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Chapter 1
Leia – a single mom who doesn’t have time for a bass player who thinks he can tell her how to be a parent no matter how sexy he is
Leia
I smile as I dump the last box on the porch. It’s taken me a month to unpack all of our boxes but it’s done. Isla and I finally have our very own home.
It’s been more than eleven years since my daughter’s birth but I did it. I’ve fulfilled my dream. I have a job that challenges me and pays the bills. And we have our own adorable little house in the small town of Winter Falls.
I tilt my head back and enjoy the view of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. I inhale and breathe in the crisp, fresh air. Isla and I are going to be very happy living here.
The door flies open behind me. “There you are.”
I ruffle Isla’s hair. “Was I lost?”
She rolls her eyes. Those blue eyes are the exact same shade as mine. Her blonde curly hair is the same as mine as well. She’s my mini-me. The only trait she has from her father is her height. She’s nearly as tall as me already. Which isn’t saying much since I’m barely five feet tall.
“Are you done?” Isla asks.
“Done with what?”
She motions toward the boxes. “Housework.”
I snort. I’m a single mom. I’m never done with housework. “Maybe,” I hedge.
“Good. Let’s play.” Subtlety doesn’t work on my daughter. It never has.
I still need to break down these boxes and haul them to the recycling center. I also need to finish a load of laundry, do the dishes, and clean the bathroom. And those are just my household chores.
I also have a ton of work from my boss, Brody Bragg. Being the personal assistant of a brilliant game developer with his own company is more than a full-time job. And Brody does not help matters. He assigns me tasks but never provides me with the information I need to complete them.
We’ve had more than one argument. If my life was a romance novel, he’d be the grumpy boss I fall in love with. But this isn’t a romance novel. Plus, Brody’s in love with Soleil, the mother of his daughter, Meadow, and he lives with them. Unlike my baby daddy who couldn’t escape quick enough once Isla was born.
I shove all thoughts of how demanding my boss can be and how much boring housework I have to do out of my mind. It’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon and I’m finally finished unpacking. We should be celebrating.
“What do you want to play?”
Isla beams up at me. “Tag.”
I groan. I hate playing tag and she knows it. Whereas my daughter loves to run, I hate it. When your legs are short stumps, running is no fun. As I discovered in high school when I thought joining the cross-country team was a great way to make friends my freshman year. It wasn’t.
“This porch is home base,” she says. “And you can’t stand here and wait for me.” She darts off to hide before I have the chance to protest.
I turn around to count to fifty. One, two, three…
“You have to count out loud!”
I start again. “One, two, three…”
I hit fifty and whirl around. “Ready or not, here I come!”
I hear a giggle near the side of the house. My daughter loves to play tag but she sucks at hiding. She thinks being a fast runner means she doesn’t need to hide well. She isn’t wrong.
I pretend to search the area and circle the house in the other direction. As soon as I’m out of her view, I start running as fast as I can which, admittedly, isn’t very fast.
I race all the way around the house until I’m directly behind Isla. I slow and tiptoe toward her. I’ve nearly reached her when she glances behind and sees me.
“Gotcha!”
