by: Traci Douglass
Series: Wyckford General Hospital
Genre: Contemporary Medical Romance
Release Date: July 25, 2023
Publisher: Harlequin Medical Romances
When the hotshot surgeon returns to her hometown, she never expects to run into the single dad again…or for their attraction to still be this powerful! Find out what happens in the latest Harlequin Medical Romance novel by Traci Douglass.
Her temporary return…
Their explosive reunion!
Hotshot plastic surgeon Cassandra is unexpectedly back in her small hometown. And stunned to see Dr. Brock again! She’s no longer the timid med student with an unrequited crush. But single dad Brock’s changed too… He’s a serious workaholic raising his daughter alone. Yet as they consult on a case together, Cassie realizes her desire is as powerful as ever. And, apparently, it’s mutual!
Hello! I’m doing well and thank you for having me on your blog today!
You’re welcome. Congratulations on the release of Single Dad’s Unexpected Reunion. I read the story and loved it. I don’t know about you, but I’m calling this story a romantic comedy, a medical romance, featuring a widower who’s a single father. I see this being an unrequited love, a second chance romance. But why don’t you tell readers about the story?
Yes! I agree with your description. I’ve wanted to write a small-town series for the Medicals line for a while and populate it with all the quirky, funny characters that all small towns I know have. So, when it was time to sign a new contract with the line, I approached my editor with this idea for a hospital set in a fictional small town on the shores of Buzzards Bay in Massachusetts called Wyckford. The line had been looking to try a few stories with more humor in them, so I jumped on that as well. I’m the type of person who uses humor to cope with stressful situations, and I reflected that in my characters as well. And yes, Single Dad’s Unexpected Reunion is full of all my favorite tropes as well—a single dad raising his daughter alone after his wife died while he also is working to save the family practice his dad started in the town where he grew up. The heroine in this book also grew up in Wyckford, but she left after medical school to pursue a career in San Diego—and also to leave behind her unrequited crush on the hero. When she returns to town to consult on a case, the two are thrown back together again (with the help of the hero’s pesky pup, Winnie), and sparks fly all over again.
Adi and Winnie are two characters who in my mind made this a romantic comedy. Tell us more about them.
Adi was just so cute to write. I’ve been told I write kids well, but I don’t know. Maybe I think like a kid myself? Anyway, I just had a ball writing her and her droid toy. And Winnie… well, Winnie is just a good doggo. Frenchie’s are known for their clown-like personalities and can be a handful and Winnie certainly is both!
What do you love about Cassie and Brock as individuals and as a couple?
I love how they both are so dedicated to what they do, and also dedicated to the people they love. There isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for those they care for and that makes them wonderful parents and doctors and sons and daughters. But it can also be a detriment when they don’t take care of themselves and their own needs as well. Which is where we find them both at the start of the story. Both have worked hard to get where they are but to the exclusion of almost everything else. It’s their journey back to balance and to each other and love that makes this story so special.
Single Dad’s Unexpected Reunion is the first book in your Wyckford General Hospital series. Can you tell me about some of the other characters we will meet and who some of the future love interests are?
Yep. The next book will be coming out in April 2024 and is called An ER Nurse to Save Him. It will focus on Madi and Tate. Madi’s an ER Nurse at Wyckford General who readers meet in Book One, and Tate Griffin is a temporary flight paramedic at the hospital staying in Wyckford while on extended leave from the Air Force for his leg. It’s a sort of fake dating turned real feelings type story with plenty of sizzle and spice and humor also. I love both of these characters too and can’t wait for you to read their journey to love.
What was your favorite part of Single Dad’s Unexpected Reunion to write and why?
Hmm. That’s a hard one, there are so many great scenes in the book. I did love their reunion scene (or Meet Cute 2.0) where Cassie agrees to take Brock’s dog Winnie out for a walk, thinking she’ll be able to see how he’s doing without him knowing. But then the whole thing backfires when the dog gets loose, and she ends up on the beach thinking Winnie drowned herself in Buzzards Bay. Only to have Brock show up and catch her.
That was a good scene. Can you tell me about one of your favorite scenes from the book, and why it is a favorite?
Oh, I get to share another one!
You do.
Yay! I’d have to say the art class kiss was also a fave. It gave me a chance to showcase some of the nosy residents of Wyckford and the local retirement home, Sunny Village, where Cassie’s dad now lives. Plus, the kiss catches both characters off-guard and shows that while they think they’re so in control on the surface, beneath there are all these messy emotions roiling that they’ll have to deal with one way or another to get to their HEA.
That scene was one of the rare moments it seems Brock let his control slip. So this is really personal and you unintentionally made me feel good about myself. Thank you so much! You recently did an interview with someone and revealed that you’re dyslexic. I literally sat at my desk and was beyond amazed. Honestly, at that moment, I felt like I wasn’t alone. I mean here’s an author who writes hundreds, if not thousands of pages a year, who admits to being a slow reader. But you manage to get things done and it just seems effortless. How do you do it?
Aw. Sending you hugs. Yes, I’m dyslexic. I think it’s much more out there now, people talking about it a lot, than when I was growing up. Back then—like late 70s, early 80s—no one really mentioned dyslexia when a student was struggling in school. It was just like, well, you’re not good at that and that’s it. There are so many resources available now to kids that we just didn’t have back then. My dyslexia shows up mainly in reading and math. Algebra nearly killed me in high school. No joke. And word problems in grade school? Forget about it. I remember crying in the bathroom on days when we had those because I felt like such an idiot. Everyone else knew the answers so fast and I just sat there wishing the ground would swallow me whole because all those words and numbers together just formed a big ball of nothing in my head. So yeah. Fine with basic math and can function fine in daily life but add letters in there and you might as well be speaking Klingon to me. Makes no sense at all.
And reading-wise, I’m probably the world’s slowest reader, because if I don’t go slow, I tend to miss words and sentences and then nothing makes sense. Even going slow, I sometimes hit a sentence or a word that just won’t compute for me, and I have to read it two or three times to get it unjumbled in my head and make sense of it. But that’s okay. It just means I get to spend more time in the fictional worlds I love, right?
Writing-wise, I think it’s only a problem when I transpose letters typing—which thank you to my editors for catching that—and also in timelines. Like those are my kryptonite. I have a horrible time keeping straight what happened when and how much time has passed between—again, thanks to my beloved editor for helping me with that!
What’s next for you?
Well, I just turned in revisions on Tate and Madi’s story, and then I’ll start on book three in the Wyckford General series, which will be Luna and Mark’s story. And I also have a new holiday book coming out this December as part of a new Medicals continuity called Boston Christmas Miracles. My book in that, Home Alone with the Children’s Doctor, is number three in the continuity and features an agnostic, introverted, socially awkward heroine who was recently diagnosed with autism and a Jewish hero. It was great to take a non-traditional angle on the holidays and see all the fun Hanukkah activities in Boston through their eyes. Trope-wise it’s a forced proximity, past ONS, opposites attract holiday romance with lots of heat and heart. That book releases December 1, 2023, and I’m excited for people to read it!
Traci, thank you so much for taking the time to answer some questions for me.
At the appropriate time, Cassie pulled up to the address Brock had given her and took a deep breath, still slightly amazed at herself for choosing to do this. It was a bit crazy, agreeing to walk Brock’s dog for him when he had no idea who was really on the other end of the line, but he needed help, and she needed the closure of knowing she was well and truly over the man. Hopefully, this would take care of both problems in one fell swoop.
His house was stunning. Two-story, with an exterior that reminded Cassie of old-world European architecture, on a wooded lot right on the bay. The houses were spread out in this expensive area of town, with rocky beaches that stretched for endless miles and dark green bluffs and rock formations for as far as the eye could see.
She parked her SUV under the front portico and walked up to the door. A handwritten note was stuck to the glass.
Cassie stared at the scrawled message from Brock’s younger sister, trying to decide if she should actually go through with this or leave. Because now that she was here, on the threshold, all her earlier rationalizations fled, and this seemed like a bad idea. Especially since walking into his house without a key was problematic, at best. If not illegal, at worst.
She glanced around again to see if any nosy neighbors were watching. Getting arrested tonight was not on her career achievement plan. Then she looked down at her outfit—not exactly dog-walking attire. She’d not changed after her presentation earlier, so she was still wearing her crisp black business suit—a blazer and knee-length skirt—and black pumps. Not great for prowling or pounding the pavement.
From inside the house came a happy, high-pitched bark. Then another.
Okay. Fine. She was probably blowing this out of proportion. It was a quick dog walk. Nothing more. And Brock had asked her to come here and do it. If the cops showed up, she had that to fall back on. Plus, from the sounds of those barks and whines, his puppy had to go quite badly.
Cassie opened the front door and peered inside.
The interior of the home was as stunning as the outside. Wide open spaces, done in dark tones and neutral colors. The furniture was oversized and sparse, and the floors were beautiful hardwood. An entire wall of windows faced the setting sun and Buzzards Bay.
As she stepped inside, the barking increased in volume. Cassie followed the sounds through a huge, state-of-the-art, open-style kitchen that made her wish she knew how to cook beyond the basics of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Then to a laundry room, where the doorway was blocked by a toddler gate.
On the other side of it sat a tiny, adorable French bulldog.
Tan, with bat ears, large dark eyes and a tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth, the puppy looked like an animated cartoon as it twirled in excited circles, dancing for her, trying to impress and charm its way out of lockup.
“Hi there.” Cassie crouched in front of the gate. The little dog—she hadn’t gotten its name—snuffled against her hand, snorting in joyous delirium, rolling over so Cassie could scratch its belly, then jumping to its feet and hopping around again. Too cute.
“Let’s get you out here so we can take a walk, huh?” Cassie grinned as she opened the gate, then fell back on her butt as the dog streaked past her like a bolt of lightning, racing through the kitchen and out of sight.
“Hey,” she called, clambering back to her feet. “Come back. Let’s go for a walk!”
But the puppy didn’t, and wow, for something so tiny, it moved fast. The bulldog snorted with sheer delight as it ran circles around the couch, barking with merry enthusiasm. Cassie gave chase, but then the dog changed direction, heading back into the kitchen.
Giving up, she returned to the laundry room and found a pink collar and leash hanging on a hook by the door. Embroidered on the collar was a name: Winnie.
Cassie laughed. Well, the dog certainly had the roly-poly, cuddly part down, that was for sure. She found Winnie sitting by the front door, panting, apparently having worn off all her excess energy.
“Good girl,” Cassie cooed as she moved closer with the collar. “Want to go for a walk?”
Winnie gave her a goofy puppy grin.
Aw. See? She had made the right choice here. Cassie understood how exhausting being a busy physician was, having pulled many long shifts herself. Brock needed help, and she was glad to provide it. But before she could get the collar secured around Winnie’s neck, the dog escaped through the still-open front door, tearing toward Buzzards Bay at breakneck speed.
Blood pounding in her ears, Cassie straightened and shouted, “Wait, Winnie. Stop!”
But Winnie didn’t stop. The puppy hit the rocky beach and headed straight for the water.
“No!” Cassie yelled, in full panic mode now. “Stop!”
Tiny Winnie dived into the bay.
Cursing, Cassie ran after her, kicking off her fancy pumps along the way for better traction. She stopped at the water’s edge, cold water nipping at her bare toes as she frantically searched for a bobbing head. Nothing. It seemed that Brock’s puppy had vanished.
With the water inching closer to her ankles, Cassie staggered back, still searching.
Still nothing.
Her heart sank as she pulled her phone from her blazer pocket and hit redial for the number Brock had called from earlier. Pulse slamming against her temples and throat tight, she waited until he picked up.
“Dr. Turner,” came his low, deep voice.
And just like that, Cassie was back in residency and hopelessly, horribly, head over heels for the man, even though she knew how completely ridiculous it was.
She could still picture him after a long shift in his wrinkled scrubs, his dark hair tousled, and his blue eyes lined with exhaustion. A movie-star build and a mind for science. Their gazes had locked a few times as they’d worked on patients together during rotations and, for Cassie at least, the air had fizzed with chemistry.
And now she’d lost the guy’s puppy. The man who’d lost so much already.
“Um...hello,” she said, her explanation tumbling out on a river of nerves and regret. “This is Dr. Cassandra Murphy. We were in residency together. I was the one you called earlier about walking your dog tonight, and I know it was a mistake, and I should have told you then that you had the wrong number, but...” She swallowed hard as she scanned the still empty horizon. “I wanted to help. And now it seems I’ve lost Winnie. Your puppy’s gone.”
Silence followed from the other end of the line.
“And I’m so sorry,” Cassie added.
More silence.
Cassie huffed out a breath, leaned against a nearby boulder before her wobbly knees gave out, and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Brock? Did you hear me?”
“Cassie Murphy?” he said quietly, as if still taking it in. “What the hell are you doing in Wyckford?”
She swallowed and gripped the phone tighter, still scanning the area for any sign of the dog. “I was in Boston for a medical conference and afterward I drove here to consult on a patient and spend some time relaxing and seeing family and friends.”
“And lose my puppy,” he added.
Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was helping—”
“And you’re sure Winnie’s gone?”
Cassie looked up and down the beach. The empty beach. “Yes.”
“Then I should thank you.”
Stunned at his heartless words, Cassie stared at her phone before putting it back to her ear, straightening once more as she scowled. “No. I don’t think you understand. I lost your puppy. In the bay.”
Brock muttered something Cassie didn’t catch.
“Sorry?” She wasn’t sure how long a dog could survive underwater, but chances were good that Winnie was in serious trouble. If she could just spot the puppy, she could pull it to shore. Cassie had never performed canine CPR, but it couldn’t be that different. Cover the muzzle and breathe, chest compressions until help arrived.
“Stay there. I’m two minutes away,” Brock said. “I had a break in the ER and decided to run home to make sure you showed up.”
“Well, of course I showed—” she said, but he’d already ended the call.
Uncharacteristically flustered, Cassie slid her phone back into her pocket and searched again. According to Brock, she had two minutes to find Winnie, and she wasn’t about to waste a second of it.”
Brock’s day had started at five that morning, working out at the gym with his closest friends—Mark Bates, a firefighter, and Tate Griffin, a local paramedic on the flight team for Wyckford General.
By six-thirty he was in his office at the GP his father had started, and which Brock was doing his best to keep afloat, going through patient files and gearing up for his day. Then he’d been called to the ER to consult on a guy who’d gotten in a drunken fight in Boston hours before and had a nasty cut on his face. Normally, the guy could’ve gone to an ER right in Beantown, but apparently the man had been so, he’d driven all the way back to Wyckford without even noticing he’d been covered in his own blood. The cops had waited at the man’s bedside to arrest him and take him to jail as soon as Brock had finished. Sitting in a cell would give him plenty of recovery time. From there, Brock had moved on to a cardiac arrest victim and then to a three-year-old who’d swallowed a Lego and was having understandable trouble passing it.
By noon, Brock wasn’t even halfway through his day, and he’d already been overloaded and overworked and was quite possibly teetering on the edge of burnout. He felt it creeping in on him in unguarded moments—like now, as he parked his car in his driveway to deal with the last person on earth he ever thought he’d see again.
Dr. Cassandra Murphy.
He still couldn’t quite believe she was here in Wyckford. The last time he’d seen Cassie had been at the big Fourth of July fireworks show up in Boston when they’d still been residents. A bunch of them had gone as a last celebration before graduation. An image of Cassie from back then popped into his mind, her brown hair always pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes hidden behind the owlish glasses she always wore. Skinny and serious, she’d seemed to fade into the background. Of course, Brock had been so focused on his beautiful fiancée, Kylie, that he hadn’t seen much else happening around him. He’d been totally in love and totally devoted. In fact, he and Kylie had announced their engagement at that same picnic. Six months later, they’d been married and celebrating the birth of their first kid.
Then tragedy had changed Brock’s life forever.
Now, as he walked across the rocky shoreline toward the bay, he did his best to ignore the dull grief knotting his chest and instead concentrated on the woman standing near the water. Cassie faced the bay with her hands on her head, looking distraught.
As Brock picked up the pace, something dashed toward him in his peripheral vision. Something small and evil.
Winnie.
Brock scooped up the sand-covered puppy with one hand and held her away from him. The French bulldog wriggled with joy, still running in the air as she tried to get closer to him. Finally giving up, Winnie refocused her attention on the woman near the shore.
“Oh, I see her,” Brock whispered to the dog. “And what the hell have you done now?”
His house was stunning. Two-story, with an exterior that reminded Cassie of old-world European architecture, on a wooded lot right on the bay. The houses were spread out in this expensive area of town, with rocky beaches that stretched for endless miles and dark green bluffs and rock formations for as far as the eye could see.
She parked her SUV under the front portico and walked up to the door. A handwritten note was stuck to the glass.
Door’s unlocked. Let yourself in then destroy this note. And don’t tell Brock. He’ll kill me if he knows I left his house open without the alarm set.
Riley
Cassie stared at the scrawled message from Brock’s younger sister, trying to decide if she should actually go through with this or leave. Because now that she was here, on the threshold, all her earlier rationalizations fled, and this seemed like a bad idea. Especially since walking into his house without a key was problematic, at best. If not illegal, at worst.
She glanced around again to see if any nosy neighbors were watching. Getting arrested tonight was not on her career achievement plan. Then she looked down at her outfit—not exactly dog-walking attire. She’d not changed after her presentation earlier, so she was still wearing her crisp black business suit—a blazer and knee-length skirt—and black pumps. Not great for prowling or pounding the pavement.
From inside the house came a happy, high-pitched bark. Then another.
Okay. Fine. She was probably blowing this out of proportion. It was a quick dog walk. Nothing more. And Brock had asked her to come here and do it. If the cops showed up, she had that to fall back on. Plus, from the sounds of those barks and whines, his puppy had to go quite badly.
Cassie opened the front door and peered inside.
The interior of the home was as stunning as the outside. Wide open spaces, done in dark tones and neutral colors. The furniture was oversized and sparse, and the floors were beautiful hardwood. An entire wall of windows faced the setting sun and Buzzards Bay.
As she stepped inside, the barking increased in volume. Cassie followed the sounds through a huge, state-of-the-art, open-style kitchen that made her wish she knew how to cook beyond the basics of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Then to a laundry room, where the doorway was blocked by a toddler gate.
On the other side of it sat a tiny, adorable French bulldog.
Tan, with bat ears, large dark eyes and a tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth, the puppy looked like an animated cartoon as it twirled in excited circles, dancing for her, trying to impress and charm its way out of lockup.
“Hi there.” Cassie crouched in front of the gate. The little dog—she hadn’t gotten its name—snuffled against her hand, snorting in joyous delirium, rolling over so Cassie could scratch its belly, then jumping to its feet and hopping around again. Too cute.
“Let’s get you out here so we can take a walk, huh?” Cassie grinned as she opened the gate, then fell back on her butt as the dog streaked past her like a bolt of lightning, racing through the kitchen and out of sight.
“Hey,” she called, clambering back to her feet. “Come back. Let’s go for a walk!”
But the puppy didn’t, and wow, for something so tiny, it moved fast. The bulldog snorted with sheer delight as it ran circles around the couch, barking with merry enthusiasm. Cassie gave chase, but then the dog changed direction, heading back into the kitchen.
Giving up, she returned to the laundry room and found a pink collar and leash hanging on a hook by the door. Embroidered on the collar was a name: Winnie.
Cassie laughed. Well, the dog certainly had the roly-poly, cuddly part down, that was for sure. She found Winnie sitting by the front door, panting, apparently having worn off all her excess energy.
“Good girl,” Cassie cooed as she moved closer with the collar. “Want to go for a walk?”
Winnie gave her a goofy puppy grin.
Aw. See? She had made the right choice here. Cassie understood how exhausting being a busy physician was, having pulled many long shifts herself. Brock needed help, and she was glad to provide it. But before she could get the collar secured around Winnie’s neck, the dog escaped through the still-open front door, tearing toward Buzzards Bay at breakneck speed.
Blood pounding in her ears, Cassie straightened and shouted, “Wait, Winnie. Stop!”
But Winnie didn’t stop. The puppy hit the rocky beach and headed straight for the water.
“No!” Cassie yelled, in full panic mode now. “Stop!”
Tiny Winnie dived into the bay.
Cursing, Cassie ran after her, kicking off her fancy pumps along the way for better traction. She stopped at the water’s edge, cold water nipping at her bare toes as she frantically searched for a bobbing head. Nothing. It seemed that Brock’s puppy had vanished.
With the water inching closer to her ankles, Cassie staggered back, still searching.
Still nothing.
Her heart sank as she pulled her phone from her blazer pocket and hit redial for the number Brock had called from earlier. Pulse slamming against her temples and throat tight, she waited until he picked up.
“Dr. Turner,” came his low, deep voice.
And just like that, Cassie was back in residency and hopelessly, horribly, head over heels for the man, even though she knew how completely ridiculous it was.
She could still picture him after a long shift in his wrinkled scrubs, his dark hair tousled, and his blue eyes lined with exhaustion. A movie-star build and a mind for science. Their gazes had locked a few times as they’d worked on patients together during rotations and, for Cassie at least, the air had fizzed with chemistry.
And now she’d lost the guy’s puppy. The man who’d lost so much already.
“Um...hello,” she said, her explanation tumbling out on a river of nerves and regret. “This is Dr. Cassandra Murphy. We were in residency together. I was the one you called earlier about walking your dog tonight, and I know it was a mistake, and I should have told you then that you had the wrong number, but...” She swallowed hard as she scanned the still empty horizon. “I wanted to help. And now it seems I’ve lost Winnie. Your puppy’s gone.”
Silence followed from the other end of the line.
“And I’m so sorry,” Cassie added.
More silence.
Cassie huffed out a breath, leaned against a nearby boulder before her wobbly knees gave out, and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Brock? Did you hear me?”
“Cassie Murphy?” he said quietly, as if still taking it in. “What the hell are you doing in Wyckford?”
She swallowed and gripped the phone tighter, still scanning the area for any sign of the dog. “I was in Boston for a medical conference and afterward I drove here to consult on a patient and spend some time relaxing and seeing family and friends.”
“And lose my puppy,” he added.
Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was helping—”
“And you’re sure Winnie’s gone?”
Cassie looked up and down the beach. The empty beach. “Yes.”
“Then I should thank you.”
Stunned at his heartless words, Cassie stared at her phone before putting it back to her ear, straightening once more as she scowled. “No. I don’t think you understand. I lost your puppy. In the bay.”
Brock muttered something Cassie didn’t catch.
“Sorry?” She wasn’t sure how long a dog could survive underwater, but chances were good that Winnie was in serious trouble. If she could just spot the puppy, she could pull it to shore. Cassie had never performed canine CPR, but it couldn’t be that different. Cover the muzzle and breathe, chest compressions until help arrived.
“Stay there. I’m two minutes away,” Brock said. “I had a break in the ER and decided to run home to make sure you showed up.”
“Well, of course I showed—” she said, but he’d already ended the call.
Uncharacteristically flustered, Cassie slid her phone back into her pocket and searched again. According to Brock, she had two minutes to find Winnie, and she wasn’t about to waste a second of it.”
* * *
Brock’s day had started at five that morning, working out at the gym with his closest friends—Mark Bates, a firefighter, and Tate Griffin, a local paramedic on the flight team for Wyckford General.
By six-thirty he was in his office at the GP his father had started, and which Brock was doing his best to keep afloat, going through patient files and gearing up for his day. Then he’d been called to the ER to consult on a guy who’d gotten in a drunken fight in Boston hours before and had a nasty cut on his face. Normally, the guy could’ve gone to an ER right in Beantown, but apparently the man had been so, he’d driven all the way back to Wyckford without even noticing he’d been covered in his own blood. The cops had waited at the man’s bedside to arrest him and take him to jail as soon as Brock had finished. Sitting in a cell would give him plenty of recovery time. From there, Brock had moved on to a cardiac arrest victim and then to a three-year-old who’d swallowed a Lego and was having understandable trouble passing it.
By noon, Brock wasn’t even halfway through his day, and he’d already been overloaded and overworked and was quite possibly teetering on the edge of burnout. He felt it creeping in on him in unguarded moments—like now, as he parked his car in his driveway to deal with the last person on earth he ever thought he’d see again.
Dr. Cassandra Murphy.
He still couldn’t quite believe she was here in Wyckford. The last time he’d seen Cassie had been at the big Fourth of July fireworks show up in Boston when they’d still been residents. A bunch of them had gone as a last celebration before graduation. An image of Cassie from back then popped into his mind, her brown hair always pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes hidden behind the owlish glasses she always wore. Skinny and serious, she’d seemed to fade into the background. Of course, Brock had been so focused on his beautiful fiancée, Kylie, that he hadn’t seen much else happening around him. He’d been totally in love and totally devoted. In fact, he and Kylie had announced their engagement at that same picnic. Six months later, they’d been married and celebrating the birth of their first kid.
Then tragedy had changed Brock’s life forever.
Now, as he walked across the rocky shoreline toward the bay, he did his best to ignore the dull grief knotting his chest and instead concentrated on the woman standing near the water. Cassie faced the bay with her hands on her head, looking distraught.
As Brock picked up the pace, something dashed toward him in his peripheral vision. Something small and evil.
Winnie.
Brock scooped up the sand-covered puppy with one hand and held her away from him. The French bulldog wriggled with joy, still running in the air as she tried to get closer to him. Finally giving up, Winnie refocused her attention on the woman near the shore.
“Oh, I see her,” Brock whispered to the dog. “And what the hell have you done now?”
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Traci is a USA Today Bestselling romance author with an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. She writes sometimes funny, always emotional stories about strong, quirky, wounded characters overcoming adversity to find their forever person. She believes Love is Love and hopes to accomplish brave, beautiful things with her one wild and precious life.
Represented by Jill Marsal at Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC
Places to find Traci Douglass:
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