Published by Tryst Books on August 17th 2016
Genres: Contemporary Romance
Buy on Amazon
NatalieÔÇÖs world is shaken to its core when she discovers an old photo of a woman who looks like her. Could this woman be related to her birth mother, who put Natalie up for adoption as a baby? When she tracks down the person who dumped the photo album at her thrift shop, sheÔÇÖs shaken again. Especially when the gorgeous fire-fighting guitarist offers to help her find the owner. They quickly become friends ÔÇô which is all theyÔÇÖll be, as far as NatalieÔÇÖs concerned. Her rebellious youth turned her off cheating men, and the new Natalie is looking for true love and a family of her own ÔÇô something Casey isnÔÇÖt willing to provide. But how long can Natalie ignore her undeniable attraction to the man with the Irish accent and the broken-down ÔÇÖ57 Chevy?
In Chelsey KrauseÔÇÖs second novel, friends become lovers over a whirlwind summer of rockabilly rhythms, twirling skirts, and a mystery that takes them hilariously far out of their element.
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The next morning, a bright, sunny day, I roll out of bed and shrug on a pair of cropped beige tights and a spring dress. By ten thirty, IÔÇÖm waiting outside of CaseyÔÇÖs house. IÔÇÖm about to knock on the door when it swings open. Casey is standing there, a crooked smile showcasing one dimple.
And, oh dear God, heÔÇÖs shirtless.
ÔÇ£Morning, stranger,ÔÇØ he says.
ÔÇ£Do you always answer the door half naked?ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£I just rolled out of bed. YouÔÇÖre lucky I have pants on.ÔÇØ
I feel a smile tugging on my lips. ÔÇ£Do you need a few minutes to get ready?ÔÇØ
He leans into the hallway and grabs a T-shirt and a set of keys off of a narrow table. ÔÇ£IÔÇÖm good.ÔÇØ He bounds out of the house, and walks down the driveway to the backyard.
Casey turns and beckons me down the driveway. I follow him into a dark garage. Hmm. I sure hope he isnÔÇÖt a serial killer.
I decide to linger in the doorway. ÔÇ£So, how long have you lived in Canada?ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£Since I was thirteen,ÔÇØ he says. ÔÇ£Why?ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£You still have an accent, soÔÇªÔÇØ
He hits the garage door button, and an ancient motor and pulley system rattles to life. ÔÇ£We came over for DadÔÇÖs work. But we were from County Kerry, originally,ÔÇØ he says. ÔÇ£Very thick accents.ÔÇØ
IÔÇÖm about to blurt out, ÔÇ£I love your accent,ÔÇØ but think better of it.
The garage door is finally up, and sunlight spills through the dusty air onto a very old, very sad looking blue truck.
ÔÇ£ThatÔÇÖs your truck?ÔÇØ
He nods. ÔÇ£IsnÔÇÖt she great?ÔÇØ
I examine the rust-bitten tailgate. ItÔÇÖs barely hanging on. It doesnÔÇÖt even look road-worthy. ÔÇ£SheÔÇÖs okay.ÔÇØ
His eyes widen playfully and he places a hand on his chest. ÔÇ£You donÔÇÖt like Old Blue? But this is a ÔÇÖ57 Chevy! ItÔÇÖs a classic!ÔÇØ
I wrinkle my nose.
Casey pats the hood affectionately. ÔÇ£There, there,ÔÇØ he stage-whispers. ÔÇ£She just needs to get to know you first. You have a great personality.ÔÇØ
He walks over to the passenger side and opens the truck door for me, and I look into the cab. It isnÔÇÖt filthy, exactly. Everything just looks weathered. Cracked. Stained.
ÔÇ£I donÔÇÖt mind driving my car.ÔÇØ