Page 1 of Summer Ever After
Jane
Deedee Meyer holdsup aclinch coverbook.
You know the type I’m talking about—a bare-chested, muscular man with a swooning woman clinging to his chiseled body. The wind dramatically blows the woman’s hair back, and part of her dress falls off her tiny shoulder, creating the perfect amount of tantalizing cleavage.
This is the type of book Deedee suggests for our book club’s next read.
Sweet, seventy-eight-year-old Grandma Deedee.
She flips to a marked page and clears her throat before she begins reading a passage. “Clancy’s strong, capable hands clasp around my waist, pulling my body toward his. Rough calluses run over my silky skin, awakening my senses. I quiver against the hard planes of his manly chest.” Grandma Deedee’s voice goes higher when the woman talks, giving us a dramatic narration. “‘Clancy, I’ve never known the pleasures of a man before.’”
The pleasures of a man?
My eyes dart to Cat, another book club member. She looks effortlessly cute with her platinum-blonde hair and glasses—normally, she wears contacts, but I like the change-up tonight. Humor plays across her face as she watchesDeedee read out loud her favorite scene fromThe Haunted Cowboy and Me.
Don’t get me wrong. I love a good romance story as much as the next girl—okay, probablymorethan the next girl, and the girl after that, and the girl after that.
What can I say? Ilovelove.
I swoon over book boyfriends, feel my heart pound during love declarations in movies, sigh at sweet lyrics in songs. I’m a hopeless romantic, but having a spicy scene read out loud by Deedee Meyer makes me want to cover my ears with embarrassment.
Deedee is like a grandma to me, and I prefer not to have words likequiverandpleasures of a mancome out of her elderly mouth.
Ever.
It just…hits different.
I especially prefer that she not say them in the Seaside Oasis retirement center living room, where Bill Dahle and Harold Shuman play chess eight feet away.
Deedee’s voice goes low, becoming the rugged man from the cover. “‘Rita, I’ll show you just how soft a real cowboy can be.’ Clancy’s sandpaper hands trace up my back, velvety soft over my rib cage, finding their way to my?—”
“Okay!” I clap, purposely interrupting the scene. “I think we get the gist of that book. Thank you, Deedee, for your suggestion.”
Her light eyes flip to me over the edge of the book. There’s a little too much mischievousness in them for my liking. “But you stopped me before the best part.”
“We can fill in the blanks well enough.” A strained smile pulls over my lips as I glance at the other book club ladies.
We’re an interesting group with a wide range of ages. There are the elderly women: Deedee, Virginia, and Lu.Although, Lu usually snores in the recliner in the corner, so I’m not sure you can really count her as a book club member. And then the younger women: me, Cat, Holland, and Tala.
“Anyothersuggestions for next month's book? BesidesThe Haunted Cowboy and Me?” My stare pleads with the younger women to help me out.
“I liked Deedee’s book.” The corner of Virginia's wrinkly mouth lifts. “I want to know where Clancy’s hands ended up on Rita’s body.”
“I can easily tell you that.” Bill Dahle snickers behind us.
Oh. My. Goodness.
He was my Sunday school teacher.
My body winces in disgust.
Starting a book club at the Seaside Oasis retirement home was supposed to give the elderly people on the island a wholesome activity to look forward to each month. But they’re taking my wholesome activity and scandalizing it.
“Holland?” I swing my eyes to her to save the moment. “Do you have any suggestions for a book for next month? It’s the beginning of summer, so maybe something beachy.”
She twists her long blonde hair behind her as if she’s going to pull it into a low bun but releases it instead, letting the strands unravel down her back. “What about a romance? Like a Sunny Palmer book. I heardSecret Crushwas really good.”
“Uh…” I exchange a glance with Tala. She’s the only other person who knows the real truth about who the author Sunny Palmer is and why I need to deflect right now. “Sunny Palmer is so popular. Maybe we could read a lesser-known author.”
