Noelle Dubois had the perfect life. She’d studied in Paris, became a pastry chef, and had the love and support of both parents.
In an instant, all that changed and now she’s back home in New York, without a job, taking care of her eight-year-old brother and living with her aging grandparents while waiting for her mother’s murderer to stand trial.
Six months of limbo.
Six months of waiting.
Six months to learn that all she ever dreamed about has gone up in smoke.
Sean Vines has dealt with his past and moved on. He has goals and dreams and only time and hard work will see them accomplished.
Everything is on track until a pastry chef and an eight-year-old boy move in across the street.
The funny thing about dreams, they can be altered by the people you meet, and that’s when you realize that maybe you just hadn’t dreamed big enough.
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Contemporary16 Ratings on Amazon, Average 4.3
14 Ratings on Goodreads, Average 4.21
Can I afford to go a week without pay? No.
Do I need a week off to get the basement done? Yep.
Those stars aligned this morning by way of jury duty. I was all prepared to do my civic duty. I showed up early just so I could get a seat at a table to that I can sketch and draw plans for the basement renovation. They really should put more tables in jury rooms. There are a handful of people knitting, others are reading, but there are also people trying to balance laptops on knees.
I was even able to calculate the amount of lumber and drywall I’ll need before my group was called to the courtroom for voir dire. All it took was one question before I was dismissed: “Has anyone in your family died as the result of another, whether by intention or accident.” As I raised my hand, I looked over at the defense table to a clean-cut gentleman in an expensive suit and wondered who he’d killed. We were in criminal court, not civil, and the charge was murder.
I know that everyone is innocent until proven guilty, but I also assume that if they got this far, they likely killed someone.
As soon as I got back home, I headed to the basement but so far, I’ve not succeeded in escaping my memories, or getting much of anything done, other than tape off sections so I can show the guys the planned layout.
All it took was being back in the courtroom and that one question to bring back memories that I thought I’d longed buried. In an instant, the anxiety and terror I experienced at the age of twelve clutched at my heart and gut, just like it did when I had to testify against the person who killed Mom—my dad.
