Summer Ever After: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

Chapter 1

Deedee Meyer holdsup a clinch cover book.

You know the type I’m talking about—a bare-chested, muscular man with a swooning woman clinging to his chiseled body. The wind dramatically blows the woman’s hair back, and part of her dress falls off her tiny shoulder, creating the perfect amount of tantalizing cleavage.

This is the type of book Deedee suggests for our book club’s next read.

Sweet, seventy-eight-year-old Grandma Deedee.

She flips to a marked page and clears her throat before she begins reading a passage. “Clancy’s strong, capable hands clasp around my waist, pulling my body toward his. Rough calluses run over my silky skin, awakening my senses. I quiver against the hard planes of his manly chest.” Grandma Deedee’s voice goes higher when the woman talks, giving us a dramatic narration. “‘Clancy, I’ve never known the pleasures of a man before.’”

The pleasures of a man?

My eyes dart to Cat, another book club member. She looks effortlessly cute with her platinum-blonde hair and glasses—normally, she wears contacts, but I like the change-up tonight. Humor plays across her face as she watches Deedee read out loud her favorite scene from The Haunted Cowboy and Me.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good romance story as much as the next girl—okay, probably more than the next girl, and the girl after that, and the girl after that.

What can I say? I love love.

I swoon over book boyfriends, feel my heart pound during love declarations in movies, sigh at sweet lyrics in songs. I’m a hopeless romantic, but having a spicy scene read out loud by Deedee Meyer makes me want to cover my ears with embarrassment.

Deedee is like a grandma to me, and I prefer not to have words like quiver and pleasures of a man come out of her elderly mouth.

Ever.

It just…hits different.

I especially prefer that she not say them in the Seaside Oasis retirement center living room, where Bill Dahle and Harold Shuman play chess eight feet away.

Deedee’s voice goes low, becoming the rugged man from the cover. “‘Rita, I’ll show you just how soft a real cowboy can be.’ Clancy’s sandpaper hands trace up my back, velvety soft over my rib cage, finding their way to my?—”

“Okay!” I clap, purposely interrupting the scene. “I think we get the gist of that book. Thank you, Deedee, for your suggestion.”

Her light eyes flip to me over the edge of the book. There’s a little too much mischievousness in them for my liking. “But you stopped me before the best part.”

“We can fill in the blanks well enough.” A strained smile pulls over my lips as I glance at the other book club ladies.

We’re an interesting group with a wide range of ages. There are the elderly women: Deedee, Virginia, and Lu. Although, Lu usually snores in the recliner in the corner, so I’m not sure you can really count her as a book club member. And then the younger women: me, Cat, Holland, and Tala.

“Any other suggestions for next month”s book? Besides The Haunted Cowboy and Me?” My stare pleads with the younger women to help me out.

“I liked Deedee’s book.” The corner of Virginia”s wrinkly mouth lifts. “I want to know where Clancy’s hands ended up on Rita’s body.”

“I can easily tell you that.” Bill Dahle snickers behind us.

Oh. My. Goodness.

He was my Sunday school teacher.

My body winces in disgust.

Starting a book club at the Seaside Oasis retirement home was supposed to give the elderly people on the island a wholesome activity to look forward to each month. But they’re taking my wholesome activity and scandalizing it.

“Holland?” I swing my eyes to her to save the moment. “Do you have any suggestions for a book for next month? It’s the beginning of summer, so maybe something beachy.”

She twists her long blonde hair behind her as if she’s going to pull it into a low bun but releases it instead, letting the strands unravel down her back. “What about a romance? Like a Sunny Palmer book. I heard Secret Crush was really good.”

“Uh…” I exchange a glance with Tala. She’s the only other person who knows the real truth about who the author Sunny Palmer is and why I need to deflect right now. “Sunny Palmer is so popular. Maybe we could read a lesser-known author.”

“If Holland wants Secret Crush as our June book, let her have it. But no more romance books after that.” Cat’s lips tip downward. “We’ve read a romance book every month since this book club started. Let’s choose something different in July.”

“Pft,” Deedee scoffs. “I’m on the verge of death. Do you honestly think I’d waste my time reading anything other than romance? I want passion and heat!” She waves the cowboy book in front of us. “If you’re not going to deliver, then I’m removing myself from this G-rated club.”

“Same!” Virginia huffs, which is ironic since she begged to be a part of the book club. She doesn’t even live at the retirement center yet. I had to pick her up and drive her over here tonight.

“I’m here for the romance books too.” Tala’s lips morph into a guilty smile. “So if this book club turns into self-help or mystery, I might as well be home with Heath and the kids.” Tala is the only member with a family she has to think about. But it didn’t take a lot of convincing to get her to join my retirement center book club. She was eager for a night out. Plus, she misses her sister Capri since she moved away almost as much as I do. Hanging out with me is a close second to hanging out with Capri.

Cat shifts her eyes around the group. “Yeah, but don’t you hate how fake the romance is in these books?”

“Well, it is fiction.” Tala shrugs.

“That’s the problem,” Cat says. “It’s fiction, not real. Real men in real life don’t sweep women off their feet. They don’t profess love the way the books make it seem. They don’t flex their hand after touching a woman. It gives us a false standard of love and sets us up for failure.”

I feel personally attacked.

It’s as if someone has defamed my religion.

Stomped on my flag.

Turned their back during my national anthem.

Cat has trash-talked the very foundation upon which I’ve built my life’s hopes and dreams. I would understand her false sentiments about what real love is—and could probably let them slide—if she were an elderly woman beaten down by the disappointments of life and relationships. But Cat’s just like me—lived on Sunset Harbor Island her whole life, in her late twenties, and single.

Very, very single.

Okay, the double verys are about my singlehood, not Cat’s.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I straighten, ready to defend love’s honor. “Romance books may be fiction, but they are not fake. The tropes we see in romance books happen in real life too.”

“No, they don’t. They’re just plot devices to carry the story.”

“How can you say that, Cat? Take the one-bed trope, for example. My parents were on tour together as friends, but their relationship shifted one night when they had to share the only bed on the tour bus. My dad said he fell in love with my mom the morning he woke up with her in his arms.”

“Yeah, but your parents are Tucker Hayes and Loretta Lee,” Holland says.

“So?”

“So they aren’t real life either. They’re famous country music singers. They’re like one level shy of fiction.”

It’s true. My parents have a storybook kind of love.

Seriously.

You can Google it.

Tucker Hayes and Loretta Lee are known as country music”s cutest couple. It’s been that way ever since they got together thirty years ago. The love songs they’ve written and sung together have topped the Billboard charts. I’ve literally grown up watching a fairy tale unfold, and now that’s what I want for myself.

What I’ll have.

I just need to find the right guy.

But in the back of my mind, there’s a ticking bomb saying I’m running out of time, stressing me out with thoughts that if it doesn’t happen soon, it will never happen, and I’ll never have what my parents have.

Those thoughts live rent-free in my head.

Super helpful.

“Okay, forget about my parents’ love story, then.” I look at Deedee. “Didn’t you and your husband start dating after you were trapped in an elevator together?”

“We spent five hours in that elevator.” She runs her aged fingers over her short, silver hair as her lips press into a soft smile. “And when we finally got out, Frank said it was the best five hours of his life, and he didn’t want it to end. We were engaged three weeks later.”

“See?” I throw my hands out, staring at Cat like I’ve just won my case.

“Okay, so romance tropes worked for that generation. But they won’t work for us.”

“Of course they can. Falling in love with the right person just hasn’t happened for us yet, but it will happen.”

The dark, twisty parts of my brain don’t believe what I just told Cat. But I typically ignore those parts unless it’s late at night and there’s chocolate present.

“How will falling in love happen for us?” Cat’s eyes bounce between Holland and me. “We’re in our late twenties, hanging out at a retirement home on a Saturday night with a married woman and people who could be our grandparents.”

“I resent that!” Virginia scoffs, but Cat ignores her and keeps going.

“We live on this tiny island with zero to no romantic prospects. There’s no one on Sunset Harbor to fall in love with. So unless you plan on finding a man somewhere off the island or three gorgeous men move in, we’re all out of luck.”

“That’s not true!” I have to protest because if Cat’s right, and there’s no hope for us, where do I go from here? Falling in love, getting married, and having a family is what’s next, and if it doesn’t happen, I’ll be heartbroken. All that will be left is withering pieces of disappointment and loneliness.

No, I refuse to lose hope.

My chin lifts. I’m on my soapbox now. “As someone who works in the mayor’s office as the city administrator and is very well informed on our city”s demographics, plenty of available single men live in Sunset Harbor.”

“Not to mention attractive!” The words come out of Virginia’s mouth with a hiccup, momentarily startling Lu from her slumber in the recliner.

Lu looks around, frowns, and closes her eyes again.

“There might be a lot of single men living on the island, but we know them all,” Cat says. “We’ve grown up with them, went to school with them, dated them, kissed them. Don’t you think if something were going to happen between a Sunset Harbor guy and one of us, it would’ve happened by now?”

“I agree.” Holland sits back, crossing her leg over her knee. “I mean, I didn’t grow up here, but I’ve lived here long enough that I’m sure I would’ve fallen in love by now if there was someone on Sunset Harbor I was supposed to be with.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that Holland would side with Cat. They’re best friends. I mean, I’m friends with them too, but I’m more like the third wheel. If Capri hadn’t moved away, things would be different. She’s my best friend, and I know for a fact she’d side with me. Together, we’d convince everyone that there’s still hope for us to find the kind of love we read about in fiction.

I smile casually, as if this topic is easy breezy. “I understand what you’re saying. I’m not worried about our prospects, but I am concerned.”

Cat’s brows pull together. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I’m saying yes, we’ve known these men our entire lives and haven’t fallen madly in love with them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t. Maybe we need to give them another chance. Look again.”

“Look again?” Holland’s expression is skeptical.

Virginia fans herself. “I look at them allllllll the time.”

“Yeah”—I eye Virginia as I keep explaining—“see if there’s a new connection now that we’re older and more established.”

“And just what men on the island do you suggest we revisit?” Cat folds her arms, suppressing a smile as if she can’t wait to hear who I say.

“Well, there’s…” I look around, hoping for inspiration, but the retirement center rec room is full of older men past their dating prime. My eyes catch a glimpse of Tristan Palmer’s office tucked in the corner. His family owns Seaside Oasis, but I can’t suggest him. That’s a complete breach of the BFF Code of Conduct. Capri has had an undying crush on Tristan for as long as I can remember. So he’s off-limits. But his little brother isn’t. “Beau Palmer,” I say with a smile.

Both Cat and Holland shrug indifferently. “Beau’s just a really good friend.”

“Friends to lovers is a very popular trope.”

They shake their heads like that’s never going to happen.

“Fine, I’ll put Beau on my list of possibilities.” I look at Holland. “What about Phoenix Park?”

“No! Phoenix Park is out of the question. One of you can have him.”

“Noah Belacourt? His family owns the resort on the island, so he’ll always have ties here in Sunset Harbor.”

Cat’s face distorts. “The Belacourt family? They’re worse than the Kardashians. Absolutely not.”

I throw my hands up. “It’s hard to come up with names on the spot. But you’re missing the point. We chose to live in Sunset Harbor because it’s the greatest place ever, so if we want to stay here, we need to give the available men on this island another chance. And this summer is the perfect time to do that.”

“Why this summer?” Holland asks.

“Because there’s no time like the present to fall in love.”

And because now that my parents have moved out, I’m all alone. I’ve done my best to turn my friends into my family. I fill my time with the community and being involved around the island, and that makes me happy, but it doesn’t take away the empty feeling at night when my head hits the pillow in a quiet house.

I’m lonely.

So, so lonely.

It’s not something I broadcast, and even if I did, nobody would believe me. I’m Jane Hayes, always happy, always looking on the bright side. But if I’ve learned anything in the last few years, it’s that a person can be happy and lonely at the same time.

Those two feelings can coexist, but that doesn’t mean that I want them to.

Maybe this moment, with the book club as my witnesses, is the kick in the butt I need. Instead of feeling sorry for myself and just waiting around for love to find me, I’m going to take matters into my own hands and go find love.

I’m pro-active, not reactive—oooh, that’s good. Maybe I’ll make that phrase my home screen.

“This is our summer, ladies!” I pound the armrest beside me. “We’re not going to sit back and live vicariously through romance books. We’re going to make our own romance happen.”

“Oh, I like the sound of this.” Deedee hasn’t been this excited since she stopped reading that passage from The Haunted Cowboy and Me.

“And how do you suggest we do that?” The tone behind Cat’s words doesn’t faze me.

“By using romance tropes. Just like they drive a plot forward, they can drive our love life forward.” My entire face lights up. This might be the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had. I stand and begin pacing as I think things through. “Yes, we’ll spend the summer creating romantic moments between us and the men on this island?—”

“You mean forcing romantic moments,” Cat interjects.

“No, we’re just being proactive, not reactive.” The phrase was so good it needed to be said out loud. “We’re creating an environment where love can grow until we find the right guy.” I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before. I stop walking and face the book club with a smile bigger than my romance DVD collection back home. “This is the summer where we fall in love and get our happily ever afters.”

Everyone stares back at me with blank faces.

“I’m single,” Bill Dahle says from his chess game. “I’ll test out a few tropes with you.”

Not the response I was hoping for.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll keep to my age bracket.” I glance back at the women with a suppressed smile. “What do you say?” My eagerness travels back and forth between Holland and Cat, looking for a home.

“I say”—Holland smiles—“I’ve always loved your optimism.”

“It’s true, Jane.” Cat nods. “Your optimism, especially when it comes to love, is very admirable.”

My shoulders drop a little—just a little because I still think this is the greatest idea I’ve ever had. “This isn’t optimism. It’s manifesting. This is happening. I’m falling in love this summer, and I’m doing it with all the tropes you think aren’t real, and if you ladies don’t want to join me, that’s on you.”

I’ve hit my stride now, and nothing is going to stop me…except maybe that dark, twisty side of my brain that I try to ignore.

“It’s not that we don’t want to join you.” Cat looks at Holland for support. “It’s just…it seems a little ambitious. I don’t want you to be disappointed or get your heart broken.”

“How can I be disappointed when I’m in love?”

They exchange another worried look, but I ignore it because I don’t want to be wrong about this. Call me desperate, but I want to fall in love. I’m ready to fall in love.

“I’ll do this on my own and prove to you that real love still exists. It’s the summer of Jane Hayes.” I grab my red plastic cup on the coffee table and hold it like I’m making a toast. “To falling in love!”

“Hear, hear!” Virginia cheers.

I throw back my head, taking a big gulp. The force is a little too much, causing water to spill out the sides and douse my shirt.

I’m off to a rough start.

But I’m off—desperation and patheticness tagging along for the ride.