Fresh FIction Box Not To Miss

Spotlight on Kristan Higgins

April 24, 2012



from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Kristan Higgins

Parker Welles is most definitely not looking for love. She’s got her hands full—a young son, a stalled career as a children’s book author, and, most recently, bankruptcy, courtesy of her insider-trading father. She needs to flip the one asset she has left: a tiny house on the northern coast of Maine. The last person she wants to help her is James Cahill, her father’s personal attorney and the son he never had.

James has had it bad for Parker since the day he met her. With his boss in jail, he figures he’ll head to Maine and help her out, whether or not she wants him to. And maybe change her mind about him after all this time.

“Higgins has another winner with this delightful romance.” —Romantic Times

“(Higgins writes) complex characters and great endings…SOMEBODY TO LOVE is my favorite Higgins book so far.”—Fresh Fiction

“Another honest story about family dynamics. Sensitivity, wit and compassion abound in this latest trip to a very small town and its rather eccentric population. —Night Owl Reviews, Top Pick

In honor of the new release, Kristan is giving away a fabulous lobster dinner for two from Catch a Piece of Maine, shipped from the icy waters off the Maine coast right to your house! Click HERE to learn how you could win, and visit Kristan at or

A portion of the proceeds of the first week sales will go to Save the Children, so don’t wait!

Excerpt from SOMEBODY TO LOVE, in which Parker runs into James, aka Thing One, at her cousin’s wedding…

Parker went up the stairs, not spilling a drop of martini because hey! She was a Miss Porter’s grad, thank you very much! Stellar education and social graces. Also, the drink was nearly gone.

She sat down a few steps from the top. From here, she could see not only the foyer, but the guests going in and out of the ballroom. Esme, despite being Bridezilla, was beautiful in her crystal-beaded dress, and certainly, as settings went, it didn’t get better than Rosecliff, if you liked ostentatious excess, which the Welles family certainly did. Everyone was dressed to kill, and laughter and squeals floated up.

Oh, bugger. A dark-haired man had spied her staircase and was heading up. She looked into her purse, planning to avoid conversation.

“Parker. Always lovely to see you.”

She winced and looked up. “Thing One. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“Is my father here?” she asked, hating that he would know and she didn’t.

“I’m afraid he can’t make it.” He handed her an icy glass and sat next to her. “I asked the bartender what you were drinking.”

“And to think I never liked you,” she said with a small smile. He raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, Thing One.”

He had a drink as well, and sat down next to her. Like every man there, he was wearing a tux, which was…good. Not many men looked worse in a tuxedo, and Thing One was no exception. He was quite attractive. Not to her, of course. But he looked…good.

Wicked good.

She took a sip of her drink.

“Having a nice time?” he asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

“Oh, absolutely. You?”

“You bet. So how have you been, Parker?”

She smiled as she sipped the martini. “Do you care, Thing One?”

“Of course. I’m paid to care.” He grinned at her, and Parker had to laugh.

“At least you’re honest. If there is such a thing as an honest lawyer, that is.” He had a nice smile. Hell.

“I get the idea that you’re somehow persona non grata around here,” he said. “Why is that?”

“No clue.”

“Probably because you’re prettier than anyone else.”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Save the ass-kissing for my father, dear boy.”

He shook his head and looked into his drink, the smile playing around his mouth. “Beautiful women. So cruel.”

“Smarmy men. So common.”

“Now you’re just reinforcing my point.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a long, slender box tied with a silky black ribbon. “Happy birthday from your dad.”

Oh, hell. Bugger and damn. She swallowed carefully, not looking at Thing One.

Because yes, it was her birthday. No one had mentioned that. She wasn’t sure that her aunts knew when her birthday was. She wasn’t sure her father knew when her birthday was.

Parker took the package from Thing One’s hand and untied the ribbon.

Inside the box was a fountain pen made of some glossy blue stone. It was heavy and beautiful, and she could use it for book signings. Her signature would look like calligraphy, coming out of the brass nib.

It was perfect. “My father did not pick this out,” she said, not looking at him.

At least he didn’t deny it. She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were brown. She’d never noticed that before. There was a warm, tugging sensation down in Lady Land. Thing One had nice brown eyes. He’d brought her a present and a martini. And had she mentioned the tux?

“What’s your name, Thing One?” It was James. She knew that. She just didn’t want him to know she knew it.


“James what?”

“James Francis Xavier Cahill.” He smiled as he spoke, and she felt the tug harder this time, her stomach tightening, knees tingling.

“Thank you for the beautiful pen, James Francis Xavier Cahill.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

That was a good smile, vodka goggles or not. A great smile. That was a smile involving his whole face. Yep. With vodka goggles—quite possibly without, she’d never really let herself dwell—Thing One was smokin’ hot. Really thick, dark brown hair. It would be hard to check for deer ticks in hair like that. Okay, that was the mother part of her speaking…also maybe the vodka part. Let’s shift gears, shall we? Parker asked herself. No need to waste a perfectly satisfactory ogle thinking about ticks. Hair that would look excellent if it were all tousled and rumpled. There. Much better. His eyes were, shoot, she couldn’t think of the word for them, but they were smiley. Smiley eyes with very nice crinkles around them.

“How old are you, James Francis Xavier Cahill?”


Five years younger than she was. She could’ve babysat for him. She wouldn’t have minded babysitting him, now that she thought about it…when he was around eighteen, let’s say, and she was twenty-three. Weren’t there porno movies about that kind of thing?

He seemed to read her dirty mind, because he smiled again, just a little. Then his eyes dropped to her mouth. Heck yeah! So he was having kissing thoughts, too. And from the looks of it, his mouth would be excellent for kissing, full and generous.

Kind. That was the word she was looking for. He had kind eyes.

He reached out, slowly, and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, and without further thought, Parker leaned in and kissed him.

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