Books by Jennifer Gracen
Between You and Me
’Tis the Season
Someone Like You
More Than You Know
and novella
Happily Ever After
BETWEEN YOU and ME
Jennifer Gracen
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Books by Jennifer Gracen
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
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
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
About the Author
MORE THAN YOU KNOW
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
’TIS THE SEASON
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Gracen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-4528-1
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4529-8
eISBN-10: 1-4201-4529-0
This book is dedicated to my sons,
Josh and Danny.
You two are the best, most important part of my life, the best things I’ve ever created, and you own the most important piece of my heart. You are kind, smart, loving, funny, vibrant . . . like any proud mom, I could gush over you both for the length of a novel and still not run out of things to say. But for once, I’ll keep it short and sweet.
I thank the stars every day that you’re mine. You are the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. I’m beyond proud of you and love you more than I could ever possibly express.
And no, you’re not allowed to read any of my work until you’re older.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, I am grateful beyond words to the village of magnificent people that got me to this point. But I’ll try to find adequate words.
Never-ending thanks to my editor, the wonderful Esi Sogah. I don’t know how many writers look forward to their editor’s feedback, but I always look forward to yours—like, with glee—knowing you’re going to polish my rough gem into a shining diamond. Working with you is always a pleasure.
Thank you to my agent, Stephany Evans of Ayesha Pande Literary. Your support and level-headed calm always anchor me and make me feel better about all things writing-related. Glad to have you in my corner.
Thank you to everyone at Kensington who has been involved with me and my books—my copy editor, the art department, publicity, marketing—with specific shout-outs to Jane Nutter, Lauren Jernigan, Norma Perez-Hernandez, and Ross Plotkin. I really appreciate what you do.
Thanks to my immediate family: my mom, Linda; my dad, Rob; my brother, Jamie; Natasha, Kyle, Teri, Stevie, and of course my kids. Thank you so much for everything. That you guys are proud of my writing career is pretty cool. I love you all very much.
I’m so lucky to have a network of amazing friends. To all of you, both in person and online, your support, enthusiasm, and kindness helps get me through the days more than you realize. A million thank yous from the bottom of my goopy heart.
Thank you hugs to Nika Rhone, my beta reader extraordinaire. Your insightful feedback combined with your obvious enthusiasm for the story helped me more than you know.
Special hugs and shout-outs to: my online writing group-slash-pseudo family: the FB group The Quillies. To have writing friends who get it, who support and cheer you on, who you can truly trust and be vulnerable with, is a gift. Plus you’re all naughty and make me laugh every day—you are my people, and I love you. Thank you Jeannie Moon and Patty Blount; we have each other. Thank you to the FB group Team Gracen!
Most importantly, boundless thanks to my readers. That you take some time out of your busy lives to read my work means the world to me, and I am deeply grateful. Thank you for your support and for taking this amazing ride with me.
Chapter One
Tess Harrison surveyed the festive scene around her. It was Christmas Day, and over sixty relatives were celebrating at her father’s enormous estate. The mansion, set atop a hill on hundreds of acres beside the Long Island Sound, was filled with the sights and sounds of a picturesque holiday gathering. The grand main living room was decorated elegantly, beautifully, as the staff did every year. No lights—that would be gauche—but red ribbons, garland, holly, and faux white candles made the whole ground floor look like something straight out of a Christmas movie. Bright flames crackled and popped in the enormous stone fireplace, and the eight-foot-tall tree stood majestically in the corner. That did have white lights, and decorative ornaments that went back four generations. Tess suppressed a yawn. She was officially over the holidays.
She cradled her china cup of eggnog and watched her eldest brother, Charles, and his wife, Lisette, sit together on one of the longer sofas as they played with their infant daughter, Charlotte. Tess adored her newest niece, and had spent a lot of time with her. Bonding with that baby had wakened things in Tess she hadn’t known existed. Now five months old, the dark-haired cherub squealed as Charles’s strong arms raised Charlotte up, then back down to kiss her sweet face, over and over, as Lisette smiled brightly at his side. They’d married in May, and the love they shared was tangible. Tess was so glad for them. But oh, how she adored that little girl. Every time Charlotte squeaked, she felt it in her core. Such pure love, such pure joy.
Across from them, Tess’s middle brother, Dane, and his wife, Julia, sat together leisurely and smiled along as they watched too. The baby’s giggles were infectious, and everyone around Charlotte was under her spell. Tess relaxed against the lush cushions of the armchair and sipped her drink. She loved all four of Charles’s kids deeply; they’d brought the kind of light to her life that only children could.
She longed for that kind of light in her life, the kind that children brought.
Charles’s three older children from his first marriage sat huddled in the far corner of the room, playing hand-held video games with some other cousins close to their age. The youngest Harrison, Pierce, and his wife, Abby, were absent, and Tess felt it keenly. But Pier
ce would rather die than spend a family holiday with their father, and gladly went to Abby’s family for every major holiday. Tess couldn’t fault him for that, given the tumultuous history, but she still missed her baby brother.
At least Pierce and Abby had been at Charles’s house the night before. Charles always hosted Christmas Eve, and it had been a lovely gathering. Only twenty people, only closest family, with the exception of the Harrison patriarch . . . which was why it was a lovely gathering. No vitriol, no stress, no walking on eggshells waiting to see who’d fire the first verbal shot that would kick off a horrible fight. Last night had been even more special, though, as Pierce and Abby—who’d just been married in a lavish ceremony in August—shared their surprise news: Abby was pregnant. They’d only found out a few days before and were bursting with it. It was a lot sooner than they’d planned, but they were excited and their joy was palpable. Tess was thrilled for them.
She sipped her eggnog again and gazed at the Christmas tree. The lights blurred as she zoned out and slipped deeper into her thoughts. More than anything, she wanted a baby of her own. There was no reason that she couldn’t make it happen. She was thirty-seven, healthy, wealthy . . . but she lacked a candidate for the father. She had always believed in love, and been deeply in love twice in her life. The second time, she’d come close . . . and then had to break her engagement after being betrayed. In the years since then, she’d hoped to find someone else, but she knew the truth of it: she didn’t trust enough to open her heart that completely again. She dated perfectly nice men, and some not so nice . . . none were a father-to-her-future-children candidate.
And over the last few months, spending time with Charlotte had driven it home more than ever: she wanted children of her own, and time was ticking away.
By Thanksgiving, she’d decided to take matters into her own hands. She had the means, so why not? This was one of the times that being born into a ridiculously wealthy family, along with making her own strong and vital career, gave her benefits and options that other single mothers didn’t have. And while a part of her wanted to talk about it with her brothers . . . most of her wanted to keep it to herself until she was actually pregnant. They’d all have something to say, and for once, she didn’t want to hear it if it was negative. Not from any of them.
“Hey, Tesstastic.” Dane’s jovial voice interrupted her thoughts. “You sure Julia and I can’t convince you to spend a few days with us in Cancun?”
Tess smiled but shook her head. “You’re both sweet to ask, but I don’t need to be a third wheel during your three-week jaunt in paradise.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dane scoffed. “You’re no such thing.”
“Colin is coming for the whole second week,” Julia pointed out. Her grown son from her first marriage was a quiet, kind young man. “We won’t be alone. He’s not worried about being a third wheel.”
“He’s twenty-four,” Tess reminded them. “He’s not worried because he’ll be at the bars and clubs every night trying to pick up women, I’m sure.”
“God, I hope so,” Julia said. “But it’s not a good reason for you not to come too. Come on, who wants to be in New York in January? It’s miserable. Come down for a week.”
“Again, I thank you both,” Tess said. “But I . . . have plans of my own. They would overlap.”
“You do?” Dane arched a brow. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
“I tried, brother dear.” A grin tugged at the corners of Tess’s lips. “You keep asking anyway. Which is sweet, but . . .”
“I think I smell a deflection tactic,” Dane said.
“I think you should leave her be,” Charles piped in. Lisette bit down on her lip.
“It’s so wrong that I want my sister to have some fun?” Dane asked him.
“Of course not,” Tess said.
“You just finished months of hard work, pulling off another massively successful Harrison Foundation Holiday Ball,” Dane said to her. “You need a real vacation. To go somewhere and be pampered. I offered to make that happen, since you don’t do it enough for yourself. Sue me.”
Tess rolled her eyes at her big brother. “I love you too, you big nag.”
“I’m a nag now?” Dane put his hand to his chest. “You wound me!”
They all snorted out laughter.
Tess had had enough of this conversation. She rose to her feet and swept her long curtain of curls back over her shoulders. “I’m getting more eggnog,” she said. “Anyone want some?”
The four of them murmured various forms of “no thanks,” and she crossed the room to the cavernous crystal bowl that held enough lightly spiked eggnog for a small village.
Tess couldn’t help but smile to herself as she refilled her mug. Charles, Dane, and Pierce weren’t just her brothers, they were some of her closest friends. They were incredibly devoted to and protective of her, and she counted on them as much as they all counted on her. After all, she’d spent years watching over the three of them. When their parents split up and their mother left home over two decades before, as the only female left in the family, Tess had slowly but surely slipped into the role of mother hen. Some of it was a conscious decision, some of it wasn’t. She never minded—her brothers needed her, even when they didn’t realize it, and she was all too happy to provide crucial emotional support. She was a caring person, with so much love to give—who better to lavish it on than her own siblings, who needed it so desperately?
But they were all fine now. Grown men, they’d all eventually found their place in the world, especially now that they had the help of good women who loved them and believed in them. Tess was grateful beyond words that she genuinely liked her three sisters-in-law. Charles, Dane, and Pierce were strong men, but pairing with women like Lisette, Julia, and Abby had truly completed them. They had all built, or were building, their own families, and didn’t need Tess’s pseudo-mothering like they had before.
And Tess found herself feeling like something was missing. Despite that she had adoring siblings and family, good friends, a fulfilling career running the Harrison Foundation, the family’s massive nonprofit organization . . . maybe it was the holidays and the slight melancholy that could sometimes accompany the season, but for months she hadn’t been able to deny the basic facts: She was creeping up on forty, she wanted a baby, and she’d somehow have to get that done on her own.
She considered herself to be a positive, upbeat person. A woman who accomplished things, took the lead, and knew how to get things done—she didn’t wait around and let life happen to her. Why should having a baby be any different than her other goals and successes? That thought had churned in her head for too long. It was time to take her future into her own hands. She was ready.
“How’s my best girl?” Her father’s confident baritone sounded behind her.
She turned to him with a fake smile. “Great, Dad. Hope you’re having a nice Christmas?”
“I am,” he said. “Thank you again for the painting. What a special gift.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she said as he kissed her cheek. She’d been able to find a small Picasso piece that she knew he’d love to add to his impressive collection, and called in a favor from an acquaintance in Paris to make it happen.
“You’re very thoughtful, as always.” There was the tiniest shift in his gaze, but Tess knew him so well, she steeled herself. “So. Charles tells me that Pierce got Abby pregnant already. I guess expecting my youngest son to call me himself with that kind of news is too much to hope for, eh?”
“Dad.” Tess touched his arm with her free hand. “He only told us last night. They only found out last week.”
“So? He told you all last night. He could’ve called to tell me, or to say ‘Merry Christmas,’ anytime since then. He hasn’t. Yet another intentional snub.”
“Did you call him to say ‘Merry Christmas’?” Tess asked.
Caught, Charles II scowled and sipped his drink.
“I thought not.” She
gentled her voice to soften the blow, but looked her father right in the eye as she said, “You blew that relationship sky-high two years ago. You attacked him and Abby both. You did that.”
“There were two of us in that fight,” Charles II reminded her, an angry edge to his voice. “But everyone always holds only me responsible.”
“Dad—”
“And they had their big, elaborate wedding,” Charles II barreled on, “and I was shunned! Not even invited to my own son’s wedding, purposely kept away, unwelcome. That was disgraceful.”
She was tired of this argument that always remained unresolved. “I’m not going to get into all this with you now,” Tess said. Her tone was mild, but her words were firm. “I refuse. It’s Christmas.”
He nodded curtly, lips pursed, but grunted, “Fine.”
Tess knew he wouldn’t push it with her then, not with the room filled with extended family on such a major holiday. Since the heart attack last year, at least he’d softened that much. “I’m sorry you’re upset. Just be happy for them. Send a nice gift when the baby’s born. Who, by the way, will be your fifth grandchild.”
Charles scowled. “Pierce will likely keep me away from that child, you know.”
Tess sighed. He was right, of course. But she said, “Maybe by then, if you try and are truly invested, you can attempt to make things better with Pierce somehow.”
Her father snorted derisively. “That stubborn ass will never have it. He holds grudges; it’s one of the few things we have in common. And now he’s going to be a father?” Charles II huffed out a laugh. “Good luck to that baby.”
Between You and Me Page 1
