by Lisa Plumley
RECONSIDERING RILEY
by
Lisa Plumley
Smashwords Edition
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previously published by Kensington Publishing
GIRLY GIRL…
Jayne Murphy is a woman on top. From trendy haircut to perfect pedicure, she’s a vision of city-smart style, wrapped around the brains and intuition that made her very first book a bestseller. The truth is, Jayne’s relationship manual, Heartbreak 101, was inspired by her all-too-personal experience with gorgeous, capable…outdoorsy…photojournalist Riley Davis, who stole her heart—and promptly skipped town with it. Now, by way of researching her next project, Jayne’s organized a workshop for dumpees. But it becomes apparent that the “retreat” she’s planned could be hell on her high heels—and her heart—when the leader for her group’s weeklong nature jaunt turns out to be none other than a certain…
…GOODBYE GUY
Riley has no idea he planted the seeks for Heartbreak 101, much less that Jayne’s the guru whose devotees he’ll be leading through the wilderness. He does know that helping his grandparents run their rustic Arizona lodge is only a temporary respite from the wanderlust that led him away from her, back into a life of nonstop adventure—and loneliness. Jayne’s version of “roughing it” reminds Riley all over again how different they are…and how much he’s missed her. The challenge now isn’t just getting everyone out of the woods in one piece, but making sure that Jayne’s next book has a happily-ever-after ending…
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Copyright © 2014 by Lisa Plumley
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, then please respect the hard work of this author by purchasing your own copy. Thank you!
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USA TODAY bestselling author Lisa Plumley has delighted readers worldwide with more than three dozen popular novels. Her work has been translated into multiple languages and editions, and includes contemporary romances, western historical romances, paranormal romances, and a variety of stories in romance anthologies. Her fresh, funny style has been likened to such reader favorites as Rachel Gibson, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, LaVyrle Spencer, and Jennifer Crusie, but her unique characterization is all her own.
Visit Lisa at her website, www.lisaplumley.com, follow her on Twitter @LisaPlumley, connect with her official Facebook page at www.facebook.com/lisaplumleybooks, or circle her on Google+ at www.google.com/+Lisaplumley today!
Lisa also writes cozy mysteries as Colette London. Her Chocolate Whisperer series (featuring chocolate expert—and amateur sleuth!—Hayden Mundy Moore) kicked off with Criminal Confections and Dangerously Dark and continues with The Semisweet Hereafter in October 2016, all from Kensington Books.
Visit www.colettelondon.com today to sign up for updates on Colette’s books, catch all the news on Facebook at facebook.com/colette.london.books, follow @Colette__London on Twitter, or circle her on Google+ at http://google.com/+Colettelondonbooks today.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Note from the Author
Email Reminders
What People Are Saying…
Series Books by Lisa Plumley
Complete Book List: Lisa Plumley
Cozy Mysteries by Lisa Plumley (writing as Colette London)
Complete Book List: Colette London
RECONSIDERING RILEY
by
Lisa Plumley
Chapter One
Jayne Murphy hadn’t intended to tackle the rugged Northern Arizona wilderness armed with not much more than pink stilettos, a tin of Altoids, and two hardcover copies of Heartbreak 101: Getting Over The GoodBye Guys. But when she arrived at the Hideaway travel adventure lodge shortly before noon on the sunny Monday morning that was to begin her weeklong trip, it became immediately clear to Jayne that intentions didn’t necessarily mean a thing.
Reality, on the other hand, did.
And Jayne’s reality included none of the things she’d been prepared for. Where were the valets? she wondered as the airport shuttle jolted to a stop in a cloud of red dust. Where were the private spa cabins, the chic outdoorsy breakfast tables, the back-to-nature Jacuzzis?
In their places were a lot of boulders, a hand-lettered “parking” sign, two picnic tables beneath the trees, and a single long, low building accented with smaller outbuildings. It looked like Abe Lincoln’s summer home. Like Frontierland come to life. Like, like—Jayne took a deep breath and fought back her panic at being thrust unexpectedly into such hardscrabble surroundings, trying hard to fit the scene into her personal frame of reference—like a grunge-meets-L.L. Bean ad layout.
Minus the glossiness, of course.
She swiveled in her seat toward the van driver who’d transported her and her five companions from the airport in Sedona. “Is this the gatehouse? The garage?” She couldn’t keep the hopefulness from her voice. Maybe Arizonans envisioned the standard two-and-a-half car number differently than she did. “Someone’s private residence?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am. This here’s the lodge.”
“The Hideaway Lodge?”
“The very same.”
Jayne frowned in confusion. Her publicist had led her to believe the Hideaway Lodge was about as rustic as the Ralph Lauren department at Macy’s. She couldn’t help but feel a little misled.
“And home base for you ladies for the next week, I understand.” The driver pulled out the keys and tossed them jauntily in the air before catching them. “Welcome to the back country.”
His door creaked as he opened it. He jumped out, ostensibly to retrieve their luggage. That was when Jayne realized he wasn’t kidding. This really was It.
Faced with the truth—that the research for her next book was going to take place here in PaulBunyanville and that a compensatory sea salt aromatherapy rub followed by a champagne cool down was unlikely at most—she rallied her spirits and prepared to make the best of things.
After all, there was a lot riding on this week’s activities. Her whole future depended on what happened here in Arizona. And now that she’d discovered where that future lay, Jayne intended to grab every opportunity with both pink-manicured hands. Starting this minute.
“Okay, ladies.” Moving into full leadership mode, she raised her voice to gain the attention of the five chattering women on the van’s bench seats behind her. Simultaneously, she pulled a compact from her handbag. “This is it. The beginning of the next chapter of your life: breaking free!”
Everyone cheered. The driver, hauling bags from the storage area behind the final seat, shook his head.
“You’re about to make your entrance into that new life. Compacts at the ready!” With a swift look, Jayne confirmed that each woman had withdrawn the leopard-print pressed-powder compact she’d been issued. “Okay…primp!”
Nose-tickling powder pouffed into the air, sent adrift by the force of six puffs diligently in action. Various perfumes filled the spaces between the seats. Lipsticks were passed, mouths puckered, hair fluffed. Finally, Jayne surveyed her own reflection, blew a kiss into the mirror, and snapped her compact shut. A series of echoing clicks followed.
“What’s our motto?”
“If you look good, you feel good!”
The ladies’ enthusiastic response made Jayne smile. Obviously, the mini-orientation session she’d held while waiting in Phoenix for their connecting flight here had paid off. Satisfied, she complimented everyone on their efforts.
There was nothing better, she thought as she gave her c
harges a fond look, than helping people in need.
“All right, then. Let’s go!”
“Yay!”
Ready or not, Jayne led the charge. Opening the van’s passenger-side door, she thrust her T-strap stilettos bravely into the high-desert air. She touched the reddish dirt with her toes. She grabbed her handbag and both books she’d brought, then emerged into the sunlight with a smile on her face.
The adventure was about to begin.
Ten minutes later, the adventure had yet to begin, and Jayne was getting a little worried. Not that she meant to show it. Her ladies’ sense of confidence and well-being depended on her, and she wasn’t going to let them down.
Luckily, she’d brought enough luggage to see them through any contingency…even, as was the case right now, the mysterious absence of their lodge hosts.
The place was as deserted as a Thanksgiving swimwear sale. No one had answered their knock at the Hideaway Lodge’s locked front door. No one had answered their cell phone call to the number Jayne’s publicist had listed on her itinerary. No one had arrived in their driver’s wake and explained the whole mess while handing out complimentary bottles of Evian and creatively-assembled finger foods.
More’s the pity, Jayne decided. She really could have used a little nosh. Maybe some of those cream cheese stuffed cherry tomatoes, or a nice mini quiche Lorraine. She hadn’t had a bite since breakfast—but with only airport food available, who could blame her? Her favorite blueberry frappe bath gel was probably more edible than the average stuff served up between concourses.
She’d been looking forward to the lunch she’d thought would undoubtedly await them at the lodge. Instead, Jayne’s stomach rumbled as she traversed—yet again—the distance between the lodge’s front door and their assembly in the parking lot.
Seated on various pieces of Jayne’s hard-sided signature-baby-blue luggage, the women all looked to her for guidance. The game of gin rummy being played atop her steamer trunk of shoes came to a stop.
“Still no answer.”
They drooped. Grudgingly, the players resumed their game. Although Jayne didn’t know any of them well yet, their disappointment tugged at her.
“But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. I’ll see what I can do.”
For privacy, she strode into the shadow of a semi-crumpled pickup truck with its hood raised. Careful not to brush her close-fitting baby blue print silk shirtdress against the vehicle’s grimy exterior, she took out her cell phone and dialed. Her publicist answered on the third ring.
“Francesca? It’s Jayne. Listen, about this research trip you planned—”
“Jayne! Great to hear from you! How are things in the Southwest?”
Jayne covered her phone-free ear, the better to hear Francesca speaking from her noisy Snap Books cubicle in faraway—and blissfully civilized—New York City. “They’re…unexpected. This Hideaway Lodge is—”
“Rustic, yes? Charming? Quiet? All the things you’re going to need to work on that next blockbuster for us. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got every detail covered.”
That was what worried her. “When you said you were sending me and my workshop participants on an ‘adventure travel trip’ to get away from it all, I thought that was just one of those sayings. You know. Like ‘instant classic,’ or ‘wash-and-wear hair.’” She tossed her own shoulder-length tresses in frustration. “I think they actually have outhouses in this place!”
Francesca hooted. “Those didn’t show up on the website picture when I was scouting locations for you.”
“I think you mistook them for the guest cabins.”
“Hmmm. Maybe. There were several of them….”
Jayne didn’t want to speculate on the reasons for that. “All I wanted was someplace private and serene. Someplace where my workshop participants wouldn’t be bothered by reminders of the problems they were leaving behind.”
“By which you mean the ‘goodbye guys.’ The ex-boyfriends.”
“And ex-husbands, ex-lovers, ex-unforgettable-one-night-stands. Yes.”
Jayne’s gaze fell on the two hardbound books—copies of the book she’d actually written—stacked on a nearby boulder to give her handbag a clean spot to rest. Heartbreak 101: Getting Over The GoodBye Guys was her claim to fame and the key to her newfound purpose, all in one. If its follow-up workbook was going to be half as successful, she needed to make Francesca understand her dilemma.
“Most of these women have spent the time since their break ups in full phone-hovering mode,” Jayne explained, “hoping to hear from Mr. Wrong again. Or dropping by their old hangouts, expecting to ‘accidentally’ run into him. It’s self-destructive, and it’s not part of my plan. So while being out of town certainly is part of my plan, for this to really work—”
“You need someplace like the Hideaway Lodge,” Francesca interrupted. “It’s secluded, it’s quiet, and it only has one public phone—a half-hour hike from the lodge. It’s perfect.”
“It’s deserted.”
There was a verbal shrug in Francesca’s voice. “The owners are a sweet older couple. They bought the place after the husband retired. Probably they’re just out for their afternoon constitutional or something.”
“‘Afternoon constitutional?’”
“Or something. They’re expecting you, after all.” Briskly, Francesca went on. “Look, we’re putting a big push behind this breakup guide and workbook idea of yours. It’s already on the schedule for next spring. You’ve got to deliver. If you have a problem with the way we’re supporting you…”
The unvoiced alternative was clear. Jayne could practically hear her current book contract—and all the contracts she hoped would follow it—shrivel into dust and blow away. If she didn’t make a success of this, she’d be back working full time in the art department at the San Francisco advertising agency she’d taken a sabbatical from.
Even worse, her book’s followers would be out in the cold. Including the five women waiting for her across the dirt ruts.
“I’ll manage,” she promised, crossing her fingers for luck. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.” Francesca went over a few additional details about a possible local talk show appearance, then signed off with some encouragement about “roughing it.” At the last instant, she added, “Oh, and don’t worry about the hiking part, either. You’ll do fine. Byeee!”
Click. Tilting her head as the publicist hung up, Jayne blinked. Hiking part? What hiking part?
She glanced down at her shoes. Made of pink leather with three-inch heels and a tiny bow at the T-strap’s juncture, they managed to say cute and sassy with nothing more than a flash of ankle. They did not, however, say hike. In fact, Jayne was pretty sure none of her shoes spoke Hike. Ever.
Well, she’d just have to deal with that when the time came. Until then, she had a group of breakup-ees to help: Mitzi, a waitress from Michigan; Carla, a student from New Mexico; Doris and Donna, sixty-something sisters from California; and Kelly, a data analyst from Washington state.
She gathered her things and went back to them. They looked up at her expectantly.
Sudden nervousness pushed through her, tightening Jayne’s grip on her handbag and books. Who was she to offer advice to these women? She wasn’t a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a therapist or a relationships counselor. She wasn’t even a bona fide expert. She was just a girl who’d had her heart broken one too many times…and lived to tell about it. What if she couldn’t do this?
For the sake of her group, she mustered a confident smile. “The lodge owners should be back any minute.” She hoped. “Until then, does anyone have any questions?”
Carla, a petite brunette with a pierced nose, raised her hand. “Umm, yeah. I have a question.”
“Great!” Encouraged, Jayne tilted her head, ready to discuss break up recovery strategies, healing methods, and anything else outlined in her book. “What is it?”
“Can I borrow your cell phone?”
/> “Me, too!”
“Me, too, please.”
“Me, next.”
“No, me, Donna!” Doris complained, elbowing her gray-haired sister. “You always get to go first.”
Amid the hubbub, Jayne sat on the shoe trunk beside Carla. She put her hand on her shoulder. “Who do you want to call?” she asked gently.
Everyone quieted.
“My Paolo. If I could just, like, hear his voice on the answering machine, one more time. I mean—” Carla glanced upward, meeting Jayne’s concerned gaze. “—what if this trip really works, and I’m over him by the time I get back?”
Biting her lip, she hugged herself. Mitzi and Kelly did, too. Even Doris and Donna abandoned their luggage-bound shoving match to listen.
They were afraid, Jayne realized. Afraid of the unknown, afraid of letting go, afraid of moving forward. She understood.
She’d been there, too.
“I know a part of you doesn’t want this to work,” she said. “A part of you wants to hang on. But if your relationship’s ended, it’s ended, and you have to accept that. Getting over him—whether his name’s Paolo or Hank or Marty—”
Doris and Donna gave a joint telltale cry.
Jayne nodded encouragingly. “—or anything else—will be for the best. It really will.”
Kelly adjusted her rectangular-framed eyeglasses. “How can you be sure?”
Jayne closed her eyes. She didn’t want to get personal with this. She really didn’t. But if it would help….
“I’m sure because I’ve lived it. My heart was broken—” Just like her voice, when she spoke of it. She cleared her throat and went on. “—not so long ago, and I got past it. I came up with some strategies that helped. Eventually, I passed them on to my girlfriends, and they helped them, too. One thing led to another, somebody suggested I write them down, and…voilà! A book.”
She thumped the topmost copy of Heartbreak 101 in her hand. The women all brightened.
“You have a gift,” Mitzi said seriously, popping a bubble in her gum. “A genuine knack for helping people.”
Nods all around. It was Jayne’s turn to brighten.
