ABOUT THE SUMMER DEAL (a standalone Wildstone novel)
Brynn Turner desperately wishes she had it together, but her personal life is like a ping-pong match that’s left her scared and hurt after so many attempts to get it right. In search of a place to lick her wounds and get a fresh start, she heads back home to Wildstone.
And then there’s Kinsey Davis, who after battling serious health issues her entire twenty-nine years of life, is tired of hoping for . . . well, anything. She's fierce, tough, and she’s keeping more than one bombshell of a secret from Brynn -- her long-time frenemy.
But then Brynn runs into Kinsey's best friend, Eli, renewing her childhood crush. The good news: he’s still easy-going and funny and sexy as hell.
The bad news: when he gets her to agree to a summer-time deal to trust him to do right by her, no matter what, she never dreams it’ll result in finding a piece of herself she didn’t even know was missing. She could have real connections, possibly love, and a future—if she can only learn to let go of the past.
As the long days of summer wind down, the three of them must discover if forgiveness is enough to grasp the unconditional love that’s right in front of them.
Brynn Turner had always wanted to be the girl who had her
life together, but so far her talents hadn’t led her in that direction—although
not for lack of trying.
Mentally recapping the week
she’d just endured, she let out a stuttered breath. Okay, so her life skills
needed some serious work, but as far as she was concerned, that was Future
Brynn’s problem. Present Brynn had other things on her mind.
Like surviving the rest of the
day.
With that goal in mind, she kept
her eyes on the road, and three hours and two 7-Eleven hot dogs after leaving
Long Beach in her rearview mirror, she pulled into Wildstone. The place that
reinvented itself many times over since it’d been an 1800s California wild,
wild West town complete with wooden sidewalks, saloons, haunted silver mines,
and a brothel. Sandwiched between the Pacific Ocean and green rolling hills
filled with wineries and ranches, Wildstone had once been her favorite place on
earth.
Parking in the driveway of her
childhood home, she took a minute. It’d been a decade since she’d lived here.
She’d gone off
to
attend college and to conquer the world, though only one of
those
things had happened. She’d been back for visits, but even
that
had been a while. Six months, in fact. She’d stood in this
very
spot and had asked both of her well-meaning
moms
to
butt
out of her life, saying that she knew what she was doing.
She’d had no idea what she was doing.
Note to
self: You still don’t.
With a sigh, she pulled down her
visor and glanced in the mirror, hoping that a miracle had occurred and she’d
see the reflection of someone who had their shit together. Her hair was knotted
on top of her head with the string tie from her hoodie because she’d lost her
scrunchie. She was wearing her old glasses because she’d lost her newer pair.
Her face was pale and her eyes were puffy and red from a bad combo of crying
and not sleeping. She wore yoga pants that hadn’t seen a yoga class since . . .
well, ever, and in spite of being nearly thirty, she had a big, fat zit on her
chin.
In short, she looked about as
far away from having her shit together as she was from solving world hunger.
Knowing her moms—sweet and
loving and nosy
as hell—were going to see right through her, she pawed through her purse for a
miracle. She found some lip gloss that she also dabbed on each cheek for badly
needed color. As a bonus, she found two peanut M&Ms. Couldn’t waste those,
could she? She shook her purse looking for more, but nope, she was out of luck.
The theme of her life.
With a sigh, she once again met her own
gaze in the mirror. “Okay, here’s the drill. You’re okay. You’re good. You’re
happy to be home. You’re absolutely not crawling back with your tail between your legs to admit to
your moms that they were right
about
Asshole Ashton.”
Swallowing hard, she got out of
her hunk-o-junk and grabbed her duffel bag and purse. She’d barely made it to
the porch before the front door was flung open and there stood her moms in the
doorway, some deep maternal instinct letting them know their sole offspring was
within smothering distance.
Both in their mid-fifties, their
similarities stopped there. Olive was pragmatic and stoic, and God help the
person who tried to get anything by her. She was perfectly coifed as always,
hair cut in a chic bob, pants and blazer fitted, giving her the look of someone
who’d just walked out of a Wall Street meeting. In sharp comparison, Raina’s
sundress was loose and flowery and flowing, and she wore beads around her neck
and wrists that made her jingle pleasantly. She was soft and loving, and quite
possibly the kindest soul on earth. And where Olive was economical with her
movements, Raina was in constant motion.
Opposites attract . . .
But actually, her moms did have
something in common beyond their age—their warm, loving smiles, both directed
at Brynn. It was her own personal miracle that they loved her madly, no matter
how many times she’d messed up and driven them crazy with worry.
And there’d been a lot of times.
Too many to count.
“Sweetheart,”
Raina said, jingling as always, bringing forth welcome memories: growing
vegetables in the back garden, taking long walks on the beach to chase
seagulls, and late-night snuggles. Raina opened her arms and Brynn walked right
into them, smiling when Olive embraced her from behind.
The three of them stood there
for a long beat, wrapped up in each other. Catherine the Great Cat showed up,
her appearance forewarned by the bell around her neck. She might be twelve and
seemingly frail and delicate, but as with Brynn’s moms, looks were deceiving.
Just beneath Cat’s skin lived the soul of an ancient prized hunter—hence the
bell. No one blamed her for her instinctual drive to do this, but Raina did
object to Cat dropping “presents” at her feet in the form of cricket heads and
various other pieces of dead insects. Which made Cat the most adorable murderer
who ever lived. She rubbed her furry face against Brynn’s ankles. Once. Twice.
And then bit.
“Ouch!”
“You know her rules,” Olive
said. “A little love, a little hate. It’s how she is. Now tell us why you’re
home unannounced, looking like something not even Catherine would’ve dragged
inside.”
“I think she looks wonderful,” Raina said.
Olive’s eyes never left Brynn.
“She hasn’t been sleeping or
eating.”
“Trust me, Mom, I’ve been eating
plenty.”
“Okay, then you aren’t sleeping
enough or eating the right food.
You’re as pale as . . . well, me.”
Olive indeed had the pale skin
of her English ancestry. In contrast, Raina was Puerto Rican, and golden brown.
Being a product of Raina’s egg and an unknown sperm donor, Brynn’s skin was a
few shades lighter than Raina’s. Unless she was trying not to hyperventilate,
of course. Like now. In which case she was probably even whiter than Olive.
“We can fix the eating right and
sleeping, for a start,” Raina said with determination. She slipped her hand
into Brynn’s, and as she’d been doing for as long as Brynn could remember, she
took over. She settled Brynn onto the couch with one of her handmade throws,
and in less than five minutes had a tray on Brynn’s lap with her famous vegan
chickpea noodle soup and steaming gingerroot tea.
“Truth serum?” Brynn asked, only
half joking. Raina was magic in the kitchen—and at getting people to spill their guts.
“I don’t need truth serum.”
Raina sat next to her. “You’re going to tell me everything.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I made almond-butter
cups for dessert and you love almond-butter cups.”
“You’d withhold dessert from
your only child?”
“She wouldn’t, she’s far too
kind,” Olive said. “But I would. In a heartbeat.” She sat on the coffee table
facing Brynn. “Talk.”
From THE SUMMER DEAL by Jill Shalvis, published by
William Morrow. Copyright © 2020 by Jill Shalvis. Reprinted courtesy of
HarperCollinsPublishers https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062897916/the-summer-deal/
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ABOUT JILL SHALVIS
New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s bestselling, award-winning books wherever romances are sold and visit her website, www.jillshalvis.com, for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-
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