LITMIR.BIZ

      LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      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.

      LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

      119 West 40th Street

      New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2017 by Kym Roberts

      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.

      All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

      Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

      Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.

      First Electronic Edition: October 2017

      eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-735-6

      eISBN-10: 1-60183-735-6

      First Print Edition: October 2017

      ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-736-3

      ISBN-10: 1-60183-736-4

      Printed in the United States of America

      Dedication

      For Jamal

      The little boy who taught me the true meaning of

      Make-A-Wish—may the tracks to recovery take you to new heights!

      Acknowledgments

      Thank you to my Lyrical/Kensington family for putting my stories in the hands of readers. To my ever-patient editors Martin Biro, Rebecca Cremonese, and Christa, thank you for your guidance and diligence. To Michelle Ford, James Abbate, and Kimberly Richardson, thank you for your dedication to marketing the series and making it visible. There are so many good people working behind the scenes that I am not familiar with, but please know, I appreciate all the hours you put in for writers and readers alike.

      Thank you to the Chicks of Chick Swagger. We fight, we argue, we laugh, we cry, we confide, we dance (some of us poorly), and we manage to maintain our friendships through it all. I love you. To the Sirens who’ve been there since the beginning, I can’t tell you how much your support and friendship mean to me—we will have a weekend getaway—hopefully sooner than you think!

      To the readers who’ve friended me and taken the time to message, email, and/or write reviews—good and bad, I appreciate your words of encouragement, your critiques, and I hope I can continue to give you an escape from the hectic demands of today’s world.

      And thank you to my Rock, for giving me the opportunity to stroll through small-town Texas during the holidays to capture the vibe of Hazel Rock, Texas. I could not have finished Perilous Poetry without you taking up the chores, while I spent hours at a desk overlooking the lake and making my characters come to life. I love you.

      Chapter One

      “Your eye is twitching.”

      “It is not.” My lashes fluttered against my cheek—twice. I rubbed my hand over my face and continued to deny the obvious. “I’ve got dust in my eye. Someone needs to clean this barn.”

      Daddy sighed. “You did that yesterday—on your day off.”

      “What? Yesterday wasn’t my day off.” I turned away from the view of an empty Main Street and picked up one of the delivery boxes from the counter. I’d put the box down when my ex walked by our store just now without stopping. Cade Calloway had strolled on by like he hadn’t been promising to take me out to dinner for the past couple months after he got reelected as mayor—two weeks ago.

      It was humiliating.

      Obviously, we both remembered his invitation. Only one of us thought it’d been sincere. I started to growl and then covered the noise with a cough. My daddy didn’t need to know that Cade had let me down, again. Cade and I hadn’t been together since high school—and if I was being honest, he really didn’t even rate the status of ex.

      He was part of my childhood. Over and done with. Growing older meant moving forward. It was time I did that.

      The front door of our bookstore swished open and the little buzzer dinged, signaling the arrival of customers. I shivered from the cool, damp breeze that came in with the two women. It was the breeze that caused goose bumps to form on my arms, not my anticipation that Cade had turned his all-American, apple-pie good looks around and walked into the Book Barn Princess. That was not something I wanted with every fiber of my being.

      I also have a habit of lying to myself. My life had never been rosy. It’d been good, but not charmed. I yearned for charmed. Or maybe I just wanted a date…any date.

      Daddy approached the two middle-aged ladies who were staring up at our over-sized loft filled with books and upon request, showed them our Poetry & Literature section in one of the Barn’s old horse stalls. The front of the section was whitewashed and had Poetry painted in bold black letters with a tree growing out of the letter t. Literature was offset to the right in scrolling black calligraphy lettering with a feather pen and an inkwell emphasizing its beauty. It gave our rustic setting a touch of class.

      I heard Daddy ask if they were looking for a present, and began to worry about being behind with our holiday stock. This was the first year in a long time that I actually wanted everything to be perfectly decorated to capture the festive nature of the season. For most of my life, holidays had always been a bummer with a capital B. I mean, sure, when I was a little kid, they were awesome. Toys and scrumptious food were in abundance, but the best part? My family was a family. My mom was alive and we would bake for hours, days, weeks…even months.

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