On Tour with Prism Book Tours
Just when you think you’ve met your match . . . the charade begins.
Cassie Everson is an expert at escaping bad first dates. And, after years of meeting, greeting, and running from the men who try to woo her, Cassie is almost ready to retire her hopes for a husband—and children—altogether.
But fate has other plans, and Cassie’s online dating profile catches the eye of firefighter Jett Bentley. In Jett’s memory, Cassie Everson is the unreachable girl-of-legend from their high school days. Nervously, he messages her, setting off a chain of events that forces a reluctant Cassie back into the dating game.
No one is more surprised than Cassie when her first date with Jett is a knockout. But when they both go home and find three children dropped in their laps—each—they independently decide to do the right and mature thing: hide the kids from each other while sorting it all out. What could go wrong?
Melissa Ferguson’s hilarious and warmhearted debut reminds us that love can come in very small packages—and that sometimes our best-laid plans aren’t nearly as rewarding and fun as the surprises that come our way.
Jett whispered tersely, pointing to the thrown items. “Drew. Pick. Up. Your. Macaroni.”
Drew looked up at him while shoveling another handful—literally, as in hand without the spoon—of macaroni into his mouth. “Can’t. I’m a dinosaur. Dinosaurs don’t have hands.”
Jett’s uncle stifled a smile.
Jett himself stifled a look that would’ve slid that smile right off his uncle’s face. He set the fork down and stood. “Young man . . .”
Working with Drew at an agonizing pace to place thirty-three pieces of macaroni back into the Tupperware, Jett resettled in his chair just in time for coffee.
Aunt Neena, still attempting to hold TJ, settled a quaking cup and saucer before Jett.
“Honey, let me have him for a minute. I’ve hardly gotten a chance to see him.” Jett’s uncle reached up for TJ, but his wife turned away.
“You’ll get your chance, too, Ron. This is my time with my great nephew.” She put a protective hand around TJ, whose wide, blue eyes stared at Jett as she settled back into her high-backed, button-tufted chair. Unsteadily, she picked up her cup. “These children have the sweetest smiles.”
That was false. When Dakota and TJ smiled, it was sweet. When Drew smiled, you got the feeling it was because he’d discovered your weakness.
“So, Jett, tell us about this new situation of yours.”
“Sure, I, uh—” Jett pinched his forefinger and thumb together as he picked up the exceedingly small, ornately curved handle of a porcelain Turkish coffee cup with roughly a third the capacity of TJ’s bottle. “Trina showed up at my apartment last week when—” He raised his voice, interrupting himself. “Guys, get off the couch. Stop. Do not throw the pillows.”
Drew and Dakota paused, both arms loaded with one of the half dozen throw pillows arranged on the white canvas couch. When had his aunt and uncle become so civilized? In his childhood, visits to their home meant watching baseball games while eating corn dogs on a green plaid couch. Everything back then was striped wallpaper and wood paneling.
Now the place was covered in white: white walls, white couches, white dining room tables with white candlesticks lighting white china over a white rug. As a conscientious temporary parent in the dead of winter, all he wanted to do was round up all the interior designers and shoot them with paintball guns. With brown paint, for all the mud the kids inevitably carried in the house. With red, for all the juice spills and blood. And with every other color of the rainbow so no stone was left unturned.
Jett took a sip of his coffee—thereby draining it—and prepared to start again. Before he could do so, he was interrupted by the squeaking of springs. He stood quickly. “Drew, what did I just tell you? Get off of the couch. No, stop jumping—Drew!”
About the Author
Melissa Ferguson is an adjunct professor for the Bible and religion at King University. She lives in the charming town of Bristol, Tennessee, with her husband, twin toddlers, and baby girl. She used to have hobbies like running and backpacking the Appalachian Trail outside her door. Now her hobbies include admiring the Appalachian Trail out her minivan window while singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” en route to the library.