LYRICAL PRESS

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Table of Contents

      Cover Copy

      Also by Geri Krotow

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      About the Author

      Teaser Chapter

      Lyrical Press books are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2018 by Geri Krotow

      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.

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      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.

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      Kensington Publishing Corp.

      119 West 40th Street

      New York, NY 10018

      Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

      Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

      First Electronic Edition: September 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0602-8

      eISBN-10: 1-5161-0602-4

      First Print Edition: September 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0603-5

      ISBN-10: 1-5161-0603-2

      Printed in the United States of America

      Chapter 1

      Sonja Bosco’s grip on the leather-covered steering wheel lessened when she saw the empty driveway in front of the house that had been more than her home for the past three years. It had been her very heartbeat. Henry’s car could be in the garage, of course, but she doubted it. According to what she’d ascertained from their shared receptionist, he was hard at work in the New Orleans office of Boudreaux Law. She’d gathered the courage to call into the main office in Baton Rouge, run by Henry’s father, late last week. The senior Boudreaux knew she planned to report back to work later this morning. Three weeks and two days after she’d left NOLA, left St. Louis Cathedral, and more significantly, left her ex-almost-husband-to-be, Henry, on said altar.

      Of all the degrees, positions, and dreams she’d aspired to, runaway bride had never made the list. The tug of remorse at her emotionally cataclysmic decision was strong, but her will to jump into her new routine, whatever that was going to look like, was stronger.

      She parked her BMW in the driveway for what would be the last time. Her finances as a single woman demanded she sell the once cherished Beemer, and her status as Henry’s ex meant she’d never again live in the house they’d built together. If only it didn’t still feel like home. As much as she dreaded seeing the devastation the flood had done to it the last two weeks, maybe it would crack the code on the invisible signal that made her body home in on this place as if it were her last grasp for freedom. Hell, it wasn’t just her body. Her soul had planted roots here, damn it all to hell.

      The graveled drive felt so familiar under her sandaled feet she almost wept. Home. She’d needed to be here, by herself, licking her heart wounds these past few weeks, instead of holing up in a close elementary-school friend’s backwater cabin. She hadn’t had Wi-Fi and had refused to check her phone, save to let her parents and family know she was still breathing, and was safe from the flooding rains that pummeled so much of the bayou two weeks ago. The flooding had been so extensive she couldn’t get back to the river house if she wanted to, not without a boat and the help of Henry or his brother Brandon.

      She’d only gone out twice, each time to the tiny local grocery store.

      Where the third pregnancy test she’d purchased gave her the same result as the previous two, before the wedding. She was pregnant, newly so. Not only was Henry Boudreaux her ex-groom and ex-fiancé, but he was also her baby daddy. She couldn’t muster the tiniest of smiles, much less a giggle, at the humor of it. She, Sonja Bosco, didn’t think she’d ever laugh again.

      The heavy wooden front door opened with a single turn of her key. It stuck a bit in the frame, and she wondered if it might still be swollen from the devastating rains that soaked the area the week after the wedding. So much so that Poppy, her best friend and appointed honeymoon house sitter, had had to leave for higher, drier ground. And had promptly fallen in love with her rescuer, Henry’s brother Brandon.

      At least some people still believed in love.

      Sonja sucked in a huge breath and faced the house she’d lived in with Henry for the past couple of years, where they’d planned their wedding.

      “The un-wedding,” she muttered to the empty house as