Authors: Kristan Higgins
Somebody to Love
New York Times
and
USA
TODAY
bestselling author Kristan Higgins is
back with a hilarious and heartwarming new story about a rich girl who
discovers that a little hard work may be just the thing she
needs….
After her father loses the
family fortune in an insider-trading scheme, single mom Parker Welles is
faced with some hard decisions. First order of business: go to Gideon’s
Cove, Maine, to sell the only thing she now owns—a decrepit house in need of
some serious flipping. When her father’s wingman, James Cahill, asks to go
with her, she’s not thrilled…even if he is fairly gorgeous and knows his way
around a toolbox.
Having to fend for herself
financially for the first time in her life, Parker signs on as a florist’s
assistant and starts to find out who she really is. Maybe James isn’t the
glib lawyer she always thought he was. And maybe the house isn’t the only
thing that needs a little TLC....
Praise for the novels of
New York Times
bestselling author Kristan Higgins
UNTIL THERE WAS
YOU
“Higgins…employs her usual
breezy, intimate style,
which is sure to engage her
fans.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“Higgins has a knack for
sweet
but not syrupy romances peppered with humor
and populated
with colorful characters.”
—
Booklist
MY ONE AND ONLY
“A funny, poignant
romance.”
—
Publishers Weekly,
starred review
ALL I EVER WANTED
“Higgins has a special talent
for
creating characters readers love.”
—
RT Book Reviews,
4½
stars
THE NEXT BEST
THING
“A heartwarming,
multi-generational tale of lost love,
broken hearts and second
chances.”
—
BookPage
TOO GOOD TO BE
TRUE
Winner—2010 Romance Writers of
America RITA® Award
“Cheeky, cute, and satisfying,
Higgins’s romance
is perfect entertainment for a girl’s night
in.”
—
Booklist
JUST ONE OF THE
GUYS
“Higgins provides an amiable
romp
that ends with a satisfying lump in the throat.”
—Publishers Weekly
CATCH OF THE DAY
Winner—2008 Romance Writers of
America RITA® Award
“A novel with depth and a great
deal of heart.”
—
RT Book
Reviews,
top pick, 4½ stars
Dear Reader,
I never wanted to write about a millionaire heroine. And I haven’t. But there are some characters who’ve really stuck with me…characters who feel like they have more to say, more to do. Parker Welles was one such character. You might remember her from
The Next Best Thing,
Lucy’s blunt and good-natured best friend. For some reason, I just wasn’t able to forget Parker, who seemed so content to be on her own, raising her son, writing those sappy children’s books.
I also couldn’t seem to get over Gideon’s Cove, Maine, the setting for
Catch of the Day.
So many of you wrote to me, wondering what happens to Maggie and Malone, and I’m very flattered that you loved them enough to want to see them again! I wondered, what if I took away Parker’s money and career and sent her up to the coast of Maine, to a little town where she doesn’t know a soul? What would she do? How would she handle things? Could she spend the summer reinventing herself and create a happy life for her son? And what if the man sent to help her out is the last guy whose help she’d want…James Cahill, her father’s attorney.
James has watched the Princess, as he calls her, from afar for some time now. Perfect Parker has never needed anything from him…until now…and James is determined to make her see him in a new light.
Somebody to Love
is a story about discovering your true worth, and finding out what you can do when your back is against the wall. And it’s also about who we truly are, despite outward appearances, and what we really want. Home. Love. A future. What more could there be?
I hope you’ll love Parker and James, and if you’ve read
Catch of the Day,
I hope you’ll have fun seeing Gideon’s Cove again.
Enjoy the book!
Kristan
Somebody to Love
Acknowledgments
As always, I am so grateful for
the lovely friendship and tremendous dedication of my agent, Maria
Carvainis, for her unwavering efforts on my behalf. Many, many thanks to my
wonderful team at Harlequin: Keyren Gerlach, Tara Parsons, Margaret
O’Neill Marbury and Michelle Renaud, the incredible gang in
Marketing and Digital, all the lovely sales reps and especially
Donna Hayes, who makes running a
huge corporation look easy and does
so while wearing incredible shoes.
Much love and thanks to the
endlessly capable Kim Castillo of Author’s Best Friend and to the
brilliant Sarah Burningham at Little Bird Publicity, ever cheerful, ever
helpful, ever lovely, both of you!
For their input, thanks to
Huntley Fitzpatrick, Shaunee Cole, Kelly Morse and Karen Pinco. You guys are
fun, smart and gorgeous, all of you. To the merry band of
writers better known as CTRWA, thank you for the love and support. Love
and thanks to Jackie Decker, my BFF and sister-in-law (the Holy Rollers and
Ark Angels were her ideas, so blame her). Thanks to my mom for telling
us the story of Mickey the Fire Engine so many times when we were
small…the thrill has yet to fade! Huge thanks to my brother-in-law,
Brian Keenan, Esq., for his input
on legal issues (any mistakes are
mine, all mine). Claire Shanahan Bacon named Beauty, Parker’s dog, and
the dog’s personality grew from there. Maura Fehon was my lovely and
hardworking summer intern—thank you, honey!
I am very blessed to be able to
claim so many writers as dear friends, but this time around, thanks
especially to Robyn Carr, Susan Andersen, Jill Shalvis, Cindy Gerard, Joan
Kayse and Elizabeth Hoyt. And thanks especially to Robyn for letting me
steal a certain salty expression Lavinia uses. You’ll know it when you
see it.
Thank you to my two wonderful
kids who only grow more delightful, and to my sainted husband, who
is the love of my life, even after all these years…especially after all
these years.
And you, dear readers, for the
letters and notes which bring me such joy…thank you from the bottom of my
heart.
Also available
from
KRISTAN HIGGINS
and HQN Books
Until There Was You
My
One and Only
All I Ever Wanted
The Next Best Thing
Too Good
to Be True
Just One of the Guys
Catch of the Day
Fools Rush
In
Watch for more
books from Kristan, coming soon!
This book is dedicated to my daughter Flannery,
who is my treasure, my joy and my heart.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
“
A
ND
WITH
THAT
,
the six Holy Rollers—Golly, Polly and Molly, Ike, Mike and Spike—took off their magical roller skates for the last time. Their job on earth was done. They’d earned their beautiful, sparkly angel wings and could stay in heaven forever…and ever…and ever. The end.”
Parker Harrington Welles suppressed a dry heave, closed the book and tried not to envision smothering the fictional angels, no matter how much she would’ve enjoyed it.
Don’t kill us, Parker!
squeaked the imaginary voices in her head, their voices helium-shrill.
I can’t kill you. You’re immortal. Unfortunately.
One of the huge downsides of writing the series—the little pains in the butt talked to her. Another downside—Parker talked back.
Seven or eight little hands shot up in the air.
“Please write more Holy Rollers books, Miss Welles.”
I’d rather bathe in my own blood, kid,
thought Parker. “No, sweetie, the Holy Rollers are in heaven now,” she answered. “This is the last book in the series. But you can see them in a movie this summer, don’t forget.”
Today at her son’s preschool, the Holy Rollers, a book series so sickeningly precious it made
The Velveteen Rabbit
look like a chapter out of
Sin City,
was officially done. Though they had made Parker moderately famous in the world of kiddie lit, had been translated into sixteen languages and had print runs in the gazillions, there was no getting around the fact that their author hated them.
Hate
is such an angry word!
chorused the child angels.
We love
you,
Parker!
Honestly, they were a Cartoon Network version of a Greek chorus, always popping into her head with unwanted advice.
“Did you write
Harry Potter?
” was the next question, this one from Nicky’s friend Caitlin.
“No, afraid not, honey. But I love those books, don’t you?”
“Sometimes I get the Warm Fuzzles, just like the Holy Rollers,” Mariah said, and Parker nearly threw up in her mouth. Had she really invented that term? Had she been drinking at the time?
“Are you rich?” Henry Sloane asked.
“Well,” Parker answered, “if you’re asking if I make a lot as an author, the answer is no. All the money I get for the Holy Rollers goes to a charity called Save the Children.”
“That’s for kids who don’t have enough food,” Nicky said proudly, and Parker smiled at her son. It was the one good thing about the book series. Parker didn’t need the money, so right from the get-go, she’d donated all proceeds to the charity, which took away some of the nausea.
“But you live in a mansion,” Will Michalski stated with authority. “I’ve been there. You have twenty-nine bathrooms.”
“True enough,” she said, a twinge of discomfort flashing through her.
“It’s a mansion. It’s a castle! I want to live there when I grow up!”
“Are you going to write another book?” asked Amelia.
Excellent question. Parker might not love the Holy Rollers, but new ideas hadn’t exactly been pouring out of her. “I hope so.”
“What’s it about?”
“Um, I’m not quite sure yet. But I’ll let you know, okay? Any other questions? Yes, Ben.”
After another half hour, as the questions dwindled into what color wings Golly should have, the teacher finally stepped in.
“Miss Welles has to get going, I’m sure,” she said. “Kids, can you say thank-you to Nicky’s mom?”
“Thank you, Nicky’s mom!” the kids chorused, then rushed her, hugging her legs, the payoff for reading
The Holy Rollers Earn Their Halos
out loud.
“Am I staying with Daddy this weekend?” Nicky asked as they walked to the car.
“You sure are,” Parker answered. She stroked her son’s dark hair. Ethan’s weekend had come awfully fast, it seemed. She gave her son a kiss, then bent to buckle him into his booster.
“I can do it myself,” Nicky said.
“Right. Sorry, honey.” She got into the driver’s seat and started the car.
A weekend alone. Parker tried not to sigh. She really needed to find another idea for a series. The Holy Rollers had been born as a spoof, sure, but they’d been her job for the past six years. Aside from staring at a blank computer screen and possibly watching a Gerard Butler movie or three, she had no plans.
“You should sleep over, too,” Nicky suggested, practically reading her mind. “We could have popcorn. Lucy said she’s making me a cake.”
“The woman can bake, that’s for sure,” Parker said. “What kind?”
“My favorite kind. With the frosting and the coconut. I can eat seven pieces, she said.”
“Did she, Nicky?” Parker cocked an eyebrow. Truth wasn’t a strong point for her little guy these days.
“I think so. She maybe said five. But it was a lot.”
Nicky continued to chatter about the joys that lay ahead of him for the weekend: eating cake; a sail on Ethan’s boat; more cake; sleeping with Fat Mikey, Lucy and Ethan’s cat; possibly taking a bath with Fat Mikey; having cake at midnight; and finding the pirate’s cave that Mackerly, Rhode Island, supposedly possessed. Like his grandmothers, Nicky had been born with the gift of chat.
As she pulled onto Ocean View Drive, Parker frowned a little. The preschooler’s comment about living in a mansion had struck a nerve. Lately, she’d been thinking of moving, concerned over the idea that Nicky would be thought of as the rich kid. It hadn’t helped her; trust funds were hard to get past for a lot of people. But Grayhurst had been in her family for four generations, built by her great-great-grandfather at the turn of the century, and though she’d grown up in New York City, Parker had moved to Mackerly permanently after she’d gotten pregnant. She had a lot of happy memories of childhood summers—tea parties with her three cousins, learning to sail with her father. Ethan lived in town, and she’d wanted Nicky to grow up knowing both his parents, even if they’d never been married. But two people, living in a mansion in which they really only used a few rooms…it didn’t feel right.
The place was gorgeous, though, she thought as they pulled into the driveway. Silhouetted against the aching blue of a June sky and bathed in the golden sun of late afternoon, the gray stone building looked like a stately grande dame gazing out contentedly over the acres of manicured lawns, flower beds and mature trees. Frickin’ huge, but beautiful.
Ethan and Lucy, Parker’s closest friends, were already here, holding hands as they sat on wide front steps that led from the driveway to the enormous entryway. Ethan jumped up to open her door as she pulled in.
“Daddy!” Nicky yelled, scrambling out of the car.
“How’s my guy?” Ethan asked, scooping him up.
“So,” Lucy said, “are congratulations in order?”
“I am officially done with the Holy Rollers. Let the good times roll.”
“Good for you, Parks,” Ethan said, kissing Nicky’s cheek. “You proud of Mommy, Nick?”
“Yup. What’s for snack? Is cake for snack?”
“No cake till after supper,” Lucy said. “Unless your dad decides otherwise.”
“Decide otherwise, Dad!” Nicky commanded, cantering ahead.
“Parker, do you have plans tonight?” Lucy asked. “I figured the boys could have some time alone, and we could hang out.”
Saved! “I would love that! We can break open some of my father’s wine and gossip about Ethan’s flaws all night.”
Lucy reached for his hand. “He’s driving me crazy. I’m thinking marriage was a huge mistake.”
“My God, it’s like you’re reading my mind,” Ethan said. “Shall I call an attorney?” They grinned at each other.
“Guys, I just ate, okay?” Parker said, cocking an eyebrow. The tiniest swirl of envy threaded through her. Lucy and Ethan were crazy in love, and yep, Ethan was the father of Parker’s child. It wasn’t as freaky as it sounded. Or maybe it was, and Parker was in denial.
“We brought the itinerary for our trip,” Ethan said, standing back to let the ladies go in first. “Figured you’d want a copy.”
“Great!” Parker said firmly. “I’m dying to see it.”
Her friends had gotten married in February, but they hadn’t had a honeymoon yet; instead, they were taking Nicky to California as soon as preschool finished. San Francisco, Muir Woods, Yosemite. After that, Ethan would be occupied with the reopening of his restaurant, so the timing seemed perfect.
It was just that it was for three weeks.
Three weeks without her boy.
“Daddy!” Nicky galloped back and grabbed his father’s hand. “Come see my room! I cleaned it yesterday. Mommy made me. She said it was a sty. Where pigs live. I found Darth Vader’s head!” He tugged his father up the curving staircase.
Parker and Lucy went through the house to the kitchen, Parker’s favorite place in the house. “I brought us sustenance,” Lucy said, holding out a bag. “White-chocolate macadamia cookies.”
“Satan, get thee behind me.” She took out a cookie—heck yeah, still warm!—and took a bite. Bliss. “Do you know I’ve gained eleven pounds since last year? You hit thirty-five, and bam, all those things you ate in your twenties launch themselves onto your ass.” Parker raised an eyebrow as Lucy laughed. “You’ll see.”
“I already see,” her friend said. “So what? You’re a size eight now? The horror, the horror.”
“Oh, I hit double digits some time ago. Let’s never speak of it again.”
“You bet,” Lucy said.
Marriage agreed with her, Parker thought. Lucy’d had it rough; widowed before her first anniversary years ago. Jimmy, her husband, had been Ethan’s older brother; Ethan and Lucy had been college friends; the shared loss brought them closer together. About six years after Jimmy died, Ethan and Lucy had finally hooked up.
And somewhere in there, long before Ethan and Lucy had anything romantic together, he’d dated Parker for about two months. The guy had been great on paper, save for one minor detail: he’d been in love with Lucy. Parker always thought it funny that more people hadn’t seen it. She broke up with him—it wasn’t terribly hard; they’d already seemed more like old pals than anything—then found out six weeks later that she was pregnant. They’d shared Nicky from the beginning.
She took another cookie out of the bag and ate it. “Holy halos, these are good. Shoot me if I eat another. Where’s the itinerary? It’s color coded, right? Tell me it’s color-coded.”
“Of course it is,” Lucy said, unfolding a three-page spreadsheet.
“So you’ll be in San Fran for three days?”
“Four.” Lucy pointed. “See? San Francisco’s in pink.”
“Of course.” Parker bent over the paper, grateful for Lucy’s organizational skills. She’d know where her son was every minute.
Ethan came into the kitchen and helped himself to a cookie. “Parker, what are your plans while we’re away?” he asked. “Got anything lined up?”
“Oh, I might bop out to Nantucket and see some old pals out there. Go into the city. Maybe visit my mom. You know.” She reached for another cookie.
The truth was, she hadn’t made any solid plans. The idea of having her son four
thousand
miles away made her want to sleep at the airport, in case something went wrong.
Which it won’t,
the Holy Rollers assured her.
Lucy and Ethan are the best! Plus, it’ll be good for Nicky to see what a healthy adult relationship looks like!
Take a bite,
Parker thought. So she hadn’t been in a relationship since Ethan. So she’d yet to go on a second date with anyone in five years. So what? She tended to attract emotionally unavailable men, anyway. Married men, engaged men, sociopaths, that sort of thing. Better not to date at all. The fact that she’d spent a lot of time watching gritty TNT dramas and eating Ben & Jerry’s should not be construed as jealousy. It was more like a filling of the gap.
A gap that would now be uninterrupted for three weeks.
When Ethan broached the vacation idea back in March, it had seemed like a fabulous idea…Parker, on her own, free to do whatever she wanted—sleep past 5:00 a.m., for example, as Nicky was like a rooster about mornings. Find that elusive new idea for a book series. Just because Parker had been born with a trust fund didn’t mean she wanted to build a life around shopping for handbags.
But as the spring progressed, she did nothing. What if something happened with Ethan’s restaurant, and the trip had to be canceled? What if a new book series came to her, and she was on fire to write it, the way she’d heard other authors describe? She should probably stay home, in case something came up.
It didn’t. And now with ten days to go, the time alone seemed to loom like a mine shaft. She didn’t even have the Holy Rollers to keep her busy, and the fact that this even caused a twinge was deeply disturbing.
“I was hiding! No one found me! I beat you all.” Nicky charged into the kitchen with Elephant, his favorite stuffed animal.
“Nicky, you can’t hide without telling us, remember?” Parker said. “It’s not a game that way.”
“But I always win,” her son pointed out.