Page 1 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

Chapter 1

Georgia

I’ve been a lot of places, but I haven’t found anywhere better to start the day than at Breakfast at Britta’s in my hometown, little Paradise, Idaho. Maybe it’s the special-order roasts from all over the world. Or maybe it’s the selection of butter-rich pastries. Or possibly it’s the ebelskiver—golf-ball shaped Danish pancakes filled and topped with all kinds of deliciousness.

But most likely it’s the childhood memories served with them all.

I sit at the same table—far corner, next to the window—where I used to sit every day after school. Taylor Swift plays over the stereo. A palpable energy pulses from behind the counter where people I’ve known my entire life ring up orders and cook food I grew up eating.

That energy travels to the customers lined up to order and those already at tables, talking over steaming hot drinks and plates of ebelskiver. The sharp scent of coffee grounds mingles with the smell of sizzling butter to create a poignant reminder that, no matter how far I go, Paradise will always be home.

Zach waves to me from behind the counter, in his usual shirt and tie. The man loves to look sharp, but he looks out of place as he punches an order into the tablet. He isn’t supposed to be working, so I’m guessing he saw a need and jumped into help. His sister, Britta, is in the back manning her ebelskiver pans. The Thomsens own some of the most popular businesses in town and are always filling in at one place or another.

Even if they weren’t working twenty-four seven at the coffee shop, grocery store, and favorite local restaurant, the three brothers and their sister would be hard to miss. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, they could pass for supermodels, but to everyone here they’re just the Adam, Zach, Bear, and Britta. Since my own family moved away, the Thomsens are what makes Paradise still feel like home, even if I haven’t called it that in half a dozen years.

The moment Zach has a break in customers, he carries a mug to my table and sets it in front of me. “I guessed latte today.”

“You guessed right.”

Nobody knows me as well as Zach Thomsen, except maybe his twin brother Adam. We’ve all been friends since…well, forever. Our grandparents were friends. Our parents are friends. We started kindergarten together and shared most of the same classes in middle and high school.

But that’s not all that unusual in a small town like Paradise. When your high school has fewer than two hundred students total, you get to know people pretty well—for good or bad. The Thomsen Twins and me, though? I think we would have been friends no matter where we grew up. We’re all still friends now, even if Adam and I haven’t been as close since high school.

But Zach and me? We’ve stayed tight through my college years in Savannah and the last few in LA. It helps that he’s stayed here in Paradise, so every time I come back, I can count on seeing him. But we can always rely on each other to be “there,” no matter how far apart we are.

He’sthatfriend.

I take a sip of my latte and savor the smooth creamy texture with a hint of

lavender and honey but enough bite to still give me the caffeine kick I need.

“Perfect,” I sigh.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”

I give my head a small shake. “Not at all. Britta makes great lattes.” A smile tries to escape, but I pull it back.

“Psshh. You know I made it.” Zach narrows his eyes.

I laugh, and even though his eyes grow smaller, he can’t keep his mouth from splitting into a perfect, pearly-white toothed grin. “I’ve got news.”

“Tell me.” I cup my hands around my mug to warm them. They’re still cold after my short walk from Grandma Rose’s to here.

Zach’s eyes dart to the entrance, where more customers are filing in, then back to me. “I think I’ve found theone.”

“The one what?” The cup handle is warm and smooth under my fingers as I drink again.

Zach puts both hands on my table and leans close enough for me to see the dark rim around his cornflower blue irises. “Theone.” His mouth tugs to the side.

Panic rises in my chest so quickly I don’t have time to process where it comes from or why. I can only wait for him to tell mewhothe one is.

“The house where I could spend the rest of my life,” he continues. “You know, put down roots, start a family…adult.”

I loosen my grip on the coffee mug and breathe again, still unsure where my overreaction came from. I should have known he was talking about a house, not a woman.

Zach’s in real estate and I’m in home renovation, and we’re about to start a major project together. But even before the project, we talked about houses all the time. He’s been looking for his own place for years.

It’s the “start a family” that’s new.

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