California Girls(121)

    Would you ever carry a baby for someone else? Why or why not? What would you think if your daughter, sister or close friend agreed to carry someone else’s baby? How would you advise her? How would you support her?

    Ali struggled with feelings of invisibility all her life. Could you relate to that? Do you think her parents really did each have a favorite child, or did Ali misinterpret that? Explain your thoughts. How did falling in love with Daniel change her view of herself?

    What did you think about Daniel when he first appeared in the book? Did your feelings about him change as you continued to read?

    What surprised you about California Girls? What made you laugh? Which scenes brought tears to your eyes?

    With which sister do you share the most in common? Give some examples.

    Although Mary Jo wasn’t a point-of-view character in the book, she certainly made her perspective very clear. Why do you think she wanted grandchildren so much? What did you think of the way the story resolved for her, reuniting with a lost love and getting a grandchild in a most unexpected way?

    What lessons did you take away from this book, if any? Did it make you think about your own life in a different way? How so?

    Susan Mallery has a long-standing promise to her readers that every book she writes will end in a satisfying way, with the main characters in a better place at the end than they were at the beginning (and lots of surprises along the way). Unusually, in California Girls, that meant that Finola got a divorce. Do you think that was the right ending for Finola’s story? Why or why not? What about the other sisters? Did Zennie and Ali get the endings they deserved?



#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery delivers a heartfelt new novel about twin sisters overcoming their disastrous love lives and finding their true happiness.

Enjoy this preview of The Summer of Sunshine & Margot.





Summer of Sunshine & Margot

by Susan Mallery





Chapter One


Social interactions fell into two categories—easy or awkward. Easy was knowing what to say and do, and how to act. Easy was witty small talk or an elegant compliment. Awkward social interactions, on the other hand, were things like sneezing in your host’s face or stepping on the cat or spilling red wine on a white carpet. Or any carpet, for that matter. Margot Baxter prided herself on knowing how to make any situation fall into the easy category. Professionally, of course. In her professional life she totally kicked butt. Personally—not so much. If she were being completely honest, she would have to admit that on most days her personal life fell firmly in the awkward category, which was why she never mixed business and pleasure and rarely bothered with pleasure at all. If it wasn’t going to go well, why waste the time?

But work was different. Work was where the magic happened and she was the one behind the curtain, moving all the levers. Not in a bad way, she added silently. Just that she was about empowering her clients—helping them realize it was all about confidence, and sometimes finding confidence required a little help.

She turned onto the street where her nav system directed her, then blinked twice as she stared at the huge double gates stretching across a freeway-wide driveway. She’d been told the private residence had originally been a monastery built in the eighteen hundreds, but she hadn’t expected it to be so huge. She’d been thinking more “extra-big house with a guest cottage and maybe a small orchard.” What she faced instead was a three-story, Spanish-style former church/monastery with two turrets, acres of gardens and an actual parking lot for at least a dozen cars.

“Who are these people?” she asked out loud, even as she already knew the answer. Before interviewing a potential client, she always did her research. Overdid it, some would say, a criticism she could live with. Margot liked being thorough. And on time. And tidy. And, according to some, annoying.

Margot pressed the call button on the electronic pad mounted perpendicular to the gate and waited until a surprisingly clear voice said, “May I help you?”

“I’m Margot Baxter. I have an appointment with Mr. Alec Mcnicol.”

“Yes, Ms. Baxter. He’s expecting you.”

The gates opened smoothly and Margot drove through onto the compound. She parked in one of the marked spots, then took a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts.

She could do this, she told herself. She was good at her job. She liked helping people. Everything was going to be fine. She was a professional, she was trained and she was calm. Calm-ish, she added silently, then reached for the glasses she’d put on the seat next to her briefcase.

Margot stepped out of her car and smoothed the front of her slightly too-big jacket. The outfit—gray suit, sensible pumps, minimal makeup—was designed to make her appear professional and competent. The glasses, while unnecessary, did a lot to add gravitas to her appearance. She was thirty-one, but in shorts and a concert T-shirt, she could pass for nineteen. Even more depressing, in said shorts and T-shirt, she looked ditzy and incompetent and just a little bit dumb, and that didn’t reassure anyone.

She walked up the stone path to the enormous front door. Although she knew nothing about Spanish architecture, she wanted to trace the heavy carved wood doors where angels watched over Christ as he carried the cross toward a hill. Yup, the big-as-a-stadium building really had once been a monastery and apparently the monks had been sincere in their worship.