Table of Contents
Book Description
Other Books By Katie Graykowski
Sweet Susie Sweet
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Other Books By Katie Graykowski
From International Bestselling author Katie Graykowski comes a hilarious tale of love, laughter, and a high velocity potato cannon.
Susie Sweet is out for her early run, she comes across a stranded motorist. When she knocks on the driver’s side door to see if she can help, the driver rolls down the window and she staring into Hollywood’s favorite romcom leading man, Dane Bennett.
Dane Bennett is in Austin to film his latest movie. To get away and think, he takes long drives that usually bring him to rural areas. Nature Photography is his passion and he loves photographing the central Texas countryside. On one of his thinking-drives, his rental car has a blowout. Since he has no idea how to change a tire, he doesn’t have a cell signal, and he’s at least ten miles from the nearest road, he has no choice but to wait in his rental car for someone to come along.
When Dane introducing himself and holds his hand out for Susie to shake, a little zip of attraction tingles up Dane’s arm. He’s never felt that before. Not only is Susie gorgeous, but she’s more fun than he’s had in a very long time.
Susie loves spending time with Dane which is good because he keeps showing up at her house. One day, he hauls off and kisses her. She isn’t prepared for the chemistry they have. Quickly, things become serious. Susie is falling in love with Dane. What happens when filming is over and he returns to his life in Los Angeles?
Dane enjoys every minute he spends with Susie, but his life back in Los Angeles can’t be put on hold forever. He must get back and start doing promo for the movie he just finished. Susie is the vacation he needs from a life he never wanted in the first place. She’s the only real thing in his life.
Can they trust each other enough to make a long-distance relationship work? Will his career get in the way of his happiness? Will she ever show him the secret to the perfect potato cannon?
Fans of Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Rachel Gibson won’t want to miss this laugh out loud funny book.
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Other Books By Katie Graykowski
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ROMANCE
The Lone Stars
Perfect Summer
Saving Grace
Changing Lanes
The Debra Dilemma
Charming Coco
The Marilyns
Place Your Betts
Getting Lucky
Sorry Charlie
Texas Rose Ranch
Texas Rose Forever
Texas Rose Always
Texas Rose Evermore
Texas Rose Forgiven- Out soon
The Fort Worth Wrangers
Lyric and Lingerie
Harmony and High Heels
MYSTERY
Pto Murder Club
Rest In Pieces
Blown To Pieces
Just One Piece
URBAN FANTASY SCI-FI
Time, Inc.
The Navigator -Out Soon
The Tough Ladies
Cold As January
Sweet Susie Sweet
Sweet Susie Sweet
Katie Graykowski
Copyright © 2018 by Katie Graykowski
All Rights Reserved.
Formatting by Anessa Books
No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express, written consent of the copyright holder.
Sweet Susie Sweet is a work of fiction. All characters portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.
For LaVyrle Spencer
Thanks for writing Years and Separate Beds. Your books were my gateway to a lifelong love of reading. Should this book ever fall into your hands, I’d love to hear from you. [email protected]
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Chapter 1
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Susie Sweet never missed a morning run—even when her foot ached from the broken bone she’d gotten at the Cozumel Ironman. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night nor—she touched her frizzy ponytail—early morning humidity would stay her twelve-mile run. She was just like the post office, only she didn’t have anything to deliver and she ran seven days a week. And now that she thought about it, she’d never run in the snow, mainly because Austin didn’t really have any. But she had run in the rain—although not too often, because it didn’t rain much here either. Once, she had run in a tornado, but it was only an F0 and she hadn’t seen the funnel cloud touch down. She’d thought it was just windy until she’d gotten home and turned on the news.
She loved running. It was her passion. It was better than a ganache-covered fudge brownie sundae. Hooray, running! As long as she kept repeating that over and over, she told herself, then her foot wouldn’t hurt.
The truth was, she didn’t love running, but she did love donuts and fried chicken and ice cream. If she didn’t run, people would start confusing her butt with a billboard. On the plus side, she could always rent out advertising space on her backside.
It might be nice to have something to fall back on when she retired from teaching eighth-grade science. It would be ass-vertising. She would make a fortune selling bum-per stickers. That was an idea she could get behind. It was an industry rear-ing to go. She would get in on the bottom floor.
She loved puns almost as much as her eighth graders loved them.
Up ahead, tail lights flashed on the side of the road. She looked around. There was no one for miles. That was one of the reasons she loved running down this two-lane road—usually, she had it all to herself. Having watched one too many horror movies, she was hesitant to stop and help a stranger at—she checked her Apple Watch—4:24 a.m., but if she were broken down somewhere, she hoped someone would stop and help her.
She was sure that whoever was in the car was harmless. It was too early for any self-respecting serial killer to be out. The only people who were up at this time of the day were ranchers, unlucky delivery drivers who’d pulled the early shift, and drunk frat boys who’d wandered off campus.
And triathletes who didn’t have time to train during the day.
Unless … the serial killer was an early bird. After all, the early bird kills the worm.
If she weren’t on the downhill stretch of her twelve miles, she could probably outrun him if he came after her with an ax. Did serial killers still use axes? It didn’t seem like a very efficient way to kill, and it would be overly messy. In any case, if he tried to murder her, she would scratch his face, getting his DNA under her fingernails, and then run away. Adrenaline was an amazing chemical. It had allowed her to run on her broken foot for five miles before she had noticed that it was hurting.
Still, she couldn’t leave a possible non-serial-killer stranded on the side of the road. There was no cell reception here, even from that company that promised ninety-nine percent coverage in the US. Apparently, the one percent was right here.
At least she got to be in the one percent of something.
As she got closer, she could hear the radio. The driver had the window rolled down and Pink was belting out “Beautiful Trauma.” It was too dark to see the car’s make and model, but it looked new
and expensive. Not wanting to scare the possible serial killer, she banged on the trunk.
“Hey!” The driver sounded startled.
“Is everything okay?” Carefully she approached the window but tried to stay far enough away that she was out of ax-swinging range.
“Thank God. You’re the first person I’ve seen in hours.” The voice was male and vaguely familiar. “I have a flat tire and I can’t get ahold of roadside assistance.”
He opened the door and the dome light came on.
She looked down into the caramel-colored eyes of Dane Bennett, Hollywood’s favorite rom-com leading man.
She was about to ask, “Come here often?” but then she thought better of it. He was probably used to women throwing themselves at him and making silly jokes. It was better to just keep things professional. “Can I help in some way?”
“I hope so. My cell doesn’t have a signal and the GPS says the closest highway intersection is seven miles away.” He sounded stressed out.
“Is your car missing the spare?” She walked back to the trunk.
He got out and followed her to the back of the car. “No idea. My assistant always handles the car stuff. Don’t you need a jack or something too? Would that be in the trunk?” He didn’t sound pompous or entitled to being served; he just sounded like he had no idea what was involved in changing a tire. “I tried to google how to change a tire, but I don’t have service.”
“Well, let’s see if we can figure it out.” She could more than figure it out. Growing up on a ranch, she’d changed many a tire and tinkered with many an engine.
“Really? Are you sure? Maybe we should just wait for AAA or the rental car company to send someone. Maybe my agent will send out a search party.” He made that sound like the most sensible plan ever.
“Were you able to contact anyone?” She knelt down and felt around under the car, looking for the spare.
There was silence while he thought about it. “Now I see the flaw in my plan.”
“Yeah, AAA doesn’t do telepathy yet. Maybe next year.” She turned on her watch’s flashlight app and shone the light around the undercarriage. There was nothing but undercarriage. She rolled back on her knees.
He turned his hundred-watt smile on her. If memory served, it was currently selling toothpaste and boxer shorts. He bent down and held out his hand. “I’m Dane, by the way.”
“I’m Susie.” She returned the smile and shook his hand.
He held her hand just a tad too long. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” She glanced down at their linked hands. Should she pull her hand away? “The spare’s not under the car. Let’s pop the trunk.”
He seemed to notice he was still holding her hand and let go.
He walked back to the driver’s-side door. “Any ideas where the trunk lever would be?”
“What kind of car is this?” She was merely curious. It wasn’t like she had the location of every car’s trunk-popping lever memorized. She hopped to her feet.
“It’s a Tesla Model X. Hold up, the key fob fell between the seats.” He knelt down and felt under the seat, giving her a nice view of the butt that sold boxer shorts. “Got it.”
Thank God for the dome light. It would have been a real shame to miss seeing his famous butt up close and in person.
She went back to the trunk and waited for it to open.
He followed her back and clicked the fob. The hood popped open.
“Sorry, that’s the frunk.” He hit another button and the trunk slowly lifted.
“I guess a frunk is a front trunk?” The only frunk she’d ever seen or heard of was on a VW Beetle. “You know what they always say: two trunks are better than one.”
Dane grinned. “I don’t believe you. No one but you has ever said that.”
“Have you ever read A Tale of Two Trunks? ‘It was the best of trunks, it was the worst of trunks.’ You know what else they say: double the trunks, double the fun. Hey, what do you get when you cross an elephant and a Tesla X?”
He shook his head, still grinning. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, what?”
“Triple the trunk space.” It was her turn to shake her head. “Not my best work, I’ll admit.” She launched the flashlight app again and shone the light around the trunk. She pulled up the carpeting, but there was only a little plastic box underneath. She felt around in the trunk. “I don’t get it. You don’t have a spare tire.” She picked up the box. “Maybe it’s a Tony Stark spare?”
“You think Iron Man might be in there ready to change tires?” He grinned like he was having fun despite the circumstances.
“No, you know, a Tony Stark spare—like you push a button and the box turns into a tire.” She pushed the button on the top of the box.
Dane stepped back like he thought it might be a bomb.
The top of the box popped open.
She shone her watch light on it. “It’s a bottle of tire sealant and a small air compressor.” She shone her light on his shredded tire. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work. Why would this car not have a spare? I’m sure this car was expensive. You would think Elon Musk could have forked over the hundred bucks for a spare.”
Dane shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can ask him next time I see him. His house is next to mine in the Caicos. He’s a pretty nice guy.” He didn’t sound arrogant about it—just matter-of-fact.
“At the next neighborhood barbecue, you should definitely ask him why he was too cheap to put a spare in this car.” She tossed the tire repair kit into the trunk and closed it. “I don’t suppose you’d let me take your rental car apart and see how it works?” She threw him her biggest smile in case that helped him make the decision.
“Why do you want to take it apart?” He eyed her like she was a potential carjacker who wanted to sell his car for parts.
“I like to figure out how things work.” Now that she said it out loud, that really wasn’t that compelling of an answer. “Um … how about, it could help create world peace?” When in doubt, take the beauty pageant approach and invoke world peace.
“Answer is still no, but I almost let you change my tire, so there’s that.” That was just a consolation prize and they both knew it.
“Let me see your shoes.” She aimed the beam of light from her watch at his feet.
“Why?” He took a step back like she was going to steal them. He certainly was jumpy. That probably came from living in LA. All that smog and healthy eating must destroy brain cells. She was certain that a life without junk food and chocolate was just like being on death row. You could look out at the happy world beyond the bars, but you could never be a part of it again. Unless he’d never even had junk food before. Now that would be really sad.
“Because we need to run back to my house and call the rental car company.” She shook her head. It didn’t look good. He was wearing some brown leather loafers that looked expensive and uncomfortable. “Maybe I should go by myself.”
“And leave me here to come up with more trunk puns? I don’t think so. I can run. I run.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “How far is it to your house?”
“It’s four miles that way.” She pointed to the road in front of him. “Or two and a half miles that way.” She pointed to the field on the other side of the road.
“I vote for door number two.” He bent over and rolled up his jeans. She wasn’t sure why, but if it made those loafers work better as running shoes, he could roll them all the way up to his thighs.
“We’re going to have to jump the fence. I know you’ve done that before. I saw In the Middle of Love with you and Rachel Mays. You jumped a fence at the end so you could propose to her.” She didn’t know if she should bring up the fact that he was a movie star. She wouldn’t have minded if he brought up her job.
“Funny thing, I actually had a stunt double for that shot.” He closed the driver’s door, locked the car, and then shoved the fob in his front jeans pocke
t.
“Why?” It really wasn’t that dangerous. She waited in the middle of the road for him to catch up.
“Insurance. The fence was barbed wire and the insurance company the studio uses wouldn’t cover the damages if I got hurt.” He followed her to the fence. “This one is also barbed wire.”
“Yep, but there’s a gate right over there. You can climb that.” She pointed to the galvanized-wire gate a hundred yards away.
He nodded. “Good idea.”
“So, what other sleights of hand are in the movies?” It was an interesting question. What were the chances he’d come talk to her class about it?
“Just about everything. The better question is, what’s real?” His eyes glittered in the moonlight. Even out in the middle of nowhere, he looked like he’d just walked off a film set.
Did her eyes glitter? She didn’t think so. It was probably just a movie star thing. Maybe when he got his SAG card, his eyes just magically started glittering.
“Okay then, what’s real?” She’d play along.
“Hopefully, the emotions we try to convey. Everything else … fake.” He finger-combed his hair. Now it looked artfully disheveled.
“Everything? What do you mean?” She ran her hand over her hair. All she got was a sweaty hand. On the plus side, she was able to use the sweat to smooth down the ponytail escapees.
“For starters, the location is usually fake. Like when we’re supposedly filming in China, but really it’s Chinatown in San Francisco.”
“Or like when you tell the audience it’s Dallas, but there are mountains in the background, or worse, tumbleweeds blowing across the road? FYI, the only mountains in Texas are in far West Texas.” She held her hand up. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never seen a tumbleweed.”
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