less charming look. But still. “Your car is fine,” she said, trying for patience, but failing to hit the mark and landing on snark instead. “You ran out of gas on the 405 freeway. If we should be questioning someone’s ability to exist in the world, we should probably start with you.” “Hey!” The young twentysomething finally looked up from her phone and frowned. “You have attitude.” “I do, and a busy schedule. Do you want help or not? It’s twenty bucks for the gas and seventy-five for the service visit.” “Ninety-five dollars for a few gallons of gas? That’s robbery.” “It’s also the price you were quoted when you called the company.” Cars and trucks sped by on the busy freeway. It was a cold, rainy December afternoon, and Julie had a date with her very handsome boyfriend in a few hours. The last thing she wanted to do was waste time arguing with someone younger than either of her adult children. The young woman shook her head. “I’m not paying that.” “Fine by me.” Julie started back to her tow truck, gas can in hand. The woman hurried after her. “Wait. I’ll do it. So ninety-five dollars?” “Yes. Tax is included in the price.” She fished her credit card reader from her overalls. “You pay, I pour.” The woman gave her the stink eye, then reluctantly pushed a credit card into the machine. Less than five minutes later Julie had her money and the unhappy motorist had enough gas to get her on her way. “Is this your car?” Julie asked, telling herself to walk away but unable to do so. “It’s my boyfriend’s. He said I could drive it.” Julie pointed to the instrument panel. “You probably always know how much gas is in your own car. It’s something we keep track of without thinking. But when you get into someone else’s car, check the gauge. When the weather’s like this, you can wait a long time for a tow truck, and the side of the freeway is a dangerous place.” “Oh.” The other woman looked at the rushing traffic, then slid into the driver’s seat. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” “Have a nice day,” Julie called as the twentysomething pulled away, sending gravel up in a spray. She made her way to her truck, telling herself she’d gotten her good deed for the day out of the way early, so that was something. Thirty minutes after that, she pulled into the tow yard, driving under the big Parker Towing sign her grandfather had installed nearly fifty years ago. She parked the small tow truck she’d used for the call, then ran through the pelting rain to the safety of the main office where Mariah Carey’s version of “Santa Baby” played over the
speakers. She hung the keys on the pegboard in the locking cabinet and put the credit card reader on the docking station where it would automatically download and tally the transaction. Huxley, the office manager slash driver whisperer slash mother hen, looked at her over his reading glasses. “Why do you do that? Why do you take a call like that? I go to lunch and when I come back, you’ve taken one of the trucks and gone out to face God knows what in this kind of weather. I don’t like to worry. When I worry, I get hives, and then I have to go see the doctor and that costs our insurance company money. Do you want the premiums to go up? I don’t think so. But you do this. Every six months or so you think it’s twenty-five years ago and you’re still driving a damned tow truck. You’re the boss. You’ve been the boss for a long time. It’d be really nice if you remembered it.” “I was delivering gas, not doing a repo. I was fine. Besides, it’s fun to take one of the trucks out every now and then. I want to keep my hand in. The men need to respect me, and for that I need to prove my skills.” “A chicken could drag gas out to some fool who forgot to fill up his car. What skills are you going on about?” She laughed. “I had a good time. I’m allowed. Leave me alone.” “I can feel those hives popping out all over my body,” he said as she started for her office. “And Axel’s waiting to talk to you. He has today’s list.” Julie’s good mood instantly faded. She walked purposefully toward her office, not breaking stride as she crossed the threshold and headed for her desk. She ignored the tall, fit man standing by the window, a folder in his hands. As she took her seat, she allowed her gaze to linger on the baseball bat leaning casually against the corner. From the time she was eight until she was thirteen, her father had insisted on weekly batting practice at the cages up by the park. After all those sessions, she had a hell of a swing, and she wasn’t afraid to connect with a ball or anything else that needed hitting. Not that she went around beating people with a baseball bat, but it had been a deterrence on more than one call and keeping it nearby in certain situations gave her a sense of security. The world was a better place, at least from her perspective, when she knew she could handle whatever came at her. She never asked for help—instead she took care of the problem herself. She drew in a breath, then raised her head and looked at the man watching her. “Axel.” He moved toward her desk and set down the folder. “I have five for tonight.” “Five’s a lot.” She glanced at the papers. Sure enough, there were five cars the bank wanted back. They were all high end, late models with appropriately high repo fees. After taking 25 percent off the top to cover expenses, including the lookout car, the company and repo guy split the fee fifty-fifty. It was dangerous work for not much reward and a part of the business she’d never understood. But repo guys lived on adrenaline, and she supposed someone had to go out and take back that which had not been paid for. She closed the folder and pushed it toward him. “Try not to get shot.” Axel flashed her a smile. “Me getting shot would solve a lot of your problems.” “Why would you say that? You’re my repo guy. I have no interest in finding another one.” “You’re still mad at me. Any chance you could see your way past that?”
Mad didn’t come close to describing what she was feeling, she thought grimly, taking in his handsome face and dark eyes. He was the kind of man women noticed. A little dangerous, a little sexy, a lot of trouble. “How long did you go out with my daughter?” His smile faded and he took a step back. “About two years.” “How many times did she foolishly let you back in her life so you could break her heart yet again?” His eyes became unreadable. “Three.” “My count is four, but I’m not sure that matters. I’ll see my way past what you did to her when I’m good and ready. I’m thinking about thirty years, give or take.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t apologize to me. I only hate you by association. And if you really care about her, then stop screwing with her life. Leave her alone.” “I’m trying.” “Try harder.” “The heart wants what the heart wants.” “I’m pretty sure your heart isn’t the body part creating all the trouble.” He looked at her. “You want me to quit?” Some days she did, mostly when she was holding Dana as her daughter cried because Axel had once again dumped her. Because he’d been right—when it came to him, Dana’s heart did want what it wanted and, unfortunately, that was him. But on the rest of the days, she liked having Axel around. He was dependable, he understood the business and he had a habit of taking new hires under his wing, so to speak, and teaching them the tricks of the trade. “You’re good at what you do,” Julie said reluctantly, staring out the window. “Stay away from her and we’ll be fine.” “You’re a good mom.” Words that should have pleased her but instead sent a quiver of guilt trickling through her. While she usually fell firmly in the “good mother” category, lately she’d been keeping secrets. Well, one secret. One big, tall, boyfriend-size secret. At some point she was going to have to come clean about him, just not today, she thought. It was three weeks until Christmas. Her kids had plans that didn’t include her, Heath— the boyfriend, though she didn’t say that word aloud—didn’t have his kids for the holidays, so the two of them were going to hole up at her place and enjoy a little one-on-one time with nowhere else to be. She honestly couldn’t wait. She carefully put the happy image out of her head, then returned her attention to Axel. “Go get the cars,” she told him. “The weather’s going to get worse. Remember that and don’t try any fancy moves. Those big trucks you’re driving belong to me.” The smile returned. “Yes, ma’am.” He took the paperwork and left. When Julie was sure he was out of earshot, she murmured, “And don’t get dead.” Because while she was pissed as hell at Axel, she wasn’t heartless. Besides, except for when he crapped on her daughter, he was a good guy and secretly she liked him. Well, at least when it came to Parker Towing. As for Dana and her devotion to the man, well, her daughter was thirty-one years old. At some point she was going to have to figure out how to move on. Because that was how life worked. You tried something and if it didn’t go well, you moved on. Julie’s father had taught her that, along with how to swing a bat, and she’d learned both lessons very, very well.
Helping with youth wrangler camp is how Kate Spencer is atoning for her past. But now she and ranch manager Rand Walkins are trapped in the Superstition Mountains with two girls as illegal miners hunt them down. Rand has every reason not to trust Kate, much less forgive her. But working together is the only way they’ll escape from the danger that threatens them all…
My Thoughts
A plot that includes a ranch with the purpose to help kids adjust to their troubled lives enticed me to read this book and I’m so glad that I had that opportunity! The story is centered around ranch hands who have a past history together and really need to walk the road to forgiveness. Rand Walkins is a bitter young man who lost his chance to be a rodeo star because of a careless choice by new employee Kate Spencer. The two of them are characterized perfectly, a little brittle and wary and not ready to even talk to each other. The kids in the group are typical teens, determined to do their own thing and not caring that others share in their consequences. The entire story was told realistically, with a lot of details about surviving in brutal weather conditions in the wilderness. The story was fast-paced as the characters went from one dangerous situation to the next and had to cooperate together in order to survive the storms and the villains. I enjoyed the romance but the adventure kept me engaged in the story and the faith element was an added bonus. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the Just Reads Publicity Tour. I was not required to write a positive review, and all opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
CATHY MCDAVID wrote her first book at sixteen. The self-illustrated children’s story featured a young girl whose lack of responsibility nearly resulted in the demise of her pet fish. It’s quite possible the book was an autobiography, but Cathy’s not telling. She wrote her second book, and first romance, at nineteen with the help of a portable Smith Corona typewriter. One never knows how the unrequited crush on a college professor will affect their eventual career. These days, with over 57 titles and 1.6 million books in print, she still incorporates a little of her own life in each story. A lover of all things western and former avid horsewoman, her stories include riding, ranching, and rodeo because, well, who doesn’t enjoy a good cowboy romance? Mother of grown twins and married to her own real-life sweetheart, Cathy is living her dream penning heart-stopping suspense thrillers and heart-touching family dramas for Harlequin. Connect with Cathy by visitingcathymcdavid.com to follow her on social media and sign up for email updates.
Tour Giveaway
(2) winners will win a print copy of both Blizzard Refuge and Her Surprise Cowboy Groom, a $5 Starbucks gift card and a cowboy coffee mug!
Full tour schedule linked below. The giveaway begins at midnight October 31, 2023 and will last through 11:59 PM EST on November 7, 2023. Winner will be notified within 2 weeks of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or risk forfeiture of prize. US only. Void where prohibited by law or logistics.
Don’t miss this brand-new romance in New York Times bestselling author Lee Tobin McClain’s Hometown Brothers miniseries!
Running a bookstore on a quaint Chesapeake island is exactly the life Deena Clark would have chosen for herself. But helping billionaire businessman Luis Dominguez figure out fatherhood is part of the package. Can bonding over books and one little girl help them open their hearts to each other?
My Review:
The two storylines in this book mesh perfectly and create a wholesome and unique story about starting over and building a new life. Deena Clark has the task of caring for her best friend’s toddler daughter when Tammalee dies unexpectedly. She seeks the help of billionaire entrepreneur Luis Dominguez, a self-made man who also happens to be the baby’s father. Luis has the brilliant idea to open a bookshop on Teaberry Island and to put Deena in charge of it. Thus, she becomes the baby’s caregiver and a shop manager at the same time, changing all that is familiar to her for a totally new life. The second story centers around an older woman named Carol who loses her tutoring job and is at a loss as to where to turn for new employment at her age. She goes to the family home on the island and expects to open her grandfather’s old bookstore, only to find that Luis has purchased it already. Thus, the two plot lines intersect beautifully. I must say that at first I didn’t really like Carol because she seemed manipulative and too needy. But as the story progressed and I got to know her better, I did enjoy her flaws as well as her strengths. The romance is a central part of the story, too, and although it is totally predictable, there are a few surprises along the way that made it entertaining and a fun read. With dynamic characters who grow along with the story and a plot that moves along at a good clip, this was an enjoyable and quick read that I can highly recommend. It warmed my heart that each character discovered their place in the world and how they could support each other through their many challenges. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Rated PG Lee Tobin McClain is the bestselling author of more than thirty emotional, small-town romances described by Publishers’ Weekly as enthralling, intense, and heartfelt. A dog lover and proud mom, she often includes kids and animals in her books. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking with her goofy goldendoodle, chatting online with her writer friends, and admiring her daughter’s mastery of the latest TikTok dances. Learn more at www.leetobinmcclain.com. Social Links: Author Website Twitter: @LeeTobinMcClain Facebook: @Lee Tobin McClain Goodreads
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
“Have you ever considered slowing down?” The doctor’s words were as out of place as his white coat in Luis Dominguez’s busy corporate office. Mergers and acquisitions were what they did here, and at a fast pace. No one slowed down, ever. “What are you trying to tell me, Doc?” Luis attempted to ignore the text messages that kept pinging into his phone. “I’m only twenty-eight. I can’t have something wrong with me.” Dr. Henry fastened the blood pressure cuff on his arm. “My understanding is that you got dizzy at a board meeting. And that you live on coffee and nachos.” He tightened the cuff, studied the numbers and frowned. “It’s 130/90. That’s concerning. Family history of heart or kidney disease?” “I don’t know.” Luis didn’t want to go into his family medical history, or lack of one, in the middle of a regular work week in mid-April. “I’ll try to take it easier. Eat better.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true, but he needed to get on with his day. “I hope you will. Your board members are worried. Apparently, you’re indispensable.” The man patted Luis’s shoulder. “I’ll see you next week. We’ll need to talk about medication, unless I see significant improvement.”
“You’ll see it,” Luis promised. Ever the overachiever. He was a bit touched that his board of directors was worried enough about his health to set up weekly inoffice checkups. He’d built a life where no one had to worry about him, and he didn’t have to worry about anyone else. That was how he wanted it, but every now and then, it was good to know someone cared. He went to the door and gestured for his assistant, Gunther, to come in. “Everything ready for today’s presentation?” “Slides are all cued up and people are arriving.” Adrenaline surged. “Good.” The doctor clicked his medical bag closed. “How about getting a hobby? Starting a family? Being married is good for your health, you know.” “Not gonna happen.” Luis had already made peace with his single status, mostly. He was no good at forming and maintaining relationships. Didn’t want the responsibility. Didn’t want to fail at the responsibility, the way his parents had. Plenty of women were up for a no-strings fling with a millionaire. The trouble was, that lifestyle got old fast. “Come on,” he said to Gunther, heading for the door. “Let’s start the party.” The offices of Dominguez Enterprises buzzed with energy, people leaning over computers, the elevator pinging, voices speaking rapidly into phones. This was Luis’s hobby. This was his family. He was on track to reach his financial goals by age forty, but his lifestyle didn’t leave room for coaching Little League or cutting the grass.
“Excuse me, Mr. Dominguez?” A gorgeous blonde woman came out of the reception area and intercepted him. She was holding a toddler dressed in pink, a bow in her dark curls. Cute. Luis liked babies. He reached out and tickled the little one’s chin, clicking his tongue, and the child giggled. “Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?” the woman asked. He refocused on the blonde. “Not now. Make an appointment with Mrs. Jackson, there at the desk.” He gestured toward her then headed into the conference room, smiling at the sight of the suit-clad men and women around the table. Men and women from whom he’d soon make a bundle of money. Fairly and legally, of course. The small tech firm that was being acquired by the larger one would get a boost of capital and be able to keep all its employees on payroll, and the bigger firm would benefit from the diversification. Ideally they’d all leave as happy as he was. In fact, two hours later they did leave happy. Everyone shaking hands, his own people congratulating him and him thanking them for their hard work. Who’d have ever thought that a kid from his background would end up making deals with some of the most important businesspeople in Washington, DC? Then again, maybe his career was at least a little predictable. As a young teenager, he’d borrowed a few bucks from a friend and bought a case of high-caffeine soda, then sold it at a markup on test days. With the profit, he’d bought two more cases and expanded his business from the middle school to the high school. Of course, he’d had to skip class to do that.
“He’s not the brightest kid, but he sure does have the Midas touch,” the teacher who’d caught him had said to his foster mom. And Luis had done his best to make the most of whatever talents and abilities he had. Now, as he walked out of the conference room, the woman who’d approached him before came toward him, this time accompanied by Mrs. Jackson. The woman looked a little disheveled, blowing the blond hair off her face as she shifted the now-sleeping toddler in her arms. She was still pretty, though. Maybe even prettier with her face flushed and her hair loose. “I’m sorry, Luis,” Mrs. Jackson said. “She wouldn’t leave.” “I really need to speak with you.” The woman’s voice was low, but determined. There was a sexy rasp to it. He’d have blown her off if it weren’t for those stunning slate-colored eyes that seemed to hold all kinds of secrets. But it had been weeks since he’d had a date, and he was feeling celebratory. “Come on back, I have a few minutes,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway that led to his office. He usually avoided women with kids. He definitely avoided women with husbands, so he stepped to the side and checked out her left hand as she passed him. No ring. She wore a dark skirt and vest and a white shirt, and there was a slight swing to her walk. He reached the office just behind her and held open the door. “Go ahead, have a seat by the window.” He kept his voice low so as not to awaken the child. He nodded an it’s okay to Mrs. Jackson, who tended to be a mother hen, and followed the woman inside. He knelt down by the minifridge. “Something to drink? I have water, soda. Juice if the kiddo wakes up.” Outside, he could hear people calling goodbyes to each other. He’d given everyone the rest of the day off. They worked late for him plenty of times, so he liked to offer perks when the occasion merited it. “Water, please.” The woman spoke quietly, too, but the child murmured in her arms and opened her eyes. “Juice as well, if you don’t mind.” He stood, holding two bottles of water in one hand and a juice in the other. He twisted the top off a water bottle and handed it to her, then did the same for the apple juice. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he studied the woman. “So what can I do for you?” She sipped water, cradling the child in one arm, and then looked at Luis with a level stare. “I’d like for you to meet someone.” “Tell me more.” So she did have an agenda. Probably some project she wanted him to finance. Bringing her kid was a rookie mistake, but because she looked so serious and earnest, he’d let her down easy. She nodded down at the baby. “This is Willow,” she said. “Hi, Willow.” Luis smiled at the little one, then sipped water. The woman’s skirt slid up above her knees in the low chair. He lifted his eyes to her face. “What’s your name?” “I’m Deena Clark,” she said. “But Willow is the important one.” The baby held a small rubber doll out to Luis. He took it from her, hid it behind his back and then held it out again, jiggling it, making her laugh. “Why is Willow the important one?” he asked. “Because,” the woman said, “she’s your daughter.” There. She’d gotten it out. Deena blew her hair out of her eyes and made soothing circles on Willow’s back, holding the apple juice for her to sip. She inhaled Willow’s baby-powder scent and patted her chubby leg. She loved the two-year-old fiercely, and she hadn’t wanted to give up even the modicum of control that would come with rich Mr. Dominguez knowing he was the child’s father. But she was pretty sure Luis wouldn’t want much, if anything, to do with the baby. He was too wealthy and entitled. His wealth would make it easy for him to pay some child support, though. And that would allow Deena to stop working so much, to spend more time at home and to get Willow the services she needed. Maybe this would go okay. Luis Dominguez wasn’t quite what she’d expected. True, he’d made her wait for two hours, but then again, she’d arrived unannounced. She’d heard him saying nice things to his workers, and he’d gotten her and Willow something to drink. So maybe he wasn’t as uncaring as Willow’s mommy had believed. He was hot, too. Deena didn’t do relationships, but if she did…well. Curly black hair, light brown skin, an athletic body and a dimple in his cheek when he smiled… No wonder Tammalee had gone for him. He took a sip of water, studying her. “I wouldn’t have invited you in if I’d known you were one of those women.” “What women?” She bounced the baby doll in front of Willow, who laughed and grabbed for it then held it to her chest in an adorable imitation of motherhood. “Women looking to pin paternity on a wealthy man.” Luis crossed his arms over his chest. She raised her eyebrows. “That happens?” “Pretty often.” He took another sip of water and then put the bottle down with a thump. He looked oddly disappointed. “I’m not falling for it, so why don’t you take your child and your scam elsewhere.” “This isn’t a scam. I’m serious.” “It’s a new twist,” he said in a fake-thoughtful way, “approaching a man you never slept with. Creative.” That made her cheeks heat. She didn’t sleep with anyone, not that he needed to know that. “No,” she said, reaching for her phone. “You slept with my roommate.” She scrolled through her pictures, found one of Tammalee and held it up for him to see. He squinted at it. “Oh, yea-a-ah,” he said, his brows drawing together. “Sweet girl. But why are you coming here, not her, to claim this is my child?” Deena glanced at Tammalee’s smiling photo, swallowed hard and slid her phone back into her purse. “Tammalee is dead,” she said. His eyes widened. “What? Really?” She nodded. “An accident.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” He stared at the carpet for a minute and then met her eyes. “You realize I’m going to verify all this?” She blew out a sigh. “Look up Tammalee Johnson, obituary.” He studied her a moment as if wondering if there were even a chance her story was true. She must have looked honest, because he walked around his massive desk, bent over the computer and typed and clicked. He found what he was looking for. “She died two months ago?” He turned the computer so she could see. The large-size picture of her friend, the one that had accompanied her obituary, made Deena choke up. And that made her angry at herself, and by extension, at this guy. Neither reaction made sense, but then, grief didn’t make sense. The baby stiffened in her arms, probably sensing her tension. Or maybe she’d spotted the picture of her late mother. “Shh, it’s okay,” Deena whispered, rubbing her back again. But this time, it didn’t help; Willow wailed. The high, keening cry was a sound Deena had heard daily for the past two years, but it still grated on her. “Okay. Okay, honey. Want more juice?” Willow slapped the bottle away, spilling juice all over Deena, and the guy’s fancy carpet. “Sorry.” Although she shouldn’t apologize for what his own kid had done. She rocked Willow in the vigorous way that sometimes calmed her down, trying to gauge whether this tantrum was likely to be a long one. She looked at Luis from under the cover of her lashes. Tammalee had been sure he wouldn’t understand Willow, saying he only cared about money. Still, if this meltdown went on, he might require an explanation. But first things first. She needed to get him to acknowledge paternity before going into Willow’s issues. Willow’s cries were softening, to Deena’s experienced ear, but they were still grating. Luis looked uneasy, his forehead wrinkling. “Can’t you do something?”
“She’s hungry and tired,” Deena said by way of explanation. “You could have found a better time to talk to me about this, when you didn’t have to wait.” “You could have given me five minutes before your big important meeting.” But she could see that the baby’s crying was impacting Luis, and she didn’t want it to make him dislike Willow before even getting to know her. “We can leave,” she offered, “but only when you agree to the next step.” “Fine. I’ll do a DNA test.” He sighed. “There’s a doctor I can call.” “I have a test right here.” She fumbled in her purse and pulled out the drugstore version. “You just have to rub the swab inside your mouth for fifteen seconds.” It had cost a hundred dollars, which was a hardship, but for Willow, it was worth it. He was already opening it. “How long does it take?” “Two days from receipt. You mail it in, so…next week?” “I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone. “Mrs. Jackson? Hey, before you leave, could you get a courier up to my office ASAP?” He listened. “Yes, I’m still here. I know. Soon.” He ended the call and looked at Deena. “I’ll have it sent to a better lab and try to get the results faster.” He studied Willow, still crying, and shook his head. She could tell he was hoping he’d get the good news that he wasn’t Willow’s father. Which, she supposed, was a possibility. Tammalee had enjoyed life, and men, and hadn’t been particularly choosy about who she’d spent time with—in or out of bed. But she’d insisted that Willow’s father was Luis, and Deena believed her.
She swabbed the baby’s mouth, making her cry again. Handed Luis the swab, and stood. “She’s a terrific kid and deserves the best,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left.
Whether the best outcome would be having Luis as a father, or not having him, she didn’t know.
ABOUT THE BOOK: Susan Mallery’s newest hardcover is an emotional, witty, and heartfelt story of Finley who is raising her niece because her long-addicted sister, Sloane, abandoned her. When Sloane reappears, eager to build a relationship with her daughter, Finley will struggle with forgiveness, the ties that bind a family together, and the fragility of trust.
Finley McGowan is determined that the niece she’s raising will always feel loved and wanted. Unlike she felt after her mom left to pursue a dream of stardom and her grandfather abandoned her and her sister Sloane when they needed him most. Finley reacted to her chaotic childhood by walking the straight and narrow—nose down, work hard, follow the rules.
Sloane went the other way.
Now Sloane is back, as beautiful and damaged as ever, and wants a relationship with her daughter. She says she’s changed, but Finley’s heart has been bruised once too often for her to trust easily. With the help of a man who knows all too well how messy families can be, Finley will learn there’s joy in surrendering and peace in letting go.
Mallery, with wisdom, compassion and her trademark humor, explores the nuances of a broken family’s complex emotions as they strive to become whole, in this uplifting story of human frailty and resilience.
EXCERPT:
Chapter One
Finley McGowan loved her niece Aubrey with all her heart, but there was no avoiding the truth—Aubrey had not been born with tap dance talent. While the other eight-year-olds moved in perfect rhythm, Aubrey was just a half beat behind. Every time. Like a sharp, staccato echo as the song “Counting Stars” by OneRepublic played over the dance studio’s sound system.
Finley felt a few of the moms glance at her, as if gauging her reaction to Aubrey’s performance, but Finley only smiled and nodded along, filled with a fierce pride that Aubrey danced with enthusiasm and joy. If tap was going to be her life, then the rhythm thing would matter more, but Aubrey was still a kid and trying new things. So she wasn’t great at dance, or archery, or swimming—she was a sweet girl who had a big heart and a positive outlook on life. That was enough of a win for Finley. She could survive the jarring half-beat echo until her niece moved on to another activity.
The song ended and the adults gathered for the monthly update performance clapped. Aubrey rushed toward her aunt, arms outstretched for a big hug. Finley caught her and pulled her close.
“Excellent performance,” she said, smoothing the top of her head. “You weren’t nervous.”
“I know. I don’t get scared anymore. I really liked the song and the routine was fun to learn. Thank you for helping me practice.”
“Anytime.”
When Aubrey had first wanted to study tap, Finley had gone online to find instructions to build a small, homemade tap floor. They’d put it out in the garage, and hooked up a Bluetooth speaker. Every afternoon, before dinner, Finley had played “Counting Stars” and called out the steps so Aubrey could memorize her routine. Next week the dance students would get a new routine and new song, and the process would start all over again. Finley really hoped the new music wouldn’t be annoying—given that she was going to have to listen to it three or four hundred times over the next few weeks.
They walked to the cubbies, where Aubrey pulled a sweatshirt over her leotard, then traded tap shoes for rain boots. April in the Pacific Northwest meant gray, wet skies and cool temperatures. Finley made sure her niece had her backpack from school, then waved goodbye to the instructor before ushering Aubrey to her Subaru.
While her niece settled in the passenger side back seat, Finley put the backpack within arm’s reach. Inevitably, despite the short drive home, Aubrey would remember something she had to share and would go scrambling for it. Finley didn’t want a repeat of the time her niece had unfastened her seat belt and gone shimmying into the cargo area to dig out her perfect spelling test. Going sixty miles an hour down the freeway with an eight-year-old as a potential projectile had aged Finley twenty years.
“We got our history project,” Aubrey announced as Finley started the car. “We’re going to be working in teams to make a diorama of a local Native American tribe. There’s four of us in our group.” She paused dramatically. “Including Zoe!”
“Zoe red hair or Zoe black hair?”
Aubrey laughed. “Zoe black hair. If it had been Zoe red hair, my life would have been ruined forever.”
“Over a diorama? Shouldn’t your life be ruined over running out of ice cream or a rip in your favorite jacket?”
“Dioramas are important.” She paused. “And hard to spell. We’re going to pick our tribe tomorrow, then research them and decide on the diorama. I want to do totem poles. The different animals tell a story and I think that would be nice. Oliver wants a bear attacking a village, but Zoe is vegetarian and doesn’t want to see any blood.” Aubrey wrinkled her nose. “I eat meat and I wouldn’t want to see blood either. Harry agrees with me on the totems, but Zoe isn’t sure.”
“So much going on,” Finley said, not sure she could keep up with the third-grade diorama drama.
“I know. Could we stop at the cake store on the way home? For Grandma? She’s been sad.” Aubrey leaned forward as far as her seat belt would let her. “I don’t understand, though. I thought being on Broadway was a good thing.”
“It is.”
“So Grandma was a good teacher for her student. Why isn’t she happy?”
Finley wondered how to distill the emotional complexity that was her mother in a few easy-to-understand concepts. No way she was getting into the fact that her mother had once wanted to be on Broadway herself, only to end up broke and the mother of two little girls. The best Molly had managed for her theater career was a few minor roles in traveling companies. Eventually motherhood and the need to be practical had whittled away her dream until it was only a distant memory. These days she taught theater at the local community college and gave intensive acting classes in her basement. It was the latter that had been the cause of her current depression.
“Her student wasn’t grateful for all Grandma did for her. When she got the big role, she didn’t call or text and she didn’t say thank you for all of Grandma’s hard work.”
Molly had not only found her student a place to stay, she’d worked her contacts to get the audition in the first place. Finley might not understand the drive to stand in front of an audience, pretending to be someone else, but if it was your thing, then at least act human when someone gave you a break.
Finley glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Aubrey’s eyes widen.
“You’re always supposed to say thank you.”
“I know.”
“Poor Grandma. We have to buy her cake. The little one with the sprinkles she likes.”
Finley held in a grin. “And maybe a chocolate one for you and me to share?”
“Oh, that would be very nice, but we could just get one for Grandma if you think that’s better.”
Finley was sure that Aubrey almost meant those last words. At least in the moment. Should she follow through and not buy a second small cake, her niece would be crushed. Brave, but crushed.
Nothing Bundt Cakes wasn’t on the way home, but it wasn’t that far out of the way. Finley headed along Bothell-Everett Highway until she reached Central Market, across from the library. She turned left and parked in front of the bakery. She and Aubrey walked inside.
Her niece rushed to the display. “Look, they have the confetti ones Grandma likes. They’re so pretty.”
The clerk smiled. “Can I help you?”
“A couple of the little cakes,” Finley told her. “A confetti and a chocolate, please.”
Aubrey shot her a grateful look, then tapped on the case. “Could we get a vanilla one? I see Mom on Saturday afternoon. I could take her a cake.”
The unpleasant reminder of Aubrey’s upcoming visitation had Finley clenching her jaw. She consciously relaxed as she said, “It’s only Wednesday. I don’t know if the cake will still be fresh.”
“Just keep it in the refrigerator,” the clerk told her. “They’re good for five days after purchase.”
Aubrey jumped in place, her enthusiasm making her clap loudly. “That’s enough time.” She counted off the days. “Thursday, Friday, Saturday. That’s only three days. Mom will love her little cake so much.” She pressed her hands together. “Vanilla is her favorite.”
Finley told herself that of course Aubrey cared about her mother. Most kids loved their parents, regardless of how irresponsible those parents might be. It was a biological thing. Sloane was doing better these days. Maybe this time she would stay sober and out of prison. Something Finley could wish for, but didn’t actual believe.
Finley nodded at the clerk. “We’ll take all three, please.”
Aubrey rushed toward her and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Thank you, Finley. For the cake and coming to my performance and helping me practice.”
“I seem to be stuck loving you, kid. I try not to, but you’re just so adorable. I can’t help myself.”
Aubrey laughed, looking up at her. Finley ignored how much her niece looked like Sloane—they had the same big blue eyes and full mouth, the same long curly hair. Aubrey was a pretty girl but like her mother, she would mature into a stunning woman one day, as had her grandmother Molly before her. Only Finley was ordinary—a simple seagull in a flock of exotic parrots.
Probably for the best, she told herself as she paid for the cakes. In her experience beautiful women were easily distracted by the attention they received. Little mattered more than adulation. Relationships were ignored or lost or damaged, a casualty of the greatness that was the beautiful woman. Finley, on the other hand, could totally focus on what was important—like raising her niece and making sure no one threatened her safety. Not even her own mother.
*
“What is it?” Jericho Ford stared at the picture on the tablet screen. The swirling tubes of metal twisted together in some kind of shape, but he had no idea what it was.
“The artist describes this creation as the manifestation of his idea of happiness,” Antonio offered helpfully.
“It looks like a warthog.”
“It’s art.”
“So a fancy warthog.”
“It’s on sale.”
“I don’t care if it’s left on the side of the road with a sign reading ‘free.’ It’s ugly and no.” Jericho looked at his friend. “Why would you show that to me?”
“You said you needed some pieces for your family room.”
“I meant a sofa and maybe a bigger television.”
“You could put this on the coffee table.”
“That’s where I put my beer and popcorn.” Jericho pointed to the tablet. “If you like it so much, you get it.”
Antonio’s brows rose. “Absolutely not. My house is all about midcentury modern these days.”
“The warthog isn’t midcentury enough?”
“No.” Antonio slapped the tablet closed and put it in his backpack before removing two gray subway tiles and setting them on Jericho’s desk. “I want to make a change in the kitchen backsplash for number eleven.”
Antonio pointed to the tile on the right. “This was the original choice. I like the shine and the texture, but I’ve been thinking it’s too blue.” He tapped the tile on the right. “This has more green and goes better with the darker cabinets in the island.”
Jericho loved his job. He built houses in the Seattle area, good-quality houses with high-end finishes and smart designs. They sourced local when possible, had a great reputation and frequently a waiting list for their new-construction builds. Castwell Park—the five-plus acres he’d bought in Kirkland, Washington—had been subdivided into twenty oversized lots where Ford Construction was in the process of building luxury houses.
Jericho enjoyed the entire building process—from clearing the land to handing over the keys to the new owners. While he’d rather be doing something physical with his days, he was the site manager and owner, and all decisions flowed through him. Including tile changes suggested by his best friend and the project’s interior designer.
“Those tiles are the same color,” Jericho said flatly.
Antonio grimaced. “They’re not. This one—”
“Has more blue. Yes, you said.”
He grabbed the tiles and walked out of the large construction trailer set up across the street from the entrance to Castwell Park. He’d made a deal with the owners of the empty lot to rent the space while construction was underway. When his crew finished the twentieth home, he was going to build one for the lot’s owner. Jericho didn’t, as a rule, build one-offs, but it had been the price of getting a perfect location for the construction trailer, so he’d made an exception.
Once out in the natural light, he rocked the two tiles back and forth, looking for a color difference. Okay, sure, one was a little bluer, but he doubted five people in a hundred would notice. Still, Antonio’s design ideas were a big reason for the company’s success. He had a way of taking a hot trend and making it timeless.
“Email me the change authorization and I’ll okay it,” Jericho said, handing back the tiles.
“I knew you’d agree. These will make all the difference.”
“No more changes on house eleven or twelve,” he said, leading the way back inside the trailer. “The designs are locked in and we’ve placed all our orders.”
“I know. This is the last one.” Antonio smiled. “Besides, I’ve already checked with the distributor and she said it was no problem to substitute one for the other.” He settled in the chair by Jericho’s desk. “Dennis and I were talking about you last night.”
“That never means good things for me.”
Antonio dismissed the comment with a wave. “We’re inviting a woman to our next party.”
Jericho knew exactly what his friend meant but decided to pretend he didn’t. “You usually have women at your parties.”
“A woman for you.”
“No.”
Antonio leaned toward him. “It’s time. You and Lauren split up nearly seven months ago. I know you’re still pissed at your brother, but that’s separate from getting over your ex-wife. They cheated, they’re hideous people and we hate them, but it’s time for you to move on.”
Antonio had always had a gift for the quick recap, Jericho thought, appreciating his ability to distill the shock of finding out his wife and his younger brother were having an affair and the subsequent divorce into a single sentence.
“I’ve moved on,” Jericho told him.
“You’re not dating. Worse, you’re not picking up women in bars and sleeping with them.”
Jericho grinned. “When have I ever done that?”
“You’re a straight guy. Isn’t it a thing?”
“I hate it when you generalize about me because I’m straight.”
Antonio grinned. “Poor you.” His humor faded. “It’s time to stop pouting and move on with your life.”
“Hey, I don’t pout.”
“Fine, call it whatever you want. Lauren was a total bitch and I honestly don’t have words to describe what a shit Gil is for doing what he did. But you’re divorced, you claim to have moved on, so let’s see a little proof.” His mouth turned down. “I worry about you.”
“Thanks. I’m okay.”
Mostly. He hadn’t seen his brother in six months, which had made the holidays awkward. His family was small—just his mom, him and his brother, with Antonio as an adopted member. Gil’s affair with Lauren had rocked their family dynamics nearly as much as his father’s death eight years ago, shattering their small world. Their mother had taken Jericho’s side—at least at first. Lately she’d been making noises about a reconciliation. As Gil and Lauren were still a thing, he wasn’t ready to pull that particular trigger just yet.
“Dennis is a really good matchmaker,” Antonio murmured.
“Did I say no? I’m kind of sure I said no. I can get my own women.”
“Yes, but you won’t.”
“Now who’s pouting?”
The first five notes of “La Cucaracha” played outside, announcing the arrival of the food truck. Antonio’s face brightened.
“Lunchtime. You’re buying.”
“Somehow I’m always buying.”
“You’re the rich developer. I’m a struggling artist. It’s only fair.”
“You have a successful design business. And if that wasn’t enough, your husband is a partner at a fancy, high-priced law firm. You married money.”
Antonio laughed. “Wasn’t that smart of me?”
Jericho followed him out of the trailer. “You would have married him if he was broke and homeless. You love him.”
“I do and now we need to find someone for you to love. Not another redhead. That last one was a total disaster.”
“I’m not sure the failure of our marriage had anything to do with the color of her hair.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—family, friendship and romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations,” and readers seem to agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.
Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She’s passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the Ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom.
1) What inspired you to write about sisters? And do you have a sister story to share?
I think I’m inspired to write about sisters precisely because I don’t have any of my own. I’m an only child. My parents were onlies, too, so I didn’t even have any cousins growing up. But I did have a good friend who came from a big family, and I absolutely adored going over to her house. It was so delightfully loud! So beautifully chaotic! (Maybe part of the reason I loved it so much was that I could leave and go home whenever I wanted. My friend envied the quiet and the privacy at my house.)
I wrote The Sister Effect because I wanted to explore the idea of two sisters who experience the same event—going side by side through childhood—but who perceive it differently. And their different perceptions create a ripple effect through the years that sends their lives in different directions. When Finley and Sloane were young, their mother and grandfather got into a custody battle for them. The court decided in Mom’s favor after Finley told the judge she didn’t want to lose her mom, so grandpa turned his backs on the girls. Can you imagine how traumatic that would be? They loved him, and they thought he loved them, too, but he reacted out of his own pain rather than out of thinking of what was best for them. Finley became terrified to trust her heart to anyone again. Sloane turned into the wild child of the family, larger than life on the outside to disguise her pain.
As The Sister Effect starts, the sisters are in their thirties and estranged. But they both deeply love Sloane’s young daughter, and their love for that little girl will open their hearts to one another so they can become true sisters once again. This book is painful and funny and uplifting, with so many juicy topics for bookclubs to dig into. I hope you’ll love The Sister Effect as much as I loved writing it.
Although I don’t have a sister story of my own to share, I did invite some of my favorite writers to share a True Story of Sisterhood. You can read them at https://sistereffect.susanmallery.com. There, you’ll find heartwarming stories of sisterhood from Maisey Yates, Carolyn Brown, Kristy Woodson Harvey, Mariah Stewart, Christine Rimmer, Alexis Morgan, Debbie Mason, Robyn Carr, Lori Foster, Brenda Novak, and Christina Dodd—plus some wonderful stories shared by my readers. It’s a true celebration of sisterhood, both biological and sisters of the heart!
2) What is the biggest challenge you face when you start writing a new book?
Because I’ve written so many books, my biggest challenge is to find fresh stories to tell and fresh ways to tell them. I try to make each book a little better than the one before. In The Sister Effect, I deal with a topic that I’ve never written about—I’ll let you read the book to find out what that is—and it was an exciting challenge because it was so new to me. I’m also incredibly nervous about this book, which is a good sign. I have found over the years that the books that make me the most nervous are the ones that readers love the best, because my nerves are a sign that I stretched myself as a storyteller.
3) If you were not an author, what other profession would you choose to be a part of and why?
I have a powerful imagination, but it’s really hard for me to imagine being anything other than a writer. I was published just months after I graduated college, and I’ve never had another job. However, I graduated in accounting, so I suppose I would probably be an unfulfilled accountant.
4) Does this book include any favorite recipes as some of your other books do?
Just one—but it’s a total wow! When I was writing The Sister Effect, I imagined a decadent breakfast that Sloane might serve at her restaurant, Life’s a Yolk. I called it Cinnamon Custard Yum-Yum and described it in the book as a cross between French toast and bread pudding. But it only existed in my imagination. . . until, in a case of life imitating art, I created a recipe to go with my imaginary recipe title. It. Is. Fabulous. Yum Yum Yum Yum YUM! The recipe is included with the book club discussion guide at the end of the book. Enjoy!
This is a story about love, loss, blended family and how everyone just wants to be accepted and understood. Flora Donovan is a happy-go-lucky florist in NYC who was orphaned as a child and never really part of a family that loved her. Jack Parker is a widower who lost the love of his life Becca a year ago and is still trying to find his way to a new relationship. He has two daughters, teen-ager Izzy and little Molly who is so precocious. When Jack meets Flora, no fireworks explode because this is not a book primarily about romance and new love. It’s more about family dynamics and forming bonds. Izzy is hurting and finds acceptance in the mom role that her mother left behind. Izzy cooks, cleans and acts as a mother for Molly, seeming to have little life of her own. Molly is more accepting of Flora when she meets her but is still influenced by Izzy’s distrust of anyone who wants to replace their mother. When Jack invites Flora to accompany the family on their annual vacation to the Lake District in Great Britain, Izzy is beside herself and Molly is a little anxious. The second half of the book is about the family’s vacation together and their burgeoning relationships with each other. Flora wants to be accepted, but she is well aware that she has to get Izzy to trust her before that will be possible. This book is all about the plot and the hearts of each of the characters, with a slow change for all of them. It is a really lovely story that is heartwarming and tear-gushingly good. Fans of Sarah Morgan’s books and family drama will enjoy this book. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from HQN via Netgalley as part of the blog tour. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Excerpt:
Prologue Clare
Was destroying evidence always a crime? Clare scrunched the letter into her pocket and walked across the damp grass to the lake. It had been raining all week and the ground was soft under her boots. The wind blew her hair across her face and she swept it back, needing to see clearly. She wasn’t built for moral dilemmas, and yet here she was, required to choose between the two things she valued most. Loyalty and honesty. Where the grass met the narrow shingle beach, she stopped. Across the water, nestling among the tall reeds on the western shore of the lake, was the boathouse. Behind it was dense woodland, offering an enviable degree of privacy. As a child, she had played there with her best friend, Becca, dodging uneven planks and cobwebs as they’d transformed themselves into pirates. They’d launched canoes, and splashed around in the freezing water, shrieking in delicious terror as their limbs were roped by tangled weeds. Her own child had played there, too, although she’d been less relaxed than her parents. Perhaps because she understood what degree of adventure was possible here, she’d insisted on life belts and supervision at all times. She’d lived in London and Paris for a while, but this little corner of England with its lakes and mountains was the only place that had ever felt like home. After her father died, she and Todd had moved here to be close to her mother. It had been Todd’s idea to convert the boathouse into a luxury property. An architect, he saw potential in the most dilapidated buildings, but in this case his vision had been inspired. Splintered planks and broken windows had been replaced by stone, cedar and acres of glass. The upturned crates that had provided rough seating were long gone. Now, when Clare had time to sit down, she relaxed into deep sofas, cocooned by linen and luxury. But the true luxury was the position. The peaceful waterfront location attracted the most discerning of travelers, people seeking to escape the stress of the modern world and sink instead into the sybaritic pleasures of life on the lake, where their nearest neighbors were ducks and dragonflies. There were plenty of people willing to pay good money for that degree of seclusion. Clare and Todd rented out the boathouse for enough weeks of the year to guarantee themselves a healthy income. The boathouse was visible from only one corner of her garden and occasionally Clare would glance across and see guests seated on the deck, sipping their champagne while watching the coots and cormorants sheltering in the reed beds. At night the only sounds were the whisper of the wind, the hoot of an owl and the occasional splash as a bird skimmed the surface of the water in search of sustenance. Privacy was assured because this section of the lake was only accessible from Lake Lodge, and the entrance to the main house was easily missed from the road unless you knew where to turn. Hidden from view and mostly concealed by an overgrowth azaleas and rhododendrons were large iron gates, and immediately behind those gates was the Gatehouse where her mother now lived. From there a long, graveled driveway wound its way to the house. Clare’s mother had moved into the Gatehouse after Clare’s father had died, insisting that Clare and Todd move into the bigger property. Almost on impulse, they’d sold their small London apartment and moved back to a place where the pace of life moved slowly. Like others, they came to breathe the air, walk the mountains and sail on the many lakes. Her friendship with Becca had grown and matured here. Maybe it would have ended here, but now she’d never know because Becca was gone. The boathouse held no evidence of their final conversation, and she was glad of that. But now she had written evidence, sent the day before Becca had died. I wish I’d never told you. Clare wished that, too. Her eyes stung. Grief. Frustration. She wished they hadn’t had that last talk, because now it was the only one she could remember. Their decades of friendship had somehow shrunk down to that last stressful hour. She’d been so angry with her friend, her loyalties stretched to snapping point. She hadn’t known that summer would be their last together. If she had, would she have tried harder to bridge the gulf that had opened up between them? Maybe not. She’d been angry, but now that anger was shaded with guilt, because death often brought guilt along as baggage. Did loyalty still matter when the person was dead? Did honesty matter when all it would produce was pain? “Clare!” Her mother’s voice drifted across the garden. “What are you doing out here in the rain? Come indoors.” Clare raised a hand, but she didn’t turn. She had a decision to make, and she’d always done her best thinking by the water. She considered herself an ethical and moral person. At school she’d been teased for always doing the “right thing,” which had made it all the more extraordinary that her best friend had been a girl who made a point of always doing the wrong thing. And now Becca had left her with this. She was so lost in thought she wasn’t aware of her mother until she felt her hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to go, you know.” Clare stared at the lake. Its surface was dark and stippled by rain. In the summer it was idyllic, but with angry clouds crowding the sky and small waves snapping at the shore, the sense of menace matched her mood. “She was my best friend.” “People grow apart. It’s a fact of life. You’re not the person at forty that you were at fourteen. Sometimes one has to accept that.” Had her mother sensed the tension between the two friends on that last visit? She’d walked down from the Gatehouse to see if she could help on that last day when Becca and Jack were busily packing the car and herding kids and luggage. Clare had hoped the chaos would conceal the fragile atmosphere, but her mother had always been emotionally intuitive. Fortunately, Jack and Todd had been too busy talking cars and engines to notice anything. When they’d left, Becca had brought her cheek close to Clare’s. Clare thought she’d murmured “sorry”, but she wasn’t sure and as Becca never apologized for anything it seemed unlikely. “I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t in my life.” She felt her mother’s hand on her arm. “And yet the two of you were always so different.” “I know. Becca was bright, and I was dull.” “No!” Her mother spoke sharply. “That wasn’t it at all.” Perhaps dull was the wrong word. Steady? Reliable? Boring? “It’s all right. I know who I am. I’m comfortable with who I am.” Until recently, she’d been able to sleep at night, satisfied with her choices. Until Becca had presented her with an impossible one. “You steadied her and she brought out your more adventurous side. She pushed you out of your comfort zone.” Why was that always considered a good thing? In this case it hadn’t been good. Clare was so far out of her comfort zone she couldn’t have found her way back with a compass or SatNav. She wanted to cling to something familiar, which is why she stared at the boathouse. But instead of all the happy times, all she saw was Becca, her beautiful face smeared with tears as she unburdened herself. “I know something happened between you. If you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.” Her mother produced an umbrella and slid her arm into Clare’s, sheltering both of them. Should she tell her mother? No, that wouldn’t be fair. She hated being in this position. The last thing she was going to do was put someone else where she was standing now. She was an adult, and way past the age where she needed her mother to untangle her problems and make decisions for her. “I’m going to the funeral. My flight is booked.” Her mother adjusted her grip on the umbrella. “I knew you would, because you’re you, and you always do the right thing. But I wish you wouldn’t.” “What if you don’t know what the right thing is?” “You always do.” But she didn’t, that was the problem. Not this time. “I’ve already told them I’m coming.” Her mother sighed. “It’s not as if Becca will know or care if you’re there.” The rain thudded steadily onto the umbrella, the sky sobbing in sympathy, sending lazy drips down the back of Clare’s coat. “I’m not going for Becca. I’m Izzy’s godmother. I want to be there for her.” “Those poor children. I can’t bear to think about it. And Jack. Poor Jack.” Poor Jack. Clare stared straight ahead. “What do I say?” She knew her mother wouldn’t give her the answer she needed, because Clare hadn’t asked the question she really wanted to ask. “They’ll find a way.” Her mother was brisk. “Life never sends us more than we can cope with.” Clare turned to look at her, seeing lines and signs of age that hadn’t been there before her father had died. “Do you honestly believe that?” “No, but I always think it sounds good when people say it to me. It’s reassuring.” Clare smiled for the first time in days. On impulse she hugged her mother, ignoring the damp coat and the relentless drip from the umbrella. “I love you, Mum.” “I love you, too.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder, the same way she had when Clare was a child and facing something difficult. You’ve got this. “Is Todd going with you?” “I don’t want him to. He’s still working on that big project.” In fact Todd had insisted that he’d drop everything to go with her but she’d refused. This was something that would actually be easier alone. “I’ll only be gone four days.” “Will you stay at the house?” Clare shook her head. Jack had suggested that she stay with them in Brooklyn, but she’d refused. She’d told him she didn’t want to make extra work, but the truth was she wasn’t ready to see him yet. Jack, with his warm nature and quick smile. She remembered the first time Becca had mentioned him. I’ve met a man. Becca had met plenty of men, so to begin with Clare had barely paid attention. She’d expected this relationship to be as short-lived as the others. “He’s a good man,” Becca had said and they’d laughed because up until that point Becca had never been interested in good men. She liked them bad to the bone. She blamed her upbringing. Said that she wouldn’t know what to do with a man who treated her well, but apparently with Jack she’d known. Clare remembered the first time Becca had shown her round the house in Brooklyn. Look at me, all grown up—four bedrooms, three bathrooms and a closet for my shoes. I’m almost domesticated. Almost. There had been a twinkle in her eyes, that same twinkle that had helped her laugh her way out of trouble so many times at school. Clare gripped the letter. Attending the funeral wasn’t going to be the hardest part. The hardest part would be pretending that nothing had changed between her and Becca. Kissing Jack on the cheek, keeping that unwanted nugget of knowledge tucked away inside her.
USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan writes lively, sexy contemporary stories for Harlequin.
“Romantic Times” has described her as ‘a magician with words’ and nominated her books for their Reviewer’s Choice Awards and their ‘Top Pick’ slot. In 2012 Sarah received the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America. She lives near London with her family. Find out more at http://www.sararahmorgan.com.
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