by Lia Riley
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Blurb
ACCLAIM FOR LIA RILEY’S NOVELS
Previously by Lia Riley
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
It Happened on Love Street
Excerpt from Black Fence
Chapter One
Chapter Two
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Newsletter
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Don’t I?” Beau’s voice held a husky edge.
The boat rolled again, this time the hull creaking. This time Tuesday barely registered the motion. A body could only hold so much emotion. His cool gaze locked on her face.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
He leaned forward as if to stand, then snapped his head back.
“This.” He grabbed her in his arms and his mouth found hers right as the boat rolled on another breaker. They went flying back onto the mattress.
His lips tasted like butterscotch, and he braced his weight, holding himself over her like a surprised shelter.
She also got an overwhelming feeling of safety…even as his kisses became more dangerous by the second.
“I can’t be near you and not do this,” he growled into her mouth.
ACCLAIM FOR LIA RILEY’S NOVELS
IT HAPPENED ON LOVE STREET
“Witty banter, sizzling chemistry, and a romance that captured my heart!” —Jennifer Ryan, New York Times bestselling author
“In this thoroughly delightful novel, the sexual tension is steamy, the plot engaging, the characters always entertaining, the dialogue witty, and the situations often hilarious. This tale is certain to make readers smile, laugh outright, and sigh dreamily. In short, it has everything a reader is looking for in a romance.”
—BookPage
“Big-city girl meets her match in a tiny Georgia town filled with quirky characters, legends, secrets, and puppies in Riley’s Everland, Georgia, series debut. The stars . . . are skillfully done. The feud between the two towns and a buried treasure subplot make this laugh-out-loud funny.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Thanks to friendly townspeople, crotchety Scrabble players at the dog park, and an irrepressible younger sister, even city dwellers will see the appeal of falling in love while stranded in a small Southern coastal town.”
—Publishers Weekly
WITH EVERY BREATH
“In this emotionally charged contemporary the protagonists’ personal struggles for self-worth and redemption develop into pulse-pounding adventure and breath-stopping romance. . . . This novel will delight [Riley’s] fans and new readers alike.”
—Publishers Weekly
UPSIDE DOWN
“Fresh, sexy, and romantic, Upside Down will leave you wanting more. I cannot wait for the next book. Lia Riley is an incredible new talent and not to be missed!”
—Kristen Callihan, award-winning author of
the Darkest London series and The Hook Up
“Upside Down is a refreshing and heartfelt new adult contemporary romance.”
—USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog
“Lia Riley turned my emotions upside down with this book! Fast paced, electric, and sweetly emotional!”
—Tracy Wolff, New York Times and
USA Today bestselling author
“Where to even start with this book? Beautifully written, Australia, hot surfer Bran, unique heroine Talia. Yep, it’s all just a whole lot of awesome. Loved it!”
—Cindi Madsen, USA Today bestselling author
“A rich setting and utterly romantic, Upside Down will have you laughing and crying and begging for it to never end. I absolutely loved it!”
—Melissa West, author of Pieces of Olivia
“Upside Down is a brilliantly written new adult romance that transported me to another country. With vivid imagery and rich characterizations . . . I was completely smitten with the love story of Bran and Talia. I cannot wait for the rest of their story!”
—Megan Erickson, author of Make It Count
SIDESWIPED
“I could feel the tension with every page. . . . The Off the Map series by Lia Riley is probably my favorite new adult series of the year.”
—Roxy’s Reviews
INSIDE OUT
“Riley writes a captivating story from beginning to breathtaking end.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
Previously by Lia Riley
Off the Map
Upside Down
Sideswiped
Inside Out
Carry Me Home
Into My Arms
Wanderlust
With Every Breath
Everland, Georgia
It Happened on Love Street
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Lia Riley
Excerpt from It Happened on Love Street copyright © 2017 by Lia Riley
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner.
Cover photography © Shutterstock.
Cover copyright © 2017 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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To Bronte…I’m so proud that you’ve learned to read—way to go! Someday you can even read this book, but all in good time, big girl.
Acknowledgments
First up, big thanks to Michele “Emotion Whisperer” Bidelspach for always spotting authentic ways to deepen every story—you are such a talent, and it’s an absolute pleasure to work with you. To Emily Sylvan Kim—I’m proud to call you both an agent and a friend. To PB&J—who have learned to yell in my ear when I’m drafting to get my attention…I’m a little deaf, but I love you. To Nick—you are my forever and always, and here’s to another eleven years (and many more). To my writer friends who keep me sane each and every day—Jennifer Blackwood, Jennifer Ryan, Chanel Cleeton, A. J. Pine, Megan Erickson, Natalie Blitt, and Jules Barnard. To my readers—there are lots and lots of books in the world; thanks for picking up mine.
Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.
—Neil Gaiman
Chapter One
Owning a pair of heels that went with everything was convenient, except when they blended into the background like chameleons.
“Where are my glass slippers?” Tuesday Knight scanned her bedroom. They could be hidden anywhere beneath the chaotic avalanche of maxi dresses, celebrity magazines, bohemian scarves, and Lindt chocolate ball foils.
Her twelve-year-old Boston terrier emerged from beneath the quilt piled at the end of her unmade bed.
“Any bright ideas?” Tuesday asked, shoving a loose bobby pin deeper into her French twist.
J. K. Growling spluttered a snort as a rooster crowed from deep beneath the mess. Tuesday hiked up the skirt of her fuchsia ball gown, kicking items left and right. That crow was her nine o’clock backup alarm, the one that meant “Leave now or you’ll be late.”
A vague memory started to take shape as she plucked her iPhone from beneath a back issue of Vanity Fair. Last night, following a ten-hour shift as Happily Ever After Land’s newest princess host, she’d collapsed on the couch—ears ringing from the carousel’s Wurlitzer band organ—to play a game of Oregon Trail.
Of course!
She tore down the hall, skidding to a stop in the living room doorway, and punched the air. Sure enough, the glass—or rather, plastic—slippers, were propped atop a throw pillow. Right where she’d shucked them off after dying of dysentery at mile eight hundred and forty on that stupidly addictive phone app.
A rhinestone-encrusted tiara twinkled from atop the coffee table book Broadway Musicals: The 99 Best Shows of All Time. Tuesday plopped it on her head, adjusted her bodice over her nonexistent bosom, and shoved her feet into the smidge-too-tight heels. Good to go.
J. K. Growling peered around the corner with a bemused expression.
“It’s not easy being a princess.” Tuesday gave her a good-bye head pat. “But if the shoe fits…”
Opening the front door, she paused, struck, as usual, by Everland’s quiet. Manhattan had been a noisy symphony of jackhammers, cab horns, loud neighbors, and police sirens. Here the coastal breeze rustled the hundred-year-old live oaks lining the shady street, dripping moss from thick, gnarled branches. A bird sang. A dog barked. A neighbor tuned a mandolin on a front porch swing.
Just another September morning in small-town Georgia.
Her orange car—Pumpkin—started on the third try, the gas light blinking on. Forehead, meet steering wheel. Her least favorite game was playing “How Low Can You Go” with her gas tank.
But there wasn’t a choice. She didn’t have enough funds in her checking account to afford a refuel, not after giving Lettie Sue, a park waitress, her last hundred bucks before tomorrow’s payday.
Yesterday, the single mom had broken down in the staff room over her inability to cover next week’s day care bill. Afterward, Tuesday had snuck to the snack bar to make an ATM withdrawal and had left an anonymous envelope in her coworker’s locker.
She didn’t regret giving the hardworking woman a single penny, but the impulsive decision couldn’t derail her obligations. In twenty minutes she was hosting a field trip for Foster Friends, a local children’s charity. If she didn’t dillydally she’d have enough in the tank to get to work and home.
It Came Down to Fumes and a Prayer: The Tuesday Knight Story.
A sudden movement caught the corner of her eye. Her big sister, Pepper, and her sister’s fiancé, Rhett, staggered from the house next door, a laughing tangle of limbs and leashes. Between them, the happy couple owned four dogs. At the start of summer Pepper had moved to Everland for an ill-fated legal clerkship. After losing her job on day one, she’d detoured into what had turned out to be the right direction, finding work as a dog walker and falling head over strappy sandals for the hot vet next door. Now she was spearheading the opening of Everland’s rescue shelter as the new executive director.
“Hey, you!” Pepper glanced at her thin wristwatch, brows wrinkling beneath fashionably cut side-swept bangs. “Aren’t you running late?”
“Yup.” Tuesday restrained a grimace. The one drawback to living next door to such a capable, successful sister was frequently feeling like a hot mess. She cupped a hand to her mouth. “Lost my shoes.”
“Again?” No surprise registered on Pepper’s pretty face. They played their respective roles well, the responsible, dependable, reliable one versus the free-spirited, walking disaster. But when Tuesday’s world in New York City had spun out of control, she’d headed straight here. Her big sister was true north even in the Deep South.
“Are we going to see you tonight?” Rhett called. They were hosting a potluck dinner around the theme of “Southern comfort.” Pepper had entrusted her with the napkins. It wasn’t meant as an intentionally insulting gesture, but unintentionally? That was a whole other story.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Tuesday cracked a tight smile before driving away. Downtown Everland was more or less deserted this time of morning. The lovingly restored buildings dated back to the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, but the town was more than a hodgepodge of bright awnings, mom-and-pop-style storefronts, and cheerful planter boxes. The charm lay not just in the brick and mortar, but also the bighearted, warm, and welcoming (if eccentric) citizens.
A bay window etched with the words “What-a-Treat Candy Boutique” stenciled in calligraphy caught the morning light. She gasped as today’s date hit home. It was What-a-Treat’s owner Ginger Reed’s thirtieth birthday. For a week Ginger had been informing customers that she was preparing to enter a mystical time warp whereupon she’d remain twenty-nine forever.
Kitty-corner to the shop sat city hall, the imposing brick building framed by a profusion of late-summer flowers. “Perfect.” She slammed on the brakes. If she hustled, she could pick a quick bouquet for her friend and leave it in front of the candy shop’s door as a surprise.
She climbed from Pumpkin and raced over the damp lawn, crouching beneath an office window to grab Shasta daisies, goldenrod, and a few begonias. The blooms were vibrant, just like her new friend. In fact, they looked so pretty she picked a few more, and just a few more, and what the heck, now that she had this much, she might as well go the whole hog. After all, forever is a long time to stay twenty-nine.
A throat cleared behind her.
“Morning!” She squinted at a security guard, backlit by the bright morning sun. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be out of your hair in a sec.”<
br />
“Well, Miss Knight, it’s like this, see…” He shuffled from side to side. “There’s been a report of vandalism.”
“Really?” She glanced around, half expecting a lurker to be slinking from oak to oak, clutching a spray paint can. “Graffiti? Arson? Broken windows?”
The man removed his blue cap and studied the embroidered brim with particular attention before mumbling under his breath.
“Theft?” she repeated, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. “Who’s dumb enough to steal in plain daylight?”
The security official grimaced. “The complaint was about you destroying city vegetation.”
“Who gives a flying fig if I pick a few flowers?” The drape twitched in the window above, and her core temperature dropped. She pursed her lips. “Tell me, whose office is that?”
Dumb question.
“Mayor Marino requested that you be informed this space is Everland public property and not your own private garden.”
“For Pete’s sake.” Her laugh was incredulous. The locals here were as charming as their town except in one respect. Their mayor had a stick shoved far up his (admittedly fine) ass.
“One more thing, ma’am.” The security guard swallowed hard and adjusted his belt buckle over his straining belly. “I’m supposed to confiscate the flowers.”
“Come on. They’re picked.” She waved the gorgeous bouquet under the security guard’s nose. “The damage is done.”
“Orders are orders, ma’am.”
She glanced at the clock tower. “Crap. Is that the time?” Forget getting all “no justice, no peace.” The foster kids would arrive in five minutes. “Fine. Here.” She shoved the blooms into his arms. “Give these to the mayor with my regards.”
“He’s left the premises on official business.”
“Well, inform him upon his return that he’s officially a jerk.” She fumed back to her car. Last week she’d taken J. K. Growling for a walk in the rain. They’d been minding their own beeswax, splashing in ankle-deep puddles on Love Street, when Beau Marino had driven by with a face like she was you-know-what stuck to the bottom of his shoe. He’d rolled down the window and told her she was jaywalking.
