The Kiss List Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Find your Bliss with these great releases… A Valentine Proposal

  Mismatched in Mayhem

  The Sheriff’s Little Matchmaker

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Sonya Weiss. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  10940 S Parker Rd

  Suite 327

  Parker, CO 80134

  [email protected]

  Bliss is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Stacy Abrams

  Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes

  Cover photography by Photographee.eu, Yuganov Konstantin, and Africa Studio/Shutterstock

  ISBN 978-1-68281-530-4

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition February 2020

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

  xoxo

  Liz Pelletier, Publisher

  For the minions, always.

  Chapter One

  The sports bar was dimly lit, crowded, and it was hard to think—much less talk—over the din. Just the way Haley Bowman wanted it. She was tired of the stares, tired of the humiliation she’d endured since her breakup video had gone viral thanks to the celebrity news crew that had been stationed outside the venue at the Hollywood premiere.

  Haley wanted to try to forget it—at least for tonight—enjoy the sports talk show, and hope, as the host had mentioned, that her beloved Pittsburgh Steelers would make it to the playoffs.

  Some thickly bearded guy swaddled in a puffy coat—you’d think it was the bitter cold of January instead of early November—started heckling the television.

  He held his beer aloft and slurred, “The Patriots are gonna kick the Steelers to the curb. No doubt, no doubt.”

  His arrogance reminded Haley of Max Gallagher, also a die-hard Patriots fan and her nemesis starting the day she’d first set foot inside the elementary school they’d both attended. The day before Valentine’s Day, he’d tugged on her ponytail, and when she’d whipped around in her seat to confront him, the momentum had spun her onto the floor. She’d skinned her knees and cried, and the room had filled up with laughter.

  When Valentine’s Day arrived and she’d given everyone in the class a cute “Be My Valentine” card, she’d drawn him one on a torn, muddy piece of paper and said she didn’t want him to be her valentine.

  Later, they’d run against each other in student elections (she won), were neck and neck for valedictorian (he snagged that one—probably by cheating), and competed for the same summer job (neither one got it). He’d always known what to say to push every single one of her buttons and always did so with a smirk.

  She moved past the drunk and suddenly bumped into him: the very same bane of her existence. Her breath whooshed from her lungs as her stomach drew into a knot. If Max’s looks mirrored his personality, he’d be a slimy blobfish, but one of life’s many unfair deals was that Max was as hot as—no, hotter than—ever. Though she hated admitting that to herself and would die before admitting it to him.

  His height forced her head back to look up at him. His brown hair was still thick and long enough to touch the bottom of his shirt collar. It looked as soft as it always had, even though there was nothing soft about the man himself.

  He either weight trained regularly or worked hard, and the muscles showing below his shirtsleeves attested to that. They locked eyes, and his sometimes-blue, sometimes-green ones regarded her with the same horror that was no doubt showing on her face. Of course, he’d probably heard she was back in town without knowing she’d made herself scarce on purpose.

  Since returning three weeks ago, she’d stayed home as much as possible, trying to avoid people, hoping some of the video infamy would die down. Of all the people to avoid, Max was number one. To this day they still had an ongoing battle of one-upmanship, and she’d wanted some time to regroup before the first run-in.

  She searched his handsome face with the slight five o’clock shadow and the strong jaw hidden beneath it, and remembered the last words he’d said to her: that she was making a mistake by leaving town. Smug Max, always thinking he’s right.

  The braggy drunk executed a goofy dance and lifted his beer high over his head. “The Patriots are gonna pour out a beating as sure as this.” He let out a whoop.

  Haley watched, transfixed, as the man began to tip the mug.

  Max grabbed her and swung her first one way, then another, and she ended up directly under the shower of beer. The cold brew drenched her hair, cascaded down her face, and soaked the sweater that had belonged to her late mother. She stood dripping, her mouth open. Then she snapped her lips together and glared at Max.

  “You. Did. That. On. Purpose.”

  He stared at her and then held his hands out like he was warding off an evil spirit. “No,” he snort-chuckled, “I swear. I was trying to get you out of the way. Someone bumped my arm.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  The drunk shoved the center of Haley’s back, and she lurched forward. “Aww…honey, kiss and make up.”

  “Hey!” Max scowled and started toward the guy, slipped on the spilled beer, and his arms windmilled. He tried to grab for the bar, grabbed Haley instead, and they went down in a tangle of limbs. She ended up straddling Max, her hands splayed on his chest, while cell phones sprang to life. The picture-snapping clicks rose to a crescendo. Several people recorded.

  OMG. No! Not another video. “This is your fault, Max Gallagher!” She tried to scramble up, and her foot—and all her weight—pressed on a point high on his thigh. He sucked in a breath, let out a garbled word, grabbed her foot, and Haley fell backward onto her butt.

  The seconds that followed were a chaotic mess. Max writhed on the floor, his face a mask of pain. Haley was lifted up by the bouncer, her arms pulled behind her back, and she was hauled out of the bar. The next thing she knew, she was at the police station and placed in the drunk tank with the door slamming shut behind her.

  Arrested on a drunk and disorderly when she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. Charged with an assault she hadn’t committed. All because of Max Gallagher.

  …

  When Haley was finally freed, she assumed her father had come down to the station and sprung her, but it was Max who waited in the lobby. Just what she needed at the moment: more of Max. She pinned him with a glare. “Hoping I’d get life?”

  He had the good sens
e not to find the situation amusing. “I explained everything.”

  “Not until after I was arrested and hauled in. You couldn’t have stopped it before the bouncer dragged me outside and hand delivered me to the officer?”

  “I was incapacitated. You single-handedly killed my ability to father children.” He pushed open the door leading outside to the parking lot. “I also told them you didn’t assault me—not that you haven’t wanted to at many points in your life.”

  Haley thought he could have left that part off. She poked her index finger into the center of his chest. “You owe me a favor now.” She waved off his offer of a ride home. Her father’s house wasn’t that far, just a few blocks away, and she could use the time to clear her head. She needed to make plans. To set some sort of new life course, but at the moment, trying to keep a low profile was the prudent thing to do. Along with avoiding Max.

  It was beginning twilight—that beautiful time of day when the sky wore soft pink and hazy purple colors—and that made Haley think about long-ago days running around the town square with her friends Piper and Roxy. They were the first ones she’d called when the video had erupted across social media. The friends who’d always had her back.

  Nostalgia brought a sigh as a breeze kicked up and scattered a handful of fallen leaves on the sidewalk. Haley caught a wind-whipped whiff of herself. She smelled like beer and disappointment.

  This was so not how she’d expected her venture out tonight to end, and she allowed a few minutes of feeling sorry for herself before she shook it off. Wallowing in pity was not who she was. Tonight was just a fumble.

  She walked past the ballet school where she’d taken all of two classes before refusing to go back. She wasn’t a ballet girl. She was country through and through, with slight gusts of rock ’n’ roll. Turning past the baseball card shop where she used to see a young Max press his nose against the window, she walked down the street she’d grown up on. Memories of playing tag with the neighborhood kids, barking dogs, the shrill of the ice cream truck, and the thrum of sprinklers in the summer washed over her.

  At her father’s house, she let herself in, grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer, and settled on the sofa to watch the video of herself getting dumped. She should really give up watching it, but she was drawn to her own personal horror show. She replayed the scene repeatedly, embarrassed anew at the deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.

  She was supposed to have been behind the scenes. All the reporters and cameras at the red carpet event should have focused on the bankable actor at the premiere of his latest movie. Instead, the celebrity news reporter had swung his camera a little to the left and caught her getting loudly and humiliatingly dumped by the actor’s publicist.

  The fallout had been costly. Her boss at the PR company was her ex-boyfriend’s sister, so she’d lost her job. Her landlord, a close friend of the ex-boyfriend, refused to renew the rental contract. She’d found herself jobless and without a roof over her head, so she’d fled to the only safe haven she’d known: Cherry Creek, North Carolina.

  Not that she was sorry to be back in the place she’d thought of as home.

  She’d always planned a future move back to the small town where she’d learned to ride a bike, drive a car, and that some boys (Max) sucked big time.

  Several months before the video, her ex-boyfriend had mentioned eventually moving to North Carolina with her. He was on the same page—wanting a life away from the rat race. Same page? Ha! We weren’t even in the same book. He’d been too busy booking someone else in the role of girlfriend.

  The humiliation continued to burn. In the time since she’d returned, she’d done a whole lot of hiding and, until the bar debacle, only went out when she absolutely had to. She was constantly greeted with a “Hey, you’re that girl!” followed by a picture snap and judgmental look immediately after she’d been recognized. Sigh.

  The only upside to that awful viral incident that she’d cringe-watched at least a million times, counting tonight, was that her hair had rocked the event.

  She twisted a strand of the long brown hair around one finger, absently thinking she needed to do her highlights again. Enough. Pull it together.

  Haley straightened her slouch. Okay, sure, the future I’d thought was mine crumbled faster than my will to avoid chocolate, but my cheating ex is wrong in saying women shouldn’t expect a “real man” to be faithful. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the memory. He was also wrong when he’d called her a dreamer and said she’d never find the starry-eyed, forever kind of love she was searching for.

  There was nothing wrong with wanting love, with desiring the same kind of strong relationship her parents had proved existed. Despite the passing of years and the career moves she’d made, she still wanted that love, and since it wasn’t exactly falling into her lap, it was up to her to go after it.

  Love was so happening for her this year. She’d be in a committed relationship with The One before the year was out. How, she didn’t know. But surely after all the bad she’d endured, something—or rather, someone—good was going to come along.

  Clutching the remainder of the ice cream, she eased back down on the cushions and had started to drift to sleep when Piper called.

  “I’m at the door. Open up; it’s freezing.”

  Haley scurried to the door to let her in.

  Piper shivered as she peeled off her hooded jacket. “I can’t stay long. I have to get back to the office, but I heard what happened at the bar and came to check on you.”

  Haley was touched by her friend’s concern. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

  Piper’s mouth turned down at the corners when she noticed what was paused on the TV. “You shouldn’t watch the video.”

  “I know, but I keep going over it, trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

  “Hmph. You didn’t do anything wrong. You trusted a guy who couldn’t be trusted, that’s all.”

  Haley didn’t want to talk about her gullibility. To change the subject, she looked at the clock on the mantel. “You’re going back to the office this late? Do you have an upcoming wedding?” Piper worked as a wedding planner and, for the past three weeks, had been putting in long hours.

  “No. There’s a problem. Money that clients have paid as retainers is missing.”

  Haley gasped. “No. Do you think it’s that new woman you hired?”

  “Maybe, but I can’t share this with my boss.”

  “Why not? Muriel loves you. She’d understand.” Muriel had been there for Piper when her friend had aged out of the foster care system and didn’t have a place to go.

  Piper shook her head. “I know she would, but she doesn’t need the stress. She hasn’t been feeling well, and I don’t want to make it worse. I’ll tell her once I know what’s really going on.” She let out a sigh. “I have to figure it out quickly, though. Muriel’s been talking about getting her son to come in from Seattle to help out with the business so she can take a break.”

  “Carter helping in the wedding-planning business?” Haley let the doubt show on her face. Everyone in town knew that Carter Dixon and marriage didn’t belong together in the same sentence any more than peanut butter belonged on a sandwich with mayonnaise.

  “I know, right?” Piper gestured toward the ice cream container. “Do you need me to go pick up some more of that for you before I head to the office to burn the midnight oil?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Okay. Then call me if you need me.” Piper put her jacket back on and then tipped her head toward the TV. “Get some sleep.”

  “I will.”

  After Piper left, Haley sat back down on the sofa with the ice cream and replayed the video. How had she missed the clues? She wished the video would just go away. She wanted peace and quiet in her life. Surely that wasn’t too much to hope for.

  …

  Wakin
g the next morning when her cousin, Suzie—queen of air kisses and snarky comments about Haley’s hair/weight/boyfriend-less status—let herself into the house, that hope seemed nearly unattainable.

  “You slept on the couch again?” Suzie marched toward her, loudly clomping her heels on the floor to gingerly take the crumpled ice cream container away. Dropping it in the sink, she rinsed her hands. “Get up, Haley. You’re going to be late for my bachelorette party, and I can’t afford to keep the fortune-teller waiting.”

  Haley groaned, not wanting to go to that or the impending Valentine’s Day wedding. Suzie’s fiancé worked overseas and would be traveling during the month of December and all of January, and Suzie had the chance to go with him. She’d insisted the wedding preparations needed to be taken care of within the next few weeks before she left. Haley had never even confirmed if she was going to the wedding, and it wasn’t as if she and her cousin had kept in touch.

  She and Suzie had once been close, even attended the same college, but had fallen out after her cousin accused her of dating a guy she’d liked. Haley hadn’t known that, and if she had, she would have gladly backed off.

  Though Haley loved her cousin, Suzie could hold a grudge like no one else. No matter how many times she’d tried to restore the relationship, Suzie refused to budge.

  Haley didn’t want to put up with the meanness or endure the singles table for yet another family wedding, listening to whispers about a plus-one invitation for her being as useless as high heels on an ice-covered sidewalk. Haley Bowman botches relationships. Bless her heart. That’s what they’d say. What they always said. She couldn’t face the great aunts and their loving but meddling interference that made her want to pull her hair out.

  She reluctantly roused enough to get up and pour a cup of coffee, then sat at the kitchen table in the rambling old house she’d grown up in. Suzie showed off the new sample wedding invitations she’d chosen, then studied Haley critically with pursed lips.

  “Go ahead. What is it this time?” Haley asked. Suzie believed she was being helpful with her brutally honest opinions. Emphasis on the “brutal.” Haley braced herself.