These days, The Butterfly House Foundation she’d dreamed up took most of her attention. The story she’d reported about the school district, bullying, and their ineffectiveness to handle the situation, drew an abundance of unwanted attention to the school board. To solve their public relations nightmare, they worked with Lucy to create a foundation addressing an anti-bullying agenda. Thanks to Lucy, kids throughout Confluence now had in-school programs, after-school programs, you-name-it programs, all working to solve the issue. At the moment, the groups were full, with a waiting list. That was unacceptable to Lucy. She worked overtime to figure out how to expand their capacity. That was unacceptable to William because it bit into their time together. He was working on hiring an assistant for her. She hadn’t agreed yet, but she would.
“Guess who got a rooster to talk?” Lucy sauntered toward him, her skirt molded to the curves of her hips.
He stood and dusted the dirt from his jeans. “You certainly have a way with cock.”
She snorted. “C’mon, I’ve been saving my calories all week for a funnel cake. There’s a place that puts whipped cream and those sugar-covered marshmallow chicken things on top.”
“Peeps?” he asked.
Her eyes danced. “I heard they even lop off the heads before they serve them. Isn’t that awesome?”
Yeah, she fit right in here at Confluence.
She grabbed his hand and made her way through the crowd. “If there’s a food truck filled with marshmallow chicken heads, I wonder if they’d let me buy just the heads?”
“Anything you want, Princess.”
“Have you talked to Parker, lately?” she asked.
Parker continued to keep track of William’s investments in Colorado Springs. He’d turned that station around in only a few months. They’d been in the black for months, and everyone had kept their jobs.
“Yesterday.”
“Allie?”
“Same.”
Lucy glanced away. “I’m sorry.”
He threaded her fingers with his and squeezed.
Turned out there really was a booth that sold funnel cakes with headless chicken Peeps on top.
“How much for a bag of the marshmallow head things?” William asked the concession guy.
“No one’s ever asked that before,” he replied. “Twenty dollars, I guess?”
“We’ll take them. And whatever Lucy wants.” William tugged out his wallet.
Lucy’s eyes lit up, and the way her face went soft for William when the concession guy handed over the huge bag of marshmallows made it worth every dollar.
They stopped at a table near the kid’s play area where toddlers climbed on oversize plastic farm animals. The bluegrass band on the stage warmed up for their set, and Lucy dusted the powdered sugar from a chunk of funnel cake. Yeah, life was pretty amazing these days.
“I confess I’ve been thinking.” Lucy sat beside him and leaned her shoulder against his arm.
“We’re confessing? What’re you putting on the line?” He breathed in the scent of coconut on her hair. Heaven.
She held up the bag of marshmallow heads.
“Must be serious if you’re willing to put your heads on the line.” He reached into his pocket. “I’ve got keys to the truck and my last stick of gum. You go first.”
She flicked at the powdered sugar on the side of her plate. “I confess I’ve been thinking that maybe we should start planning our family.”
Warmth that had nothing to do with the summer filled his gut. He turned her to him and ran the pad of his thumb along her jaw, studying the freckles on her nose. There were eight of them. He’d counted.
“You ready for that?” he asked seriously.
“Yes,” she said on a breath.
He swallowed. Hard. “That’s amazing, Luce. That’s—”
And then she kissed him, and she was his.
And he could breathe.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband, Steve, who supported, encouraged, and held my hand through this dream of mine to write a book. My kids—all four of them—for being patient as I, “Just finished this chapter.” Over and over and over.
My mom, Shirley, and my sister, Sereneti. You both are such a huge part of why I’m able to do what I do.
My best friend, Karie, who knows me better than I know myself and doesn’t hesitate to come rescue me at midnight whenever I need it.
Kiele, thank you for always keeping me grounded. You are my person.
The C-Mommas for teaching me a game called Confessions. Blythe, Courtney, Dallas, Leeann, Jillian, Lindsay, Sarah, Shasta, Stephanie—for the support and always being my focus group. I love you ladies.
Courtney, thank you for being one of my first beta readers and my reading buddy.
Shasta, you are Queen of the Comma. Thank you for always being willing to answer my grammar questions.
Sarah, thank you for helping me unravel plot tangles and encouraging me.
Lindsay, I’m so blessed to have you as my cheerleader.
Jackie, thanks for the kickass line about being ass up on GMA.
And all the others I’ve lost touch with as our babies grew and life took over, thank you for being my friends.
Thank you to Amanda Heger, D’Ann Lindun, Alice Yu, Cheryl Pitones Rider, Sara Dahmen, Kate Forest, Deb Julienne, Wendi Sotis, and Shannon Patterson for your advice and notes.
Victoria for answering my questions about hospital protocol and medical treatment for fictional characters.
Todd for answering random questions about the legal needs of fictional characters.
Beth for being the best author assistant ever.
L.A. Mitchell for making me believe this dream is possible.
Corinne DeMaagd for all you taught me.
Tera Cuskaden, who championed this book, and the rest of the Entangled team for making it a reality.
The team at Prospect Agency. Very specifically, Linda Camacho and Emily Sylvan Kim.
Linda, I am forever grateful for all you have done for my career.
Emily, thank you for keeping me sane through this process, and answering the abundance of questions I had throughout.
Diane Holiday for being my first line critique partner on this story and for always being available to help me.
C.R. Grissom for always being there for me with a ready ear and a shot of infused vodka.
Deb Smolha, LeAnne Bristow, Sarah Morgenthaler, Miguella T. Twosias, and Anne Morgan for the critiques, beta reads, and friendship.
The amazing Rebelles. I am so blessed to be part of your group.
And, finally, the Romance Chicks.
Dylann Crush.
Jody Holford.
Renee Ann Miller.
There are no words for the gratitude I feel daily for a random Twitter message that turned into life-long friendships with you ladies.
About the Author
Christina Hovland lives her own version of a fairy tale—an artisan chocolatier by day and romance writer by night. Born in Colorado, Christina received a degree in journalism from Colorado State University. Before opening her chocolate company, Christina’s career spanned from the television newsroom to managing an award-winning public relations firm. She’s a recovering overachiever and perfectionist with a love of cupcakes and dinner she doesn’t have to cook herself. A 2017 Golden Heart® finalist, she lives in Colorado with her first-boyfriend-turned-husband, four children, and the sweetest dog around.
ChristinaHovland.com
Twitter.com/HovlandWrites
Facebook.com/HovlandWrites
Instagram.com/HovlandWrites
Goodreads.com/HovlandWrites
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