The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(100)

Should Garrett’s aunt have contacted him about his father’s health, or should it have been Gary’s choice?

Do you think the years apart have made make the sisters’ relationship stronger?

Did Mindy overreact to Linc’s purchase of the shop?

If the helicopter crash hadn’t happened, do you think Brooke and Garrett would have stayed together, or would Brooke’s wanderlust have eventually driven them apart? Or did they need the time apart after the crash to grow and appreciate each other?





Read On


Coming Soon . . . An Excerpt from Wrapped Up in You

And now for a sneak peek at Wrapped Up in You, the latest book in Jill Shalvis’s New York Times bestselling Heartbreaker Bay series. On sale everywhere September 2019.





CHAPTER 1


DIG DEEP


“Stay down.”

No, she would not stay down. Mostly because Ivy Snow didn’t know the meaning of the words. Not once in her hard-knock, scrappy life had she ever “stayed down.” So she popped back up, using a spin and a roundhouse kick to level her opponent.

Her kickboxing partner and friend grinned from flat on her back. “That’s gotta be worth at least a doughnut,” Sadie said. “And you’re buying.”

“Can’t,” Ivy said, eyeing the time. “I’ve gotta get to work.”

Sadie sat up and yawned. “I’ve got an hour, which means I’m going back to bed. And if I’m lucky, Caleb’ll still be in it.”

Caleb was Sadie’s fiancé. Ignoring the little spurt of envy at the thought of having someone waiting in bed for her, Ivy hit the locker room to shower and change. Fifteen minutes later, she left the gym at her very least favorite time of the day, that being six a.m., suitably beaten up by her four-times-a-week kickboxing class.

She shivered. It was February in San Francisco, which meant it could be any weather at all. Today it was forty-five degrees, and she’d forgotten her jacket. She was on a budget, a tight one. But it wasn’t worth freezing to death for a couple of bucks, so she decided to forgo walking and hopped on a bus rather than turn into a human popsicle.

A guy in a suit and sneakers and holding a huge energy drink took the seat next to her, giving her a not-so-discreet once-over. “Morning,” he said.

Yes, she’d just felt a little wistful about not having anyone waiting for her in her bed, but that was fantasy, and Ivy was nothing if not grounded in reality. Especially since she had a habit of going for Mr. Wrong, thanks to a pattern of being attracted to all things bad for her. For someone who prided herself on her sharply honed survival skills, she’d definitely failed herself in the man department. This was in good part thanks to a wanderlust lifestyle and a weakness for sexy grins that promised—and usually delivered—trouble.

But that was all behind her now. She’d promised herself. So she gave the guy a vague not-interested smile and turned away to look out the window. Rude? Maybe. But she was admittedly more than a bit calloused these days and—as every guy she’d ever let get too close had complained—a tough nut to crack. The words cold and scary had also been thrown around.

She didn’t mind. She actually liked it, even as she realized the image went completely against her Disney princess–like moniker, “Ivy Snow.” But hey, it wasn’t like she’d named herself. Her mother had done that, reportedly on some good prescription meds at the time.

At her stop, she exited the bus and walked the last two blocks to work, getting a little happier with each step because one, exercise was over for the day, and two, she loved her job.

For as long as she could remember, her entire life had been temporary. She’d gone to fifteen different schools before getting her GED at age sixteen. As a result, she was a pro chameleon and excelled at temporary—temporary friends, temporary jobs, temporary life. It had suited her for a long time. Until it didn’t.

She’d woken up one day about a year ago and had realized she’d changed. Moving around no longer suited her, and she was over living out of a backpack. So at the dubiously mature age of twenty-eight, she was now trying a new lane. She’d settled in the Cow Hollow District of San Francisco, running a thing called the Taco Truck and living in an apartment that had her name on the lease.

Roots. After a lifetime of running, being invisible, and just barely getting by, she was growing roots. She was going to get the life that until now had only existed for her on TV and in movies. Meaning friends and family, real family who’d stick with her through thick and thin. And maybe . . . maybe even someone to love.

It was unnerving that she was actively working toward the very things that had terrified her for most of her life, but she’d decided she would rather be scared shitless than live with regrets. So she’d learned to put a smile on her face, because everyone knew you had to fake it to make it, right?

The Taco Truck was parked in the alley behind the Pacific Pier building. She kept it there at night thanks to the fact that the owner of the building, Spence Baldwin, loved her food. On workdays, she pulled the truck out to the street at the entrance to the building’s courtyard, always a gamble because her city permit hadn’t yet come through.

She’d just moved the truck out of the alley and parked to set up for the day when her day’s deliveries arrived. She received her preordered inventory and eyed the time. Six thirty. She opened at seven sharp, so she got started chopping ingredients, frying up meats, and arranging the makings for the day’s menu. Her menu. She liked the work. Actually, she loved the work, and her boss wasn’t bad, either. She smiled at that as she worked, because she was the boss. She owned the truck.