Ultimate Sweethearts Book Bundle

Taking the Chance

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐"It was amazing, beautiful, heartbreaking, heart healing and funny when it needed to be so basically it has ALL THE FEELS! I read this book in one sitting, totally blocked out the world for a couple of hours and loved every freaking second of it!" --Amazon Reviewer

A new widow. A positive pregnancy test. And an old friend who offers her a place to stay.

I never imagined my life would end up this way.

I thought I had everything figured out until I got the call my husband’s been killed in a car accident and realized my period is late.

With no one else to turn to, I run to a familiar face at my husband’s funeral. Luke. My husband’s ex-best friend and my once-upon-a-time confidante.

As the truth of my predicament tumbles out of me, he offers me a place to stay.

And because I’m desperate and vulnerable...I accept.

After all, what other choice do I have?

Off Limits

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐"Oh how I love Kelsie Rae's books. She is my first and currently only one click author. I will read anything and everything she writes. Rhett and Indie have amazing chemistry and the flirting is strong with these two. Love!"-- Amazon Reviewer

A girl stuck in her routine. A flirty new neighbor who pushes her out of it. And a potential future they’d be fools to give up.

I've always been a routine kind of girl.

I bake. I run. I pretend I'm in a happy relationship. Then I bake some more.

Just. Like. Clockwork.

Until my new neighbor ruins everything.

My new neighbor who happens to visit my bakery every morning with a cocky smirk and a suggestion that I butter his biscuits.

Oh, and did I mention the worst part?

He works with my boyfriend.

My boyfriend who’s completely oblivious that every time he bails on a date and sends Rhett in his place, I'm pushed closer to the edge of falling for someone who isn't him.

But I'm not a cheater.

And neither is Rhett.

So where does that leave me?

It leaves me screwed.

Well, not literally, but you get my point.

They say the grass isn't always greener on the other side.

But...what if it really is?

Chapter One

Liv

I’m pregnant.

After being married for five years to my high school sweetheart, I should be happy with the news. And I would be. If I wasn’t staring at those two pink lines right before I head to the funeral home to bury the baby’s father.

How did my life get so screwed up? Everything was going great. Perfect, actually. Obviously, we still had our ups and downs. Working minimum wage as a waitress while trying to get my husband, Adam, through college wasn’t easy. But things were finally looking up! 

We were accomplishing all our goals. Adam had recently graduated from college as an engineer and had received the perfect job offer. We were supposed to sign on the dotted line for the perfect little house, in the perfect little neighborhood, next week. 

Everything had been perfect.

Fascinating how perfect can turn into devastating so quickly.

I’m standing in the bathroom of our tiny one-bedroom apartment, trying to finish getting ready so I can get this day over with.

I refuse to look at the lime green toothbrush sitting on the chipped Formica counter next to the sink. I know that if I even glance in its direction, I’ll collapse onto the cool tile beneath me, curl into a ball, and sob for hours. And while breaking down has been a common occurrence for the past few days, it’s unacceptable this morning. I have somewhere I need to be, and I can’t miss it for the world. 

No matter how badly I want to.

As I wash my face with the cool water, I can’t help but wonder, What am I going to do?

I think I’m in denial. That’s the first stage of grief, after all. Don’t worry, I Googled it. Right after I Googled the accuracy of pregnancy tests. Apparently, they’re pretty freaking accurate.

Looking at the clock on my phone, I notice I’m going to be late if I can’t get my head on straight and apply some more waterproof mascara. Waterproof means it shouldn’t run, right?

Maybe it’s the hormones, but I haven’t been able to stop crying since I received the call that my husband was killed by a stupid teen who couldn’t stop texting for the ten minutes it took to drive home. 

Now that I think about it though, a dead spouse seems like a pretty good reason to be losing it, emotionally.

I can’t help but notice the bags under my eyes as I gaze into the bathroom mirror. The lack of sleep, and the constant crying, have definitely taken a toll. Taking a deep breath while counting to ten, I say a silent prayer that I can make it through the funeral without collapsing in front of everyone. 

Flipping the light switch on the wall, I start to leave the bathroom when I notice one of Adam’s socks laying in the middle of the floor, my eyes zeroing in on the worn black material. My balance is shaky and my breathing is shallow as I bend over slowly to pick it up. I hesitate before finally grasping the sock with sweaty palms and placing it in the laundry basket. Somehow, my mind knows that it’s the last mess I’ll ever clean up for him, and it guts me.

Knowing I need to be strong to make it through the day, I force myself to turn off my emotions, flipping a switch from agonizing heartbreak to blissfully numb. I’ll deal with this pain tomorrow. I just need to get through today.

 I lick my chapped lips then release a shaky breath before making my way to my car so I can head to my husband’s funeral.

***

Walking into the funeral home, I can’t help but notice the over-the-top flower decorations, and a cheesy picture of Adam in a gaudy frame on an easel by the closed casket.

I always hated that picture. It was so formal and so not Adam. His usually messy sandy-blonde hair is parted on the side, and his tie looks like it’s choking him. His mother had insisted he have a professional picture taken for his résumé.

I avoid eye contact with my mother-in-law, Susan, who is standing next to the casket greeting friends and family of her deceased son. She’s dressed in an elegant floor-length black gown and looks perfectly polished, even though I know she’s heartbroken over her son’s death. Adam was an only child, and Susan was constantly smothering him with her protectiveness and adoration. In her eyes, Adam could do no wrong…with the exception of marrying me.

To say I’m not one of her favorite people would be the understatement of the century. I was never good enough for her precious only child. 

At least I wasn’t the one who had to play referee between the two of us. I think Adam had it worse. The poor guy would spend every Sunday dinner juggling his disapproving mother and his cheeky wife. Is it my fault I refused to roll over and take her crap lying down?

I doubted I would ever see her again after today. Well, that had been my assumption anyway, until I’d seen those two pink lines this morning. 

Is it wrong not to tell her?

I hadn’t had a lot of say in the funeral planning. Not that I really minded, but Susan made it clear that I would’ve ruined it (her words, not mine). She was always so sure that I destroyed everything I touched. Like it was my fault both my parents had died, then my Grandmother when I was in high school, and now Adam. Now that I think about it, she might have a point.

It was a lovely service, if not a little cold. But what more could I expect from Mommy Dearest? The sweet stench of flowers and cleaning chemicals makes me gag.  They weren’t kidding when they mentioned super-human smelling powers when pregnant. 

I need some fresh air. Now.

As I open the large oak doors of the funeral home and walk down the steps to help calm my rolling stomach, a familiar hand touches my shoulder gently. I quickly turn around and see Luke Jensen, Adam’s best friend. My best friend, too, once upon a time.

He looks good. Really good. At just over six-feet tall with a muscular build, semi-short brown hair, and the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen, he’s always been a favorite among the female population, and I can’t blame them. 

While I haven’t seen him since our graduation five years ago, I can’t help but feel the pull of our friendship like it was yesterday. Even if I am a little hesitant to rekindle it after his disappearing act all those years ago.

“Liv,” he says, in his deep, familiar voice.

“Luke,” I reply with a small smile.

“How are things?”

I look at him like he must be crazy. 

“Really?” I reply, feeling the urge to cry and laugh simultaneously at his ludicrous question.

He runs his fingers through his dark hair and sighs.

“I guess that’s not the smartest question, is it?” His lips tilt upwards on one side. “I’m really sorry about Adam, Liv,” he says, sobering.

“I know.” My eyes feel glassy. “It doesn’t feel real.”

I’m drained, both emotionally and physically. I walk over to a nearby wooden bench along the front walkway a short distance away from the funeral home. I motion for Luke to follow me, hoping to give us a little more privacy.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

I assume he’s talking about the house signing next week, and I let out an exasperated sigh, swallowing the lump in my throat. 

I wish the new house was the only thing I had to worry about.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out with my eyes open wide. I was never very good at keeping secrets from him.

Luke’s eyes shoot to mine, but I can’t hold his stare for long. Instead, I look to the cobblestone beneath my heels and pick at some non-existent lint on my conservative black knee-length dress.

Luke curses under his breath before asking hesitantly, “Did he know?”

I bite my lip and slowly shake my head, avoiding eye contact.

“Nope. I found out this morning. He’s not even here to crack a joke about how he slipped one past the goalie.” I smirk at Luke as a tear slides down my cheek.

He chuckles before leaning forward and wiping the moisture away.

“Sounds about right.” Giving me a tender smile, and I know he’s remembering his friend. Adam and his inappropriate jokes. I shake my head, fondly. I love that about him.

Loved. He’s not here anymore. I sober immediately.

It’s as if Luke remembers Adam’s gone the same moment I do. His smile slowly disappears, and he asks again, quietly, “What are you going to do?”

Pausing, I try to shake the overwhelming feeling of abandonment gnawing at my stomach.

What am I going to do?

“I don’t know,” I say honestly and shrug one shoulder. “What can I do Luke?  How am I going to raise a baby? There’s no way I’m signing on that house. Our apartment lease is up, and it’s not like I can afford that now, anyway. I’m a widow. A pregnant widow,” I laugh sarcastically, “with no place to live, no family support, no money, and a crappy job that will barely cover my expenses, let alone a freaking baby!” I start to feel light-headed as I voice the fact my entire world is falling apart around me.

Luke pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back as I sob into his chest, pathetically.

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

“What about Adam’s inheritance?” Luke questions.

Pulling away from him slowly, I give him a look that asks if he’s joking.

“You know my beloved mother-in-law pulled that from him as soon as he proposed right? There was no way she was ever letting me touch her husband’s precious money.” I roll my eyes.

Ironically enough, Susan is also a widow, though not until after twenty years of marriage to a man she hated. I’m still not entirely sure she didn’t poison him. Is it possible to die from being miserable? 

Either way, while they weren’t rich by any means, they were definitely comfortable. Unfortunately, Gregory didn’t have a written will, silly, naïve man, so everything went to a woman he hated. 

Susan had set aside money for her pride and joy, but as soon as he started spending time with the neighborhood charity case, aka me, she threatened to pull his inheritance. She kept saying his father wouldn’t approve of the relationship, and therefore, she wouldn’t financially support it.

It never mattered. We didn’t need her money or her blessing. Susan quickly realized that if she wanted to keep her son, she had to be civil toward me. Although, civil might be an optimistic word for the relationship we have.

Had.

Our relationship died when Adam did.

I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling utterly defeated.

“So you really are up shit creek,” Luke says, trying to lighten the situation.

“Yup,” I reply, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Without a paddle.”

 We both sit in silence, attempting to digest the newest development in my life that happens to be growing inside me. After a few minutes, Luke gives me a friendly side hug, squeezing me tightly before we head our separate ways. Because really? What else is there to say?

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