How to Catch a Kiss (Kisses & Commitment) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Excerpt

  Author’s Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Sarah Gay

  How to Catch a Kiss

  Sarah Gay

  Literary Evolution

  Published by Literary Evolution

  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Gay

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedication

  Dedicated to all those who have lost the loves of their lives. Specifically, Nannette Tibbitts, Carol Jacobson, Linda Blanton, and Kristin Wells.

  Nan, my sister-in-law, was the inspiration for How to Catch a Kiss. Her husband, Ryan, fought a good fight, but ultimately lost the battle to cancer in the summer of 2016. He left behind a grieving wife of twenty-seven years and five children.

  Carol Jacobson was my dear grandmother. She related a tender story to me. While my grandfather sat in the corner of the room, she tearfully recounted the death by train accident of her fiancé. My sweet grandfather married her knowing that she would always mourn the loss of her first love.

  Linda Blanton, my sister-in-law, lost her husband in the spring of 2016.

  Kristin Wells, a dear friend, lost her husband and their two children to a plane crash in the spring of 2017. She is a beacon of strength and faith.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Excerpt

  Author’s Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Sarah Gay

  Foreword

  Hello fabulous readers,

  It’s an honor to do this introduction for Sarah. Not only is she a gifted writer, but she’s also warm, funny, wicked-smart, and generous. Oh, and she makes the best sushi on the planet! Sarah has a knack for crafting vivid stories that stay with you long after the last page is turned. Her books have such a strong sense of place, making me want to savor every word. How to Catch a Kiss is a touching, tender story about loss and a second chance to rediscover hope and find love. I was drawn in from the first page and couldn’t put it down. I laughed and cried with the characters … and stayed up way too late devouring pages to find out what happened.

  So pull up a comfy chair and clear your schedule because you’re going to love this book!

  Happy reading,

  Jennifer Youngblood

  Bestselling author of How To See With Your Heart

  Visit Jennifer’s Amazon Page

  Introduction

  A fellow author asked me recently to give her a quote for a book she’s writing on publishing. She asked, “What’s the single most important thing you’ve done to have success in writing?” I gave it a lot of thought over weeks and weeks and was surprised when I came up with this: “Finding good writing friends.”

  “I’m still surprised at how accurate that statement is. Writing is such a solitary venture with hours and hours spent alone with no feedback, encouragement, or reward other than what you pull from inside. But this tribe of writers I’ve been blessed to find myself involved with has been essential in maximizing the heights I can reach.

  Jennifer Youngblood, Came Checketts, and Sarah Gay are outstanding writers—the awards they’ve won and reviews they’ve earned prove it. Their Romance excels in that connection we crave, the conflict that drives the story, and the happy ending that makes everything worth it.

  When it comes to Kisses and Commitment, these ladies are at the top of their game. And each of them offers something a little bit their own, as well.

  Cami Checketts is one of the nicest and kindest people you’ll ever meet. Yes, nice and kind, which are different and both important. She makes a killer jalapeño jelly, which is a perfect taste of home to this Arizona-born boy. I’ve edited over 20 of Cami’s books and I love her witty, sharp dialogue. The other thing Cami rocks are twists; they come exactly when you don’t expect them, even when you are expecting them you can’t see them coming!

  Sarah Gay has a very diverse background, which helps her write diverse characters so well. She brought her family up to my fire station last week to do some prep work for an upcoming Firefighter series we are collaborating on. I’ve known since the first Sarah Gay chapter I read that she goes deep with her characters, and it was only driven home by the interview questions she asked me and my crew when she visited the station. Sarah’s characters come off as real, because they are so well known by the author. There are pages and pages about the backstories that never make it into the book.

  Jennifer Youngblood is the Southern belle of our group. You meet her and within two minutes you believe in Southern hospitality and manners, even if you’ve never been further “South” than Texas. (Seriously, if you ever have a chance to go to any events to meet her, DO IT! She will bring a slice of the South into your life.) As far as her writing, Jennifer has a way of getting into the heads of the characters so that I feel like I am right there with them. Living in their world, falling in love, overcoming obstacles. She doesn’t just give you a list of events, she makes you experience them.

  -Daniel Banner, Author of How to Find a Keeper

  1

  Tori’s hands trembled anxiously as she pushed up off the uncomfortable seat of the metal folding chair. She adjusted her sitting position to relieve the shooting pain in her bottom. Jim had always teased her about her bony bum when she sat on his lap.

  It was a hot one. And it was never hot in Park City. But today, in this heat, she longed to be on a Mexican beach, tickling Jim’s arm as the salty ocean breeze cooled her coconut scented body, not in a cemetery.

  A blinding light stunned her pupils, causing her to blink uncontrollably. She reached for the sunglasses on top of her head as she tilted her face, squinting to avoid the harsh afternoon sunlight. Not there. She raised her leg slightly, and, using the heel of her black stiletto shoe, opened the tan, leather shoulder bag at her feet.

&n
bsp; The cherry red sunglasses Jim had given her for her last birthday rested atop her lime green Coach wallet, another present. She could afford to buy herself those things, but he was a gift-giver. It was his way of showing his affection for her. She sighed in resignation. Tori’s complete emotional exhaustion prevented her from bending over to recover the sunglasses. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip and trickled down the back of her neck.

  How could they be burying her husband on a sunny day, when families were having picnics in the park, and adventurers were climbing mountains? Weren’t funerals in the movies always staged in the rain? Why did the skies not echo her sorrow?

  Gussie, Tori’s identical twin sister, stood to place a white lily on the casket. Her navy blue, silk dress fluttered over her body like an afternoon ripple across a secluded mountain lake. Gussie sobbed. She leaned over to rest her forehead on the casket, and, as she ran her hands along the seam of the lacquered, copper embellished box, the hem of her dress raised up to caress her upper-thigh. In her early thirties, Gussie still had the perfect body. The scene would have sent a priest to confession.

  Tori took in a sharp, nervous breath, and glanced back at the rows of mourners behind her. She shook her head in disappointment. Only a handful of men who weren’t family had the class, or previous marital training, to look away.

  Gussie, despite her name, was a gorgeous run-way model. Tori had had her day in the spotlight, along-side Gussie in those revealing evening gowns that made her feel like a movie star. They were quite the dynamic duo. That was before her pregnancy. Tori no longer dressed to impress. None of that glam and pretense appealed to her now. Nothing appealed to her now, and most likely never would, ever again.

  Why wasn’t she crying uncontrollably? Was this the shock stage of grief that friends whispered with sideways glances in her direction?

  Whispers.

  Why was whispering allowed in a civilized society? It was the worst form of torture.

  Tori felt a tug on her arm. She looked down at her eight-year-old, toe-head son. His eyes were tired, but not as red as hers.

  “I’m hungry,” Ethan whispered with a pleading face that shot a dart into Tori’s heart.

  “Me too,” she lied. She hadn’t been hungry in days. When did she last eat?

  After the funeral services at the church, Ethan had devoured a few treats from a brown paper sack that a well-wishing neighbor had placed into his hands. Her boy was always hungry. He took after his daddy, the ex-collegiate football player. Ethan wasn’t overweight. He was merely your average boy destined to be six-foot-six. He was growing, always growing.

  “We’ll eat soon. Our neighbors made us a big, yummy lunch.”

  He gave a courtesy nod of acceptance, then rested his eyes on the turned earth at their feet.

  If only I were the one in the freshly churned earth. Please, let us get through this day, Tori pleaded silently as she placed her arm around Ethan’s waist and pulled him in close.

  The pale blue, Egyptian cotton sheets rose and fell with Tori’s every breath. She had been lying in bed with the covers over her head since before sunrise. She didn’t have the energy to take a shower, or even brush her teeth. That would normally disgust her, but, at the moment, she couldn’t care less.

  It was exactly six months-ago-today, when her husband took his last painful breath. He had refused the heavy painkillers—a true-grit cowboy.

  Why did he leave her like this? Tori beat the mattress with her fist. He had left her all alone to raise their son.

  Nothingness weighed Tori down, deep into her mattress. The front door’s slam jarred her from her angry thoughts. She touched the iPhone on her nightstand. Relief trickled through her veins. Ethan would make his bus. She lifted her eyes to Jim’s photo on the nightstand. “We were so happy. I’ll never be that happy again.” How was it possible to be in so much pain and still be alive? “Are you waiting for me in heaven?” She touched his face with the tip of her finger then pulled the sheets back over her head.

  Why was she so tired all the time? She would start taking those supplements that Gussie had brought over—Bs, Ds, Cs, and one other. Maybe if she started designing again? She had been one of the top interior designers in Park City. Five years ago, a close friend who was involved with the Salt Lake City Parade of Homes asked her to showcase.

  After 20,000 people strolled through Tori’s home, and word got out that she’d decorated it herself, she was a wanted woman. When Jim died, she no longer found joy in designing, nor in anything else, really. Tori had passed the torch on to her eagerly awaiting assistant.

  Get out of bed! That is the most important thing to do, if nothing else, her therapist had said.

  Positive thinking. She couldn’t think of one positive thing. How ungrateful she’d become.

  Tori pulled herself out of bed and started the shower.

  Number one: Warm water. Some places in the world didn’t have warm water. She was proud of herself for having counted one blessing. It was three degrees outside and cloudy, but she had warm water.

  Tori sat on the edge of the copper clawfoot tub and gazed out the picture window. The weepy, dense snow caused the evergreen branches, tipped with thousands of glistening icicles, to bow down toward the earth. Even the snow was icicled. Tori shivered. The worst part of getting into the shower on a frosty morning was undressing and walking on the cold, stone floor. Those few seconds of exposure seemed to stretch out into infinity.

  A wondrous thought came to mind; if she never removed her clothes, then she wouldn’t get cold. Why had she not thought of that before? Genius.

  Tori swung open the glass shower door, and stepped under the cascading waterfall. The sheet of water blanketed her body in moist warmth. Her nightgown clung to her body as she leaned against the rough, gray and copper stone wall.

  “Tori!”

  Startled, Tori jumped, hitting her head against the corner of the stone soap holder. She turned as Gussie pried open the glass door. The heat rose in her face. She would have rather been found naked, than discovered bathing in her clothes.

  Gussie’s face scrunched with worry. “Are you okay? Why were you crumpled into the wall like that?”

  “You scared me to death!” Tori willed her heart to calm.

  “Drama.” Gussie dropped her hands to either side. “Obviously not to death.” She paused, her eyes studying Tori as she rested a hand on her popped-out hip. “Why the slip?” Gussie utilized her trademark hip-pop-hand-stance. It was this same exaggerated expression, with its demand for a convincing response, that brought many grown men to tears.

  “It was dirty.” Tori motioned to her nightgown. “This is a more organic way of washing it. Silk shouldn’t be laundered industrially.”

  Gussie twisted up one side of her face in confusion, but her look quickly transformed into concern. “Oh no, you’re bleeding.”

  Tori reached her hand up to where her head had met the unrelenting stone. Warm fluid trickled through her fingers. As she tilted her chin into her chest, the tan Tuscan tile at her feet swirled pink. Her mind went dizzy, and the nausea commenced. She quickly closed her eyes and envisioned lying calmly in her soft bed, but the vertigo continued. She had the weakest stomach of anyone she knew.

  Suddenly, Gussie’s hands clamped around Tori’s back, holding her up from under her arms. It brought back memories of Tori’s first dance as a thirteen-year-old with Andy what’s-his-name.

  Rambo’s bells jingled at Tori’s feet as his leathery tongue tickled her ankles. His fluffy hair turned to cat-like, whiskery strands.

  “Do I need staples?” Tori grew more anxious. “Or stitches?”

  “It’s not that deep,” Gussie comforted. “There was a lot of blood at first, but it’s almost completely gone.”

  “Gussie, you’re soaked through.”

  “No worries. I’ll count this toward the sauna time I was planning on taking tonight.”

  “Thanks, sweetie. Sorry to get you wet.”

  Gu
ssie laughed. “I guess my clothes could use a washing as well.”

  Two, she was thankful for Gussie, whose black and gold eye make-up ran down her face—like a heavy metal artist ready to take the stage.

  With the help of her sister, Tori stepped out of the shower into the carpeted closet where she removed her suctioned gown with great difficulty. She wouldn’t attempt that one again.

  Tori toweled herself dry. “No photo shoot today?”

  “Nope,” Gussie sputtered, lathering a foaming cleanser into her face at the sink. “Tori, you okay?” Gussie’s intonation marked her concern.

  “Define okay. One minute I’m crying. The next, I’m beating my mattress in anger. Then the next, I feel nothing.”

  Gussie dabbed her face with the towel then moved to the closet to change her clothes. “Nothing?”

  “The crazy thing is, I’m not scared of the anger, or the grief. But I’m terrified of that nothing feeling. Nothing matters anymore.”

  “Do you remember what you told me after Casey left me?”

  Tori shook her head out of frustration. “I hope you’re not comparing Jim dying, to your ex-husband walking out on you.” She slipped on a black cotton dress.

  “You’re angry at everyone, and everything right now. I get it.” Gussie sighed. “I was there.”