My newest romcom was released on July 19th, 2022 and I wanted to share a look inside My Better Life with you.
When East Coast elite and wealthy bachelor Gavin Williams wakes up in a rural West Virginia hospital, he doesn’t remember who he is or where he’s from. His life is full of holes and secrets, desires and dreams, and as Gavin learns more he begins to wonder—will he ever remember? And what happens when he does?
My Better Life is Book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo series.
Check out this look inside My Better Life:
Look inside My Better Life
I wave my hand in the air, making a chopping motion. “I can’t do it. I’m done. I’m going to tell him everything. I can’t do it.”
It’s late afternoon. I rushed through cleaning houses and called Diedre and Gran so we could have this chat.
Gran tosses the bean she’s shelling into the bowl. “Now why would you go and do a thing like that?”
Diedre narrows her eyes on me and I flush. “I…uh…well…”
Gavin’s mouth on mine flashes through my mind, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me, what he said.
Diedre gasps. “You had sex with him.”
Gran snaps her long, fat shelling bean in half, and I flinch at the violent motion, because if there was ever a woman imagining snapping a man’s willy in half, that was it.
“Jamie Lynn.”
“I did not!” I deny, but then I go and ruin it because I can feel my face growing hotter.
Gran shakes her finger at me. “Look at you wiggling like a worm in ashes.”
I hold still and stop shifting my feet on the old tile floor.
Diedre grins. She loves Gran’s old sayings. “Good one, Granny Allwright.”
Granny doesn’t have time for nonsense. “You hush, child. Jamie Lynn, you listen to me.” She points at the pile of shelling beans. “But while you’re listening, shell these. I’ve a truckload of them to get done.”
I pull out a wooden chair, the one with the old cross-stitched chair pad with a whisk and the phrase “Don’t be afraid to take whisks.” I scowl at it.
I grab a handful of beans and start snapping. “Gran. Diedre. I’m having second thoughts. We thought Gavin was a terrible person, but it turns out, he’s not. He’s really not. I don’t feel right—”
“Listen here,” Gran interrupts. “Did he insult you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Did he sign a contract, have you slave on a project for months, and then renege, taking nine thousand dollars rightly owed to you?”
“I mean, yes, but—”
“And did he cause you to fall and shatter the work you could’ve sold to someone else, robbing you of even that income?”
“Okay, yes, but—”
“And did he then walk out and tell you he would never pay and that your art, your life, and you were ugly and uninspired?”
“But Gran, I don’t think he meant it.”
Gran gives me a pitying look. “He meant it.”
Diedre sighs. She has a small pile of shells in front of her that she’s shredding into fine strips. By the look of the pile, I don’t think she’s ever shelled a bean in her life.
“I agree with Granny Allwright. I know a lot about men.” She opens her eyes wide. “A lot. Just the other day, one of those repressed city boys messaged me and…” She looks over at Granny Allwright, then thinks better about what she was about to say. “Well, needless to say, a man never speaks the truth when he’s trying to…err…make whoopie.”
Gran snaps another shell and I flinch.
Diedre widens her eyes at me and nods meaningfully. “I can guarantee, if a man is trying to…make whoopie…”
“Diedre, for crying out loud, just say sex. I’m eighty-seven years old. I was doing the deed long before your daddy was even old enough to wank his own stick.”
Diedre coughs into her hand and I grin at her. Diedre’s dad was a legendary ladies man in his day, and everybody on the mountain knows it.
Finally, Diedre gets her coughing under control. She clears her throat. “That’s all well and good, but my point was, if a man wants to have sex with you, then he’ll say and do anything. If he doesn’t want to have sex with you, his true colors come out. Before Gavin lost his memory, he didn’t want to have sex with you, so he showed his real self. Now, he’s like a bear, chained to a tree, and you’re the only honey pot he can access. Of course he’s going to treat you nice. Of course he’s going to be charming. He’s being nice, right?” She narrows her eyes.
I nod. “Yeah. Real nice.”
Gran snaps another bean.
Diedre gives a satisfied smile. “I thought so. It’s not that he’s changed. It’s that he thinks you’re the honey pot. Don’t let his charm the honey pot routine distract you from your goal.”
I look at her forlornly. “What’s my goal again?”
Gran clicks her tongue. “Just desserts, Jamie. Getting what’s coming. And what’s coming is not a biddable wife and dancing in the sheets.”
Diedre coughs. “Uh, thought we were saying sex?”
I block out the image of Gavin and me rolling on my bed, the sheets wrapped around us.
“Shush. I’m serious here. Repeat after me.” Gran stares me down like a general preparing her troops for battle.
I nod. “Okay.”
“Gavin Williams is a no-good, selfish, horrible man.”
I flinch, but say, “Gavin Williams is a no-good, selfish, horrible man.”
Gran nods. “I will not be swayed by sweet words, handsome looks, or”—she glares—“rampant sex appeal.”
Diedre snorts and covers her mouth with her hand.
I sigh. “Gran…”
“Jamie Lynn.” She crosses her bony arms over her chest.
I look up to heaven. She’s right. Diedre’s right. To use a cliché, a leopard can’t change its spots, it can only shave them off, but the fur always grows back. Gavin might seem different, but he’s only being nice because he thinks I’m the honey pot. He’s still the same man underneath.
I firm my jaw and look at Gran and Diedre.
“Okay.” I nod. My resolve is back. “I will not be swayed by sweet words, handsome looks, or rampant sex appeal.”
Diedre grins at me. “There’s my best friend. Go get ’em, tiger.”
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