The minute I step out into the muggy afternoon, I start to run. First Presbyterian Church of Eureka is on the side of town closest to the original neighborhoods, where my family lives. It’s designed to be “walkable,” but my mom says it’s too hot and humid to walk to church in heels.

  I run the short distance to the house, and when I get to the door, I toss my slick leather loafers in my bedroom, along with my stiff blazer and starched white shirt and tie. Slacks go next, and I snatch a pair of swim trunks off a pile of clean clothes in the corner I was supposed to put away.

  In less than ten minutes, I’m riding my bike through the palmettos, out to the closest body of water. Sticking to the dirt paths, my tires thump hollowly over small, wooden footbridges, splash in shallow creeks, and crunch over wet gravel.

  When I finally make it to the start of the little lagoon that leads out to the ocean, I abandon my bike and my Vans and take off on bare feet.

  In the shade of the Walter pines, it’s cooler. The air is still thick with briny moisture, but the pungent odor of lilies is finally out of my nose, replaced with the scent of pine straw and the ocean.

  I follow a familiar path to the brackish water, and my mind is full of memories of Pop. I can see his thick fingers attaching the fly to his line and sharing his old stories and wisdom.

  “The only place you find success coming before work is in the dictionary,” he once told me.

  He’d worked hard all his life as a contractor, but his true joys were his family, fishing, and the smoky bourbon he brewed in our family’s distillery.

  He promised to teach me how to make it one day. Looks like that day won’t ever come. A hot tear lands on my cheek, and I didn’t realize I was crying. I only felt the pain in my chest, the knot between my shoulders, the longing for days I’ll never have again.

  I’m at the edge of the trees when I hear a voice that stills my thoughts. It’s sweet and pure as a bell, and it hits me right in the stomach.

  Swallowing a breath, I take a step closer, behind the thick trunk of a live oak tree to get a better look, and what I see almost knocks me on my ass.

  The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen is floating on her back in the clear water. Her eyes are closed, and her dark hair floats around her in the water like a mermaid. Only, she doesn’t have any clam shells, and my teenage dick jumps to life at the sight. Shit.

  It’s been doing that at all kinds of unexpected times these days. I avert my eyes, covering my boner with my hand and trying to make it go away. She’s still singing the song I sort-of recognize, and I can’t seem to move.

  “I believe in angels…” Her voice goes perfectly high, and it’s like I’m having an out of body experience.

  I’m not at the little lagoon, I’m in freakin heaven. Glancing to the side, I don’t see Pop anywhere, so maybe it’s more of a teenage fantasy. A splash in the water, and my eyes involuntarily flash to the inlet.

  She’s on her stomach now, and her hands part the water in front of her as she swims. I can’t see her body anymore, thank God, and I’m doing my best to forget the sight of her perky little breasts and tight nipples.

  Dammit. I’ll never get rid of this woody with those thoughts, and I’m scared if I move, she’ll see me. Still, I’ve got to get out of here.

  I take one step, and of course, it’s the wrong one. A branch breaks, and I slide around the oak tree I’d been hugging, splashing in the shallow water at the base.

  The girl behind me screams, and I squeeze my eyes shut, not moving from where my stomach is pressed to the tree. My feet are in the water, and I listen as she scampers into the brush.

  “Who’s there?” Her voice is sharp. “What are you, some kind of Peeping Tom?”

  Busted. I release the tree and take a careful step backwards, doing my best not to fall. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

  When I hear her stomping in my direction, I turn carefully. Thankfully, she’s clothed now, but the dress she pulled on clings to her wet body in a way that makes my body tight. Her wet hair hangs in thick locks over her chest, and when our eyes meet, it’s a jolt to my insides.

  Cass Dixon moved to Eureka to live with her aunt Carol at the beginning of the summer. I noticed her the first day she was in town, at the Pak-n-Save, and she stopped me in my tracks.

  She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen with long, dark hair and almond-shaped blue eyes. She’s tall for a girl, but she has an easy way, like a dancer.

  “Hey, Cass.” I’m doing my best to be casual, but it’s the first time we’ve ever spoken.

  “What are you doing out here, Alex Stone?” Her hands go to her hips, and she’s sassy. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a funeral?”

  “I ran away.”

  “How come?”

  Shrugging, I look down, shame and guilt twisting together in a knot in my stomach. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I wanted to remember my grandpa like he always was. Not like… that.”

  Her full lips press together, and she nods, walking over to sit on a black log moldering away at the water’s edge. “Makes sense.”

  Her feet are in the water, and I walk over to sit beside her. “Does it?”

  We’re not looking at each other. We’re just sitting side by side, watching the tiny ripples of water rolling in and around the cove.

  Her shoulders move up and down. “I guess. I’ve never lost anybody I can remember, but I think if I did, I wouldn’t want to see them dead.”

  The word stings a little, but she’s right. “None of it felt right. The flowers and the music, even his clothes—it wasn’t anything he would’ve liked.”

  Our feet move like white fish in the currents. The soft ripple of water surrounds us, and insect noises fill the air. It’s a comforting place, and being here feels safe, familiar. Sitting beside Cass feels familiar, even if we’ve never talked before. She’s easy, like an old soul I’ve always known.

  “What was he like?” Her voice is a gentle whisper.

  My hands are in my lap, and I think about the old man. “He liked to fish and tell stories. He built houses and made whiskey. He asked me what I thought about things.”

  It sounds dumb, but with Aiden being the oldest, he always talks to Dad. Adam is the youngest, and everybody always talks to him. Pop was the one who made a point of talking to me, like it was important to him to know how I felt about things.

  A slim hand covers mine, and my eyes flash to where she’s touching me. “I’m sorry he died.”

  Glancing up, I look at her pretty face. “You have a really good voice.”

  She smiles, full lips parting over straight white teeth, and a pinpoint dimple is at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks. I love to sing.”

  “What was that song?”

  “‘I Have a Dream.’ It’s from the Broadway musical Mamma Mia.” She tilts her head, taking her hand from mine. “Technically, it’s an Abba song, but I love Broadway best.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  She shakes her head. “Maybe one day I’ll go. I’d love to see Hamilton or Wicked or even Phantom if it’s still there…”

  Nodding, I’m not sure how to respond. I’ve never known anybody who knew so many shows. “Why are you living with your aunt?” Her brow furrows, and I quickly explain. “I was just wondering what happened to your parents.”

  “Oh.” Her voice goes quiet again. “My mom couldn’t take care of us anymore, so Aunt Carol asked if I wanted to come stay with her.”

  “Us?”

  “My little sister Jelena and me.”

  Again, I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never known anybody who didn’t live with their parents. “I’m sorry.”

  Her chin lifts, and she smiles. “It’s okay. Some people aren’t cut out to be parents, I guess. That’s what Carol said. As much as they try, they can’t get it together. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me. Or even that she doesn’t like me.”

  My brow furrows, and I can’t tell if she’s pretending not to care or if she’s really okay with her situation.

  “I can’t imagine anyone not liking you.”

  She bends her leg, putting her foot on the log and resting her cheek on the top of her knee. Her eyes meet mine, and her smile is back. “You’re nice. Your dad’s the sheriff, right?”

  “And his dad before him.” I study her small nose, turned up at the end.

  “You’re starting tenth grade?” I nod, and she lifts her head. “I’m only in eighth, but maybe we can be friends.”

  I don’t say anything, but my eyes drift to her full lips. I’ve never kissed a girl before, and I’m having all kinds of thoughts about things I’ve never done. I’ve never been on a date, never held a girl’s hand, never seen a girl naked… until now.

  “Don’t you want to be friends?” Her voice is defiant, and I sit up straighter.

  “Uh, sure… I guess.” Do I?

  She stands up quickly, practically jogging in the direction of the forest, and I jump up fast to follow her.

  “Where are you going?” I hop over rocks and sticks wishing I had my shoes.

  She stops and turns so abruptly, we bump into each other, and I grab her arms to keep us both from falling.

  Lifting her arms out of my grip, she shakes her head. “I guess you think you’re too good to be my friend. I guess you’re too awesome to hang out with a middle schooler.”

  “I don’t think any of that!” My reply is loud, and I blurt what I was thinking. “I think you’re really pretty, and I thought I might like to kiss you.”

  Her jaw drops, eyes blinking wider. Then her mouth closes and her brow lowers. “You spied on me naked, and now you want to kiss me? You’re bad.”

  Am I? Maybe a little. “No! I think you’re nice, too, and… that’s all.”

  She studies me a moment longer, her breath coming in quick pants from running. Before I can think, she steps forward, pressing her full lips to mine in a closed-mouth kiss.

  My heart squeezes painfully. Her lips are so soft, and her small breasts press against my chest. Heat rushes from my stomach to my groin, and I lift my hands to pull her closer.

  Before I can touch her, she’s gone, running at top speed to where a bike is parked by the path. She jumps on it and pedals away as fast as she can.

  She leaves me hot all over, the water trickling behind me, and all I can think is friends is something I never want to be with Cassidy Dixon.

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  WAIT FOR ME

  BY TIA LOUISE

  Dear Taron,

  I should have told you this a long time ago…

  Dear Taron,

  Is there a time-limit on forgiveness?

  If there is, I haven’t reached it…

  Dear Taron,

  I still love you…

  A letter never sent.

  Heck, I never even finished it.

  Taron Rhodes was my brother’s best friend.

  He was sexy as sin.

  But he was more than that…

  He was ponytail-pulling, ice down your shirt teasing, throw you in the lake screaming…

  Strong, tanned arms and blue-green eyes over a heart-stopping, naughty grin…

  Did I mention his tight end?

  I gave him my first real kiss, my heart, my everything.

  I said I’d wait for him…

  I’m still waiting, because Taron Rhodes is still the man of my dreams,

  And I have a secret that has his blue-green eyes.

  Noel LaGrange stole my heart when she was only eighteen—pushing me off a flatbed and calling me a city slicker.

  Her brother Sawyer would kick my ass if he knew how many times we made out that summer, how close we got.

  Everything changed when Sawyer and I joined the military.

  We were honorably discharged, but I didn’t go to her.

  Instead, I went back to the city… where no amount of money, no amount of pills can heal this wound.

  Only her whiskey eyes and dark hair, her slim arms and her sweet scent, give me hope.

  I broke her heart just as surely as I broke mine, but I’m going back to make it right.

  If she’s still waiting…

  (WAIT FOR ME is a STAND-ALONE small-town, second-chance romance with a guaranteed HEA. No cheating. No cliffhangers.)

  PROLOGUE

  NOEL

  My momma was too beautiful to die.

  At least, that’s what everybody said.

  Penelope Jean Harris was the scion of our town’s founder and prettiest girl in three parishes. She was head majorette in high school and homecoming queen and prom queen and every other queen. She was Peach Princess, Teen Dixie Peach, and Miss Dixie Gem. She would’ve gone on to be Miss Louisiana if my daddy hadn’t made her a Mrs.

  I was eleven—that strange age between too big to play in the creek in only my panties and too little to sleep without the closet light on. I loved Dolly Parton and butterflies and picking peaches straight off my daddy’s trees and eating them, jumping in the lake and running after jackrabbits with my little brother Leon.

  In the summer the trees were rich green, and the sweet scent of peach juice filled the air. In the winter they were sparse, bony hands, reaching palms up to heaven. Branches like fingers spread, grasping for hope.

  Momma’s hazel eyes crinkled at the corners whenever she looked at me or my brothers or my daddy. Her sweet smile was warm sunshine when I got cold.

  She would wrap me in her arms and sing an old sad song when I was sleepy or cranky or “out of sorts,” which is how she’d put it. I pictured “sorts” as ivory dominoes I could line up and knock down or slap off the table, across the room. I’d pull her silky brown hair around me like a cape and close my eyes and breathe…

  Then she was gone.

  She went for a walk one crisp winter evening along the narrow, dirt road that runs past our orchard out to the old house on the hill. Frost was in the air; bonfires were burning. The man driving the truck said she came out of nowhere.

  He never saw her.

  She never saw him.

  Six weeks later, in that same orchard with peach blossoms on the trees and dew tipping the grass, on the very spot she died, my daddy took his life with his own gun.

  I guess sometimes love makes you forget things can get better.

  I guess he didn’t see a bend in the road up ahead.

  I guess he only saw a straight line leading deeper and deeper into black.

  My daddy was the star of his high school football team… but Life threw him a pass he couldn’t catch with Momma’s death.

  Our world changed forever that winter.

  Dolly says love is like a butterfly, soft and gentle as a sigh, but from what I’ve seen of love, I think it’s more like a tornado, shocking and violent and so powerful it can rip your soul out of your mouth…

  It’s faster than you can run, and it blows one house away while leaving the next one peacefully standing.

  I didn’t know which way love would take me, quietly or with the roar of a freight train. I should’ve known. I should’ve realized the moment I saw him.

  It was both. It was quiet as the brush of peach fuzz, but it left my insides in splinters. It twisted my lungs and lifted me up so high only to throw me down with a force that rang my ears and flooded my eyes.

  It all started the summer before they left, a month before my brother was sent to fight in a war everybody said was over.

  It all started in the kitchen of my momma’s house…

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  BOOKS BY TIA LOUISE

  ROMANCE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED

  THE BE STILL SERIES

  A Little Taste, 2023*

  A Little Twist, coming Sept. 2023*

  A Little Luck, coming Dec. 2023*

  (*Available on Audiobook.)

  THE HAMILTOWN HEAT SERIES

  Fearless, 2022*

  Filthy, 2022*

  For Your Eyes Only, 2022

  Forbidden, 2023*

  (*Available on Audiobook.)

  THE TAKING CHANCES SERIES

  Trouble*

  Twist of Fate*

  This Much is True*

  (*Available on Audiobook.)

  FIGHT FOR LOVE SERIES

  Boss of Me*

  Wait for Me*

  Here with Me*

  Reckless Kiss*

  (*Available on Audiobook.)

  BELIEVE IN LOVE SERIES

  Stay*

  Make Me Yours*

  Make You Mine

  (*Available on Audiobook.)

  SOUTHERN HEAT SERIES

  When We Kiss

  When We Touch

  THE ONE TO HOLD SERIES

  One to Hold (#1 - Derek & Melissa)*

  One to Keep (#2 - Patrick & Elaine)*

  One to Protect (#3 - Derek & Melissa)*

  One to Love (#4 - Kenny & Slayde)

  One to Leave (#5 - Stuart & Mariska)

  One to Save (#6 - Derek & Melissa)*

  One to Chase (#7 - Marcus & Amy)*

  One to Take (#8 - Stuart & Mariska)

  (*Available on Audiobook.)

  THE DIRTY PLAYERS SERIES

  PRINCE (#1)*