Love a Little Sideways (Kowalski Family, #7)
Shannon Stacey
Dear Reader,
The Kowalskis are back! And so is Liz, who’s tired of being far from her family while her cousins and brothers fell in love and started families. It might be awkward seeing the town’s chief of police after they snuck away during her brother’s wedding, but it’s time for her to go home.
Take two people starting over in life, throw in family, s’mores, a classic Mustang and a little bit of doom, and it just might be the recipe for another Kowalski happily-ever-after.
Thank you to all of you who’ve enjoyed spending the time with the Kowalskis. If you’re meeting them for the first time, I hope you like this rowdy bunch. It’s been a pleasure sharing this family with you.
Happy reading!
Shannon
Dedication
For Meesha. I’ve loved you since the day you were born and, even though as sisters growing up we couldn’t have been more different, our friendship as adults means everything to me. Who else can you call, ranting and raving and venting, and then say “Thanks, gotta go,” to but your sister? You’re an amazing mother, sister and aunt, and I know Mark will agree you’re a fabulous wife, too. As always, you are our sunshine
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my editor, Angela James, and my agent, Kimberly Whalen, for being wicked awesome. And to the Carina Press team, whose hard work and enthusiasm for the Kowalski series means more than I can ever express.
And thank you to Vanessa, Judy and Sam, winners of the Name That Kowalski Kid contest, for naming Sean and Emma’s baby boy!
Chapter One
Liz Kowalski’s thirty-year-old shitbox, loaded down with everything she owned, went by the Welcome To Whitford, Maine sign trunk-first, bald tires hydroplaning as it headed for the ditch.
Knuckles white on the steering wheel, she swore as the ass end clipped a tree and the trunk popped open. Closing that sucker had been like shoving a twelve-inch Jack into a two-inch box and she could almost hear the sproing of her belongings popping out. Welcome home, she thought in the seconds before the Buick’s nose smacked left-fender-first into the trunk of an old pine, stopping its slide with a bone-jarring jerk.
Well. That sucked.
Liz sat there for a minute, breathing hard and wondering how long it would be before she could pry her fingers off the steering wheel. Five minutes, maybe. Ten. She’d never been so scared in all her life.
The knock on her window almost made her wet herself. An older man with a fisherman’s hat perched on his head was peering in at her and she could see a woman—his wife, presumably—trying to see over his shoulder. Liz read the words is she dead on her lips.
Rolling down her window, Liz forced a reassuring smile. “I really appreciate you stopping, but I’m fine, thank you.”
“You just sit tight,” the man said. “My wife called 9-1-1 for you.”
Oh, no. No no no. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m okay. Really. Not even a scratch on me.”
She wasn’t entirely sure of that fact, but she didn’t seem to hurt anywhere. Just a whole lot of muscles that had tensed up and were now relaxing. And maybe a little headache starting.
“It’s no trouble at all, and we’ll stay with you until the police arrive.”
Maybe it wouldn’t be Drew Miller. He was the chief of police in Whitford, after all, so maybe he didn’t respond to minor traffic accidents. He probably sat at his desk and pushed papers while sending patrol officers to minor accident scenes. She hoped.
Liz pulled the handle to open the door, but Mister Good Samaritan pushed against it. “You shouldn’t move around until the paramedics check you out.”
“It’s raining. You should get back in your car.” So she could have relative privacy to scope out how many of her belongings were getting soaked. When the man shook his head, she bit down on a sigh of frustration. “I slid off the road and clipped a tree. It’s not even a real accident.”
“You could be in shock.”
From sideswiping a tree? Not likely. But she couldn’t be any more firm with her would-be rescuers without being rude. “I didn’t even hit my head on the window.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
It was another five very awkward minutes before she heard the siren. Rather than being relieved rescue from her hovering Good Samaritans was imminent, Liz leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She didn’t even bother hoping it wasn’t the chief as the wailing grew closer. The way her luck was running, it would be Drew and everything was about to get a lot more awkward.