Genre: New Adult (Contemporary Romance)
Date Published: September 14, 2017
Publisher: Abbi Glines Publishing LLC
Coordinated by: The Next Step PR, LLC
The day her mother passed away, Beulah was only given a name. That was it. No other explanation.
Portia Van Allan was not someone Beulah could believe her mother ever knew. Wealthy, self-absorbed and other than the fact Portia was supplying special care for Beulah’s sister, Portia was cruel.
The day Portia’s son returns home for the summer, Beulah discovers that Portia isn’t in charge. This isn’t her home at all. Her late husband left her with nothing. It all belongs to their son who doesn’t seem to like his mother at all.
Jasper Van Allan doesn’t know why his mother has hired a young gorgeous blonde to take care of the house and almost lets her go before he finds out the truth.
Realizing there’s more to Beulah than a stunning face, he keeps finding reasons to be near her all the time. It’s all falling into place, it all begins to make sense . . . until the real lies, the dark secrets, and the skeletons come tumbling out of the Van Allan closet. Twisted truths that will send Beulah running . . .
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I was given one day off every week to visit Heidi. The place that Portia paid for her to stay had family day on Sunday, and I visited rain or shine. We ate picnics I had prepared outside under the oak trees at the home. We played kickball, and I pushed Heidi on one of the many swings in the large backyard there.
The facility was always full of families and visitors. Heidi had one friend, however, that didn’t ever have family visit. She also had Down syndrome. Her name was May.
It bothered Heidi when May was left alone, so we made her a part of our family. I gave her the same special cookie treats I gave Heidi, and she played with us every Sunday. It was what I looked forward to every week. It was all I looked forward to.
But today, I wouldn’t be able to see my sister. Today, I would miss my visit. When I called Heidi to explain, she was sad. She didn’t say so, but her voice was quieter. It hurt my heart so much. I hated this. I also hated the people outside at the pool keeping me from visiting my sister. They were all spoiled, wealthy, rude, and full of themselves. All of them.
To add to the mayhem, the four boys had multiplied. As the music had gotten louder, the pool area and pool house got busier. The back of the house was alive and overrun with the guests Jasper had over.
I had been running in and out of the main house, keeping ice buckets filled with fresh ice, making sure beer was available, and that the bar was stocked with supplies for mixed drinks. When some blonde who looked like she could use a cheeseburger asked me to fetch her a glass of sparkling water and make sure the bubbles were tiny, I almost shoved her into the pool.
How was one supposed to make bubbles tiny? Did I blow on it a specific way? Or possibly spit in it? Because I liked the idea of spitting in it.
Hurrying back inside, I almost ran into Portia who once again had a glass of whiskey in her hand. It was just after two o’clock in the afternoon. I wasn’t judging, but I wondered if this visit was going to drive her to alcoholism.
“You can go tomorrow. Not all day of course. But for a few hours,” Portia said to me apologetically.
I paused. Then I looked at her and nodded my understanding. “Thank you.” She knew I was upset and she knew why. Another reason I felt Portia wasn’t all bad.
She grimaced. “Don’t. I’m just saying you can go for a few hours. They’ll call if you don’t visit. I would rather not deal with the drama.” With a flounce of her skirt, she walked away. The way her blonde hair floated as she moved reminded me of my mother. I missed my mother. She was nothing like Portia, but that one movement made me remember a happier time. Even if it was Portia that reminded me.
The ache in my chest eased knowing I would see Heidi tomorrow. I could take cupcakes—she loved them. That wouldn’t make up for today, but at least it would make her happy and she’d feel special and loved. I never wanted her to feel forgotten. Momma had never made her feel any different than other kids. I knew the home she lived in made her feel different now. But there was no other choice. Portia didn’t want her at her house.
“Do you know the difference in sparkling waters?” a deep voice asked me. Startled, I turned to see Winston standing there shirtless. He was wearing a pair of shorts that hung on his hips showing off a muscular build that was hard not to stare at. But I disliked him enough to ignore it.
“Why?” I asked him as I walked away.
He didn’t respond and I kept walking. He wasn’t my boss. He was the rude friend. I didn’t feel the need to listen to him make fun of my lack of sparkling water knowledge.
I could feel him following behind me. I wished he wouldn’t, but other than turning to tell him to go the hell away I was stuck with him. And Jasper didn’t care for me. At least, that was my guess. He wanted Ms. Charlotte and I wasn’t her. Making his friends angry wouldn’t help me keep this job. I needed to make this guy like me or at least approve of me.
Opening the fridge that contained ridiculous amounts of different waters—sparkling, mineral, and spring—I reached for the Perrier because differentiating bubble size made no sense.
“La Croix, not the Perrier,” Winston said from where he was watching behind me. “Smaller bubbles. It’s a fresher taste. Not that I think Isla knows the difference.”
I wanted to ignore him, but I didn’t want to deal with this Isla if I got her the wrong water, so I put the Perrier back and grabbed the La Croix. “Thanks,” I said begrudgingly, and then turned to head back outside.
The facility was always full of families and visitors. Heidi had one friend, however, that didn’t ever have family visit. She also had Down syndrome. Her name was May.
It bothered Heidi when May was left alone, so we made her a part of our family. I gave her the same special cookie treats I gave Heidi, and she played with us every Sunday. It was what I looked forward to every week. It was all I looked forward to.
But today, I wouldn’t be able to see my sister. Today, I would miss my visit. When I called Heidi to explain, she was sad. She didn’t say so, but her voice was quieter. It hurt my heart so much. I hated this. I also hated the people outside at the pool keeping me from visiting my sister. They were all spoiled, wealthy, rude, and full of themselves. All of them.
To add to the mayhem, the four boys had multiplied. As the music had gotten louder, the pool area and pool house got busier. The back of the house was alive and overrun with the guests Jasper had over.
I had been running in and out of the main house, keeping ice buckets filled with fresh ice, making sure beer was available, and that the bar was stocked with supplies for mixed drinks. When some blonde who looked like she could use a cheeseburger asked me to fetch her a glass of sparkling water and make sure the bubbles were tiny, I almost shoved her into the pool.
How was one supposed to make bubbles tiny? Did I blow on it a specific way? Or possibly spit in it? Because I liked the idea of spitting in it.
Hurrying back inside, I almost ran into Portia who once again had a glass of whiskey in her hand. It was just after two o’clock in the afternoon. I wasn’t judging, but I wondered if this visit was going to drive her to alcoholism.
“You can go tomorrow. Not all day of course. But for a few hours,” Portia said to me apologetically.
I paused. Then I looked at her and nodded my understanding. “Thank you.” She knew I was upset and she knew why. Another reason I felt Portia wasn’t all bad.
She grimaced. “Don’t. I’m just saying you can go for a few hours. They’ll call if you don’t visit. I would rather not deal with the drama.” With a flounce of her skirt, she walked away. The way her blonde hair floated as she moved reminded me of my mother. I missed my mother. She was nothing like Portia, but that one movement made me remember a happier time. Even if it was Portia that reminded me.
The ache in my chest eased knowing I would see Heidi tomorrow. I could take cupcakes—she loved them. That wouldn’t make up for today, but at least it would make her happy and she’d feel special and loved. I never wanted her to feel forgotten. Momma had never made her feel any different than other kids. I knew the home she lived in made her feel different now. But there was no other choice. Portia didn’t want her at her house.
“Do you know the difference in sparkling waters?” a deep voice asked me. Startled, I turned to see Winston standing there shirtless. He was wearing a pair of shorts that hung on his hips showing off a muscular build that was hard not to stare at. But I disliked him enough to ignore it.
“Why?” I asked him as I walked away.
He didn’t respond and I kept walking. He wasn’t my boss. He was the rude friend. I didn’t feel the need to listen to him make fun of my lack of sparkling water knowledge.
I could feel him following behind me. I wished he wouldn’t, but other than turning to tell him to go the hell away I was stuck with him. And Jasper didn’t care for me. At least, that was my guess. He wanted Ms. Charlotte and I wasn’t her. Making his friends angry wouldn’t help me keep this job. I needed to make this guy like me or at least approve of me.
Opening the fridge that contained ridiculous amounts of different waters—sparkling, mineral, and spring—I reached for the Perrier because differentiating bubble size made no sense.
“La Croix, not the Perrier,” Winston said from where he was watching behind me. “Smaller bubbles. It’s a fresher taste. Not that I think Isla knows the difference.”
I wanted to ignore him, but I didn’t want to deal with this Isla if I got her the wrong water, so I put the Perrier back and grabbed the La Croix. “Thanks,” I said begrudgingly, and then turned to head back outside.
This is one of my favorite authors! Please check out my reviews of some of her other books!
Abbi Glines is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of the Rosemary Beach, Sea Breeze, Vincent Boys, Field Party and Existence series. She never cooks unless baking during the Christmas holiday counts. She believes in ghosts and has a habit of asking people if their house is haunted before she goes in it. She drinks afternoon tea because she wants to be British but alas she was born in Alabama. When asked how many books she has written she has to stop and count on her fingers. When she’s not locked away writing, she is reading, shopping (major shoe and purse addiction), sneaking off to the movies alone, and listening to the drama in her teenagers lives while making mental notes on the good stuff to use later. Don’t judge.
You can connect with Abbi online in several different ways. She uses social media to procrastinate.
You can connect with Abbi online in several different ways. She uses social media to procrastinate.
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