Sloane snuggled against me and let out a sigh of contentment. “Every year just keeps getting better,” she said.
I stroked my hand over her hair, currently a silver blond. It really did. My semiretirement hadn’t been the bump I’d expected it to be. Nolan and Lina had been promoted. The unbearably chipper Holly had moved in next door to us in my old house with her new husband to work with Sloane’s foundation. Between the library and her foundation, Sloane continued to amaze me with her generosity and tenacity.
We’d kept my place in the city, but it had taken buying a monstrous place in the Outer Banks to get Sloane to truly slow down. Every year, we wrangled the entire extended brood into a two-week beach vacation. The kind I’d always dreamed of as a kid. With bonfires and fireworks and lazy days spent getting too much sun.
The life we’d built was the stuff of dreams.
Sloane sat up and looked at me with eager eyes. “I got you something.”
“You got me everything.”
“Said the rich guy who literally showers me with gifts on a daily basis. Do you think you can handle your anniversary present?”
I sighed. “Of course, but do it quickly before someone finds us out here.”
It had become yet another little tradition between just the two of us, sentimental gifts exchanged privately on our anniversary. This morning, I’d given Sloane hers, a custom-made dress by the same designer who had made her wedding gown. She was wearing it now, and every time I looked directly at her, my heart beat just a little faster.
Smugly, she lifted a pillow from the end of the swing to reveal a package wrapped in red-and-green-plaid paper.
I unearthed an acrylic frame from beneath the paper and lifted it free.
It was a single, perfect cherry blossom.
“It’s from our tree. I figured since you gave each kid a cutting that you should have something from it that you can enjoy all year-round.”
I traced my fingers over the blossom that had symbolized so much for me for so long.
Hope. Love. Family.
All of it I’d earned. All of it Sloane had given me.
“It’s…uh… It’s…nice.” I managed to get the words out around the lump in my throat.
Sloane grinned, bouncing on the cushion. “I knew you’d love it!” She paused her victory dance as the sound of breaking glass, a chorus of “uh-ohs,” and raucous barking sounded from inside. “Now, get your shit together before we go back in there.”
I chuckled and looked up to catch the winking angel on top of the porch tree. “He would have loved this,” I said.
“You know what else he would have loved? The dad and grandpa you are.”
I pulled her into my lap and framed her face with my hands. “All for you. Always.”
If you enjoyed this book, leave your review here!
Dear Reader,
I never type The End. Not even on the happiest of happily ever afters. It’s a superstition of mine because I’m never quite ready to say goodbye. To me, these characters that have occupied my brain all live on long after the book or the series ends.
But Knockemout has come to a close, and I don’t know what to do with myself now. These characters have been part of my life for more than two years. Two years of drastic change and wild dreams and tragic losses.
Not only am I a better writer because of Knockemout (write nearly half a million words about anything and you’re bound to improve), but I feel like I’m a better person. I learned so much about love and loss and everything in between thanks to Naomi and Knox, Lina and Nash, and Sloane and Lucian. And I remembered the magical properties of laughter (that “shocking” dinner scene).
Thank you for being on this journey with me. I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know!
Xoxo,
Lucy
Acknowledgments
Joyce and Tammy for all of the things ever, especially the reminders to shower.
Kari March Designs for the trifecta of perfect covers.
Victoria Morrone for your generous donation to the LIFT 4 Autism auction.
The teams from That’s What She Said, Bloom Books, and Hodder Books for… well, literally everything. Special shout-out to Tim, Dan, Deb, Christa, Pam, and Kimberley.
My agent, Flavia, and my attorney, Eric, for preventing me from doing many stupid things. So many.
ELOE, Tiki, and the TWSS authors for making the hard part about writing easier.
All the readers I got to meet in person on tour.
All the readers I haven’t got to meet yet.
Taco Bell forever and always.
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Writing romance so steamy her family can’t look her in the eye
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Read on for a sneak peek at the first book in the unmissable Benevolence series . . .
Pretend You’re Mine
A perfect small-town romance!
1
This was officially the worst day of Harper’s adult life.
What had she ever seen in that jackass? She yanked the sun visor down, squinting against the low spring sun. At least the setting sun meant this day from hell was almost over. Even if she still had no idea where she was going.
Which was just perfect.
She automatically reached for her bag before remembering that she had left it—and her wallet and phone— behind. Her phone with its GPS that could tell her if she was even heading in the right direction.
Hannah lived two hours southwest of the city. Harper wasn’t sure how her college roommate would feel about a short-term couch crasher, but she was her only hope at this point.
The dashboard’s orange low fuel light chose that moment to ding on. “Damn it.” She had forgotten to stop for gas on the way home and she certainly hadn’t been thinking about it after storming out.
She spotted the next exit—a town called Benevolence, Maryland—and signaled. She was going to have to find a payphone. Did they even have those anymore? Did she even have anyone’s number memorized? Harper groaned.
Maybe she could borrow someone’s phone, log on to Face-book, and beg nearby friends for a ride.
Just inside the town’s limits, she coasted into the gravel parking lot of what appeared to be a bar gearing up for a hopping Friday night. It was a rustic-looking log cabin kind of place. No neon lights in the windows, just a simple hand-painted sign that hung from the eaves of the skinny front porch:
Remo’s
There was a patio on the side strung with lights and sail shades. A few patrons were clustered around heaters and an open fire pit.
It felt friendly. And she could use a friend right now.
Harper climbed out of her aging Volkswagen Beetle, and the hinges squealed as she shut the door. Leaning against the faded fender, she let her gaze wander, looking for a friendly stranger with a smartphone. “How do I get myself into these situations?” she sighed, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“I warned you!”
The guttural shout came from between a pair of pickups two rows back where a man towered over a tiny brunette. He had the woman by the shoulders and was shaking her hard enough to rattle teeth.
“I fucking told you, didn’t I?” He shook her again, even harder this time.
Harper hustled forward. “Hey!”
The screaming giant barely spared her a glance over his shoulder. “Mind your own business, nosy whore.” Harper could hear the slur in his words.
The brunette started to cry. “Glenn—”
“I’m sick of hearing it!” He closed a ham-sized fist around her neck and shoved her against the truck, lifting her off her feet. The woman clawed helplessly at the hand squeezing her throat.
Seeing red, Harper launched herself at his back.
At impact, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He shrieked, too high-pitched for a man of his size, and released the woman. Arms flailing, he slammed back against the pickup trying to dislodge Harper.
She held on tighter as his weight crushed into her torso.
“Not so easy when we fight back is it, asshole?” she gritted out.