Create a Life to Love Read online

  Romance novelist Jackie Mitchell has built a life that works: few responsibilities, friends that know she’s far from outgoing, and sex whenever she needs it. She has her past, but she doesn’t think about it. Ever.

  All that changes when she finds the child she gave up for adoption standing on the doorstep. Now sixteen years old, Beth Weber is resourceful, a blossoming artist, and a spitting image of her birth mom. To say Jackie is stunned is the understatement of the year.

  When Jackie meets Beth’s adoptive mom, Susan, they’re immediately attracted to each other, but there’s no way Jackie is getting involved with a married woman, especially Beth’s mom. But when Susan and Beth need a place to stay and end up back on Jackie’s doorstep, their lives change forever.

  Will these three women who share a past and face an uncertain future be able to forge a life of love together?

  What Reviewers Say About Erin Zak’s Work

  Falling Into Her

  “Falling Into Her by Erin Zak is an age gap, toaster oven romance that I really enjoyed. The romance has a nice burn that’s slow without being too slow. And while I’m glad that lesfic isn’t all coming out stories anymore, I enjoyed this particular one because it shows how it can happen in a person’s 40s.”—The Lesbian Review

  “I loved everything about this book. …I’m always slightly worried when I try a book by someone who a) I’ve never heard of before; b) never published anything before (as far as I know). Especially if the book is in a sub-niche market area. But I’m quite glad I found my way to trying this book and reading it. And enjoying it.”—Lexxi is Reading

  “[A] great debut novel from Erin Zak and looking forward to seeing what’s to come.”—Les Rêveur

  Breaking Down Her Walls

  “If I could describe this book in one word it would be this: annnngggssstt. …If angst is your thing, this a great book for you.”—Colleen Corgel, Librarian, Queens Public Library

  “Breaking Down Her Walls had me completely spun. One minute I’m thinking that it’s such a sweet romance, the next I found it sexy as hell then by the end, I had it as an all-encompassing love story that I just adored.”—Les Rêveur

  “I loved the attraction between the two main characters and the opposites attract part of the story. The setting was amazing. …I look forward to reading more from this author.”—Kat Adams, Bookseller (QBD Books, Australia)

  “This is a charming contemporary romance set on a cattle ranch near the Colorado Mountains. …This is a slow burn romance, but the chemistry is obvious and strong almost from the beginning. Breaking Down her Walls made me feel good…”—Rainbow Reflections

  “If you like contemporary romances, ice queens, ranchers, or age gap pairings, you’ll want to pick up Breaking Down Her Walls.”—The Lesbian Review

  Create a Life to Love

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Create a Life to Love

  © 2019 By Erin Zak. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-426-7

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: June 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Barbara Ann Wright

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Melody Pond

  By the Author

  Falling into Her

  Breaking Down Her Walls

  Create a Life to Love

  Acknowledgments

  I wanted to write a book that told the story of finding love in the most random of places and I really feel like I did that. It’s crazy the things that happen in our lives. One minute we’re floating along just fine, and the next we’re being pulled in another direction entirely. Life’s twists and turns are what keep our individual stories exciting. I’ve learned that lesson over and over again, especially in the past year.

  I want to start off by thanking Rad, Sandy, and the rest of the Bold Strokes team. Without you all I’d still be hoping someone someday would read my work. You are all the very best.

  I’d be completely foolish if I didn’t thank Barbara Ann Wright right now. She takes my words and helps me sound like an actual writer. Thank you so much for that…and for making me laugh. A lot. You are amazing and I’m so happy you’re my editor. And friend.

  My family…where would I be without you, Gail and Cadie? Aside from the obvious answers of “living in a van down by the river,” I’d also be a complete mess. So, thank you for encouraging me and being there for me always. I especially need to thank Gail. You’re my rock. As cliché as that sounds, it’s true.

  My writer friends…I don’t know where to start. I love you all so much. Thank you for the encouragement and the laughs.

  Thank you to my readers, my friends, and my beta readers. You are all worth so much more than you even believe.

  Dedication

  To Gail—Thank you for creating a life to love with me.

  Chapter One

  JACKIE

  “You’re Jackie, right?”

  I looked at the teenage girl standing in the doorway of my St. Petersburg beachside condo. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for a random stranger to find where I lived and want my autograph. It came with the territory of being a rather successful romance author. But it still took me by surprise regardless of the amount of times it has happened. And it happened four times—each time as weird, and slightly scary, as the time before.

  This fan had a different look about her, though. She had sea green eyes and a dimple in her chin that made my stomach bottom out. Not a normal bottoming out feeling like the way I was used to when I saw someone who took me by surprise. It was more as if I had met this person before, but I wasn’t sure where or how or when. She looked frightened and adrift. Soaked to the bone, her light brown hair was hanging around her face, and her mascara was running down her cheeks. There was something eerily familiar about her, though, and it was making me more and more uneasy as the seconds ticked past. All I could do was continue to stare.

  “Jackie Mitchell, right?”

  I didn’t know what propelled me, but I finally nodded.

  “I’m Beth. Well, Elizabeth. Um, Weber. Elizabeth Weber.” She was nervous. Clearly. Her voice was shaking, and she hadn’t stopped fidgeting. What the hell was wrong with her? “But I go by Beth. I’m, well, look, there’s no way, to like, ease into this, so I’m going to come out and say it.” I saw her take a deep breath. “I’m your daughter.”

  My mouth went as dry as the Sahara Desert. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You gave up a baby sixteen years ago, right?”

  I couldn’t respond because all I felt was bile rising in the back of my throat.

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a few pieces of paper folded into a square. She shoved it at me. Her nails were painted green, and they were chipped around the edges, and what the hell was happening? She waved the paper square as I stood there gawking at her unkempt nails. “Here. Take it.”

  I slowly pulled the square of dirty papers from h
er hand, unfolded them, and studied the words. The papers were damp and hard to read, but they were adoption papers with my signature on the adoption agency’s letterhead. After a quick reread, and then another for good measure, I looked up at her, my mouth hanging open.

  “I mean, I’m obviously yours. It’s not really a question because, like, it’s not hard to see that I have your eyes. And well, the papers kinda prove it.” She bounced on the toes of her checkerboard Vans slip-ons. “Um, can I like, come in or something? I’m dripping in your hallway.”

  I was flabbergasted. Completely and utterly, yet I opened the door farther for her to slip past me. She was shorter than me, but everything else aside from her height and her hair color was me. Her complexion was mine, and the dimple on her chin that made my stomach bottom out minutes earlier was mine. Even the way she was standing, the lanky teenager stance, was mine.

  How was any of this possible? It was closed, right? I asked for a closed adoption. This kind of thing only happened in Hallmark movies. And my life was anything but movie-worthy.

  “So, Jackie.” She looked around my apartment, hands shoved into the front pockets of her ripped, wet jeans. Her inquisitive stare was causing my anxiety to skyrocket right off the charts. I was absolutely not okay with surprise visitors, especially if the person claimed to be the kid I gave up years earlier. I was a deeply private person. I worked hard to keep it that way. So, the last ten minutes were making my skin crawl almost right off my body. “Do you have any towels?”

  Like a shot, I sprang into action, more because I couldn’t stand there cursing my existence anymore. I rushed to the linen closet and fumbled through the towels. My hands were shaking; my breathing was becoming erratic. Was I going to have a panic attack? Fuck. I could not lose my shit right now. I tried to focus and pulled deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth. I steadied myself on the doorjamb of the linen closet. Once I felt I could walk without collapsing, I pulled out two large beach towels and another smaller one for her hair. I pushed them at her in the living area. “You can use the guest bathroom.”

  “Thanks.”

  The instant she was tucked safely behind a closed door, I looked around frantically for help. This whole thing was fucked! And quite possibly the worst experience I ever went through. Except, of course, deciding to give up my baby in the first place; which to this day, the thought still made my chest ache. I turned around and looked at my reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall near the living room. The humid Florida air had caused my natural wave to be more apparent in my blond hair, and all I could see was my kid staring back at me.

  “Jackie?”

  Her voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked over at her. “How did you find me?”

  Her face twisted at the question. “I hired a private investigator.”

  I huffed. “You’re not old enough to be able to afford a private investigator.”

  “I stole my mom’s credit card, but shh.” She held a finger to her lips. “She doesn’t know that yet.”

  Certainly sounded like something I would have done back in my heyday. I was an idiot when I was growing up. And I had a wild streak that wasn’t tamable. It seemed my facial features and the wave in my hair weren’t all I passed on to Beth.

  Observing her from my vantage point in the open concept condo made it easy to never lose sight of her. She was studying the pictures on my walls, the books on my shelves, the movies piled next to my television stand. I was under investigation. And the more she perused my belongings, the more uncomfortable I felt. “Look, Beth,” I said, then waited for her to react, but she kept her eyes glued to my bookshelf.

  “So, you’re a writer, right? Like of romance novels?”

  I sighed. “Beth, seriously, I’m kind of not sure what you want from me.”

  “Lesbian romance novels, right?”

  I looked around the room. Was a cameraman going to jump out and yell that I was being punk’d? This was my worst nightmare. Being questioned by the daughter I gave up for adoption was certainly not on my top ten ways to pass the time. Against my better judgement, I finally gave in and answered. “Yeah.”

  “And you’re, like, pretty good?”

  The grammar police officer inside my head was cringing. “One could say that.” I folded my arms across my chest. The microscope she was using on me for her research was making me sweat.

  “How did I happen then? Or when did you figure out that you’re a lesbian or whatever?” She glanced over at me, finally pulling her eyes from my books. “I’m totally okay with it, by the way.”

  Like I even care…

  “Also, Jackie?” Beth turned around, her eyes pleading. “I am probably going to have to stay the night here.”

  I let out a laugh that had no earthly reason being in the conversation. “I’m sorry, but what?”

  “Yeah, I mean, unless you want to drive me back to Savannah. Hitchhiking here is one thing, doing the same thing at night is another entirely.”

  “You hitchhiked here?” Maybe I was kind of impressed. It was a bold move that was for sure.

  “Yeah. I’m sixteen, but I’m not a fan of driving. So, I don’t drive by myself yet. Of course, you probably knew I was sixteen already, didn’t you?”

  She was certainly blunt. Who knew that bluntness and sarcasm could be passed through the womb?

  Beth took her backpack off and set it on the floor next to my couch. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

  “I can drive you home.” She looked hurt by that answer, but I was not about to let her stay in my condo after barely knowing her. I felt horrible admitting that to myself, but until a DNA test, how was I going to be one hundred percent positive?

  “Yeah, like, that could work, I guess.” Beth pushed her damp hair away from her face. I actually had to stifle a gasp. That move was so me that it was impossible to think a DNA test would do anything but prove she really was mine.

  “Let me get some things together, and we’ll go.”

  “You know it’s like a five-hour drive, right?”

  I looked at Beth and shrugged. “It’s better than trying to get you out of my place tomorrow morning.” The twinkle in her eyes made me smile. My comment was supposed to be a jab, but she seemed to agree with me. “I won’t take long.”

  * * *

  After throwing a couple changes of clothes into a duffle bag and grabbing my toothbrush and other toiletries, I went back into the living room. Beth had made herself comfortable on the ottoman in front of the couch, and she had found a photo album.

  “Are any of these your girlfriend?”

  “You ever hear of boundaries?”

  She shrugged but never looked up from the album. “You ever hear of keeping a baby?”

  What the hell?

  Beth finally looked up. “Is that tea too hot for you?”

  She had a lot of nerve. “Look, kid. I do not deserve…I absolutely have no…” I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I wanted to slap her, and I barely knew her. “You have no idea why I did what I did.”

  Her eyes locked on to mine, and I planted my foot. She was going to argue with me. “Y’know, you could, like, tell me why you did it then.”

  I laughed. “You act like I want to talk about this. I don’t. Especially with you.” My tone was not nice. At all. And her face fell, and tears started to well in her eyes. Goddammit.

  “I should be the only person you want to talk about it with.” A single tear ran down her cheek. Son of a bitch, she even cried like me.

  “Beth, look,” I said as I made my way over to the ottoman. I squatted down and looked at her. “I will talk to you about it. But not now. Okay?” I was lying. I hoped to God I never saw her again after I dropped her off in Savannah.

  She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Okay.”

  “Also,” I said and made myself smile, hopefully to lighten the mood. “These are friends. And only friends.”

  “Not even this one?” She held up
the album that was open to a page of my best friend Tabitha.

  I laughed. “God, no. We are definitely only friends.”

  “Too butch for you?”

  “Oh my God.” I stood. “Listen, kid, my love life is off limits. Okay?”

  “Fine.”

  I rolled my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you have, like, a cat or something to take care of?”

  “Why? Because all lesbians have cats?” I walked to the door and looked back at her.

  Beth stood and stared. Was that the hint of a smile I saw tugging at her lips?

  “No, I don’t have any animals. In fact, I don’t like animals. Especially cats.”

  “We have a dog.”

  “Especially dogs.”

  “You just said especially cats.”

  “Especially both.” Beth sighed as we boarded the elevator. I could see her in the mirror-covered walls of the elevator car looking at me. “What?”

  “You don’t like animals at all?”

  I shook my head. “Seriously? That’s what you were thinking?”

  “No,” she said softly. “But what I was thinking is off limits.”

  We made our way out of my apartment building and toward my car. She was dragging her heels, and it was annoying me something fierce. “I don’t drive a Jeep Wrangler, either,” I threw over my shoulder as we got to my car.

  “Shit, this is a nice car. Is this a BMW?”

  “It is.” I opened the trunk and secured my belongings. “Do you want to put your backpack in here or keep it with you?”