Beautiful Accidents

  Stevie Adams doesn’t believe in fate, not after losing her parents in a car crash. Now twenty-eight and a star in the Chicago improv scene, Stevie puts career first. No one’s going to get in the way of her New York City dreams. When her friends beg her to tag along to go see Constance Russo, a deaf psychic, Stevie begrudgingly agrees, as long as no one makes her get a reading.

  American Sign Language interpreter Bernadette Thompson has two priorities: caring for her mother and working with her best friend, Constance Russo. But when the headstrong Stevie Adams accidentally stumbles into her life, Bernadette feels an instant connection that’s so intense it frightens her. They can’t seem to stop bumping into each other, or deny their attraction.

  When Stevie’s goal of starring in New York becomes more than a pipe dream, will competing desires prove their love to be everlasting or a fleeting act?

  What Reviewers Say About Erin Zak’s Work

  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

  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

  Beautiful Accidents

  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.

  Beautiful Accidents

  © 2019 By Erin Zak. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-555-4

  This Electronic Original Is Published By

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: September 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

  Editors: Barbara Ann Wright and Ruth Sternglantz

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Jeanine Henning

  By the Author

  Falling into Her

  Breaking Down Her Walls

  Create a Life to Love

  Beautiful Accidents

  Acknowledgments

  As always, I wouldn’t be where I am without the BSB team. Rad and Sandy, thank you for continuing to take chances on me and my words. It means the world to me. And Barbara, my amazing editor—you keep me laughing, even when I want to cry.

  My writer friends! Oh my goodness. Where would I be without you all? Jackie and Jean, I am so very grateful for you both, (as well as the podcasting Stacy(ey)s). You ladies came along at a time when I needed laughter and happiness. Your humor and wit, your telepathic ways—thank you for it all, seriously. Dena, my bestie, I can’t imagine my life without your level head and ability to pull me from the ledge. Megan and Maggie—you two. Sigh. Yeah, you’re my people and I love you both. Nell! Thank you for always helping pull me from the writing doldrums. And last, but certainly not least, Aurora. I am so very happy that this crazy writing life we lead has put you in my life. You are amazing, and I thank the higher powers for you daily.

  I want to also thank my family, both immediate and extended. Gail, you know everything I want to say. You’re absolutely my beautiful accident. And, Cadie, thank you for reading my books, even though you hate reading. Mel… My Jerry! After everything, thank you for always helping get my brain back on track. Anxiety isn’t easy, but with you by my side it’s at least manageable.

  And finally, thank you to my readers. I get so emotional thinking about how you all pick up my book, open it, and are excited for what the pages hold. I am so thrilled! I hope I can continue to create wonderful characters that resonate with each and every one of you.

  Chapter One

  “We were amazing out there!” Stevie Adams shouted as she rushed off the stage at Improv Chicago followed by the rest of her troupe, Dinosaur Triplets. It was the end of the first month for the brand-new mainstage show, Hell in a Bike Basket, and all the good reviews had made it the hottest ticket in town. Their sketches were working like a charm, and the audience participation was on point. From the moment the troupe stepped onstage together, the electricity in the room was palpable. It was out of this world, and they were all thrilled. Especially Stevie, whose only dream after ten years of immersing herself in the Chicago improv scene was to make it big one day, and she was finally on her way. Her third starring role in a mainstage production was getting her the right amount of attention so she could hopefully make it to the next level. Of course, if you asked any improv actor, the first thing they’d say was that it’d be impossible to shine without the rest of the troupe. Stevie knew that was the case with her, but it was still a thrill to be one of the shining stars.

  “I cannot believe how on we were tonight,” Laurie said as she plopped down next to Stevie at the long countertop where they all congregated before and after performances. The Formica top was littered with all types of makeup—lipsticks, blushes, mascaras, eye shadows—as well as breath mints and empty gum wrappers. Laurie leaned forward, pushed her strawberry blond hair away from her face, and peered at her reflection in the well-illuminated mirror. “I’m on cloud nine. The rest of the night is going to be so much fun now.” She was one of Stevie’s best friends and confidants and the closest thing she had to a sibling. She was also the cast mate who always planned the after party on Friday nights. Laurie would often remind them that improv actors who hung out together survived the stage together. And apparently, for the few of the troupe who took those words of wisdom seriously, this night was going to be no different. “I was worried this outing I planned would suck if we’d all bombed tonight.” Laurie sighed. “Please, tell me you’re going with us.”

  Stevie
smiled at her reflection and then made eye contact. “You know I typically would, but I have no desire to waste my time going to a palm reader.”

  “She is a psychic. She does more than read palms.” Laurie sighed. “And that’s bullshit. The first rule of improv is to say Yes, and… And here you are, breaking the rule as if it doesn’t exist. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

  Stevie shook her head. “No, not in the slightest. I’m not going to waste my hard-earned money on something I don’t even believe in. No one can predict the future or talk to the dead. And even if they could, there would be no way to avoid what’s planned for us, including accidents. They happen all the fucking time, and they throw people off their game. If I can stay on the course I’ve plotted for myself, I’ll be fine. I don’t need anyone to tell me what could possibly happen based on some stupid spiritual mumbo-jumbo.”

  “You’re so pathetic,” Laurie huffed. “You know we have more fun when you’re with us.” The cast members who remained after the show turned their heads and stared at her. Stevie chuckled at them. “What? You all know it’s true! Deondre, back me up, please?”

  “Hell, no.” Deondre spritzed himself with cologne, then pulled his long black dreads into a ponytail at the base of his skull. He was gorgeous, with the darkest and most flawless skin Stevie had ever seen. And his lips. Goddamn, his lips. If there was ever a man who Stevie would have slept with, it’d be Deondre. Aside from being the best looking, he was also the most outgoing of the entire group. And the nicest. Stevie’s friendship with Deondre spanned many years, starting at the Second City training center. So she knew Deondre would have her back even before he spoke. “If Stevie doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go. I don’t blame her. I’m sort of freaked out by the whole thing myself. Like I’m messing with the spirits or something.”

  Noah cleared his throat. “Yeah, guys, if Stevie is too fucking chicken to go, don’t make her.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Chicken? Are you kidding me?” Stevie’s mouth hung open as she stared at Noah. Out of everyone, he was her least favorite. He had an ego the size of the John Hancock Center, and although talented, there were a lot of other performers who could outshine him if needed. He’d been doing improv since God was a boy and had a very large following. No one understood why, except maybe it was because he was devilishly handsome in a rugged, Indiana Jones way. But his ego! God. She stood and turned to check her backside in the mirror. “I am not chicken. I just don’t want to go.”

  “Right on,” Ashley, the director and last to speak up, said while holding her fist in the air. It was impossible not to admire her. She was in her late forties, had a family, and didn’t put up with any crap. Ever. She was no-nonsense and fucking hysterical. And she was super easy on the eyes. Tall, slender, with beautiful deep brown hair and a complexion that made her look not a day over thirty-five. “I’m not. It’s not worth it.”

  “I cannot fucking believe neither of you assholes is going.” Laurie was whining, and it was not attractive at all. “You know we should go and see what all the fuss is about. We might be able to work it into our show if it’s a bust.” Laurie folded her arms across her chest. “I’m going to pout until Stevie at least says okay. I know Ashley won’t relent, but that’s because she’s being stubborn.”

  “No, it’s because I hate you guys.” Ashley smiled. She was lying. Wasn’t she?

  Stevie leaned against the countertop and sighed. She knew she couldn’t hold out forever. She’d have to eventually bite the bullet and agree to go, but for now? She was going to stand her ground. At least until she couldn’t stand the badgering any longer. “Why do you want me to go so bad?”

  “You want me to be honest with you?” Laurie stood and took two steps to stand in front of Stevie.

  “I mean, I’d rather you not lie, but I guess it wouldn’t be the first time.” Stevie gasped when Laurie smacked her on the arm.

  Laurie glanced back at Deondre, Ashley, and Noah. They seemed to understand that she was going to say something too deep and emotional for them to hear. Like a pack of animals, they all mumbled and groaned, then exited the backstage area single file. Laurie looked back at Stevie. “I went six months ago.”

  “You did?” The confession kind of shocked Stevie. She’d had no idea, and they were the kind of best friends who told each other everything. Why wouldn’t Laurie tell her? “And?”

  “Every single thing happened. In almost the exact way described.”

  Stevie tilted her head, and her shoulders fell. “For real?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me you went? I feel like you’re holding out on me.”

  “Because I had this feeling you’d be all weirded out about it, which you are. So I went. Solo. And loved it.”

  Stevie looked down at the floor. “I feel like it’s cheating.”

  “Oh my God. What do you mean? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Says the girl who didn’t lose her parents in a car accident.”

  “Stevie—”

  “Tempting fate sounds like a horrible idea, if you ask me.”

  “Jesus. The fucking drama.” Laurie leaned back dramatically, her hand across her forehead. Stevie tried to fight her laughter, but Laurie did have a very, very, very small, maybe even minuscule, point. “Come on, Stevie, imagine how different your life would be had your accident never happened. If you would have known about it…” Laurie’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not saying it’d be awful to still have parents.” They both chuckled. “I’m saying…things would be so different if that accident didn’t happen. If you knew it was going to happen. So you’re right. Your parents would still be here. But everything else might be different. Have you considered the alternative?”

  Stevie shrugged.

  “You might not be here. You might not be on the verge of stardom. You might not be one of the coolest and most amazing people I’ve ever met.” Laurie smiled and shrugged. “And for someone who tries to avoid accidents, you should be eager to predict them. Y’know what I mean?”

  “I know. I know it sounds stupid, but I worry something else horrible might happen if I try to cheat and see the future.”

  “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.” Laurie laid her hand on Stevie’s bicep and squeezed gently. “I want you to come with. Once you get there, if you feel uncomfortable, don’t do it. As long as you try, I will drop it if you decide to not do it.” Laurie held out her hand. “Deal?”

  Stevie glanced up at Laurie. “Promise?”

  “I promise on my dog’s life.”

  “Marco’s life! That’s a little much, Laurie.” Stevie’s words were surrounded by laughter. “Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

  Laurie’s face lit up. “You will?”

  “Yes. I’ll go. But do not push me into doing it if I don’t want to.”

  “I swear I won’t. Marco’s life, remember?”

  Stevie followed a very excited Laurie out the side exit door and into the cool October air. Fall was finally hitting Chicago. September might as well have been another summer month, so the crisp coolness was welcomed with open arms, sweaters, skinny jeans, and boots.

  “You got her to come with?” Noah huffed.

  “Yes, she got me to come with, Noah.” Stevie rolled her eyes as they all huddled around, waiting for their Lyft. “I’ve told you all before. Psychics are not my jam. I’m going, though. To witness it. And to be able to tell you guys what assholes you are at the end.”

  Deondre draped his arm over Stevie’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Drink this,” he said softly as he passed her a flask. “It’ll calm you down.”

  Stevie did as she was told. The liquor burned her mouth and scorched her throat, but she took another drink before she passed it back. “Fireball?” He nodded, and she slid her arm around his back. “Why are you doing this if it freaks you out?”

  “Because, baby girl, there are two things I know for certain in this life.” He took a deep breath and blew out, th
e air filled with condensation and cinnamon. “Number one and most important is I was born to perform.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.”

  “And number two?” He squeezed her a little tighter. “I’ve always wanted to know if I’m ever going to be truly happy.”

  “Deondre, honey, you aren’t happy?” Laurie asked and nudged them both with her shoulder.

  His left eyebrow arched, and he tilted his head. “Come on, girl,” he said playfully. “You know me. I’m happy, but am I truly happy?”

  Laurie shrugged, and Stevie glanced up at him from under his arm. “Well, maybe this woman can help you.”

  “Constance Russo, people. Say it with me, Constance Russo.” Noah glared at them. “Get it right. Psychic of love for the rich and famous.” He let out a laugh that was coated with cynicism. “The millennial Miss Cleo!”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Laurie said. “He knows she’s going to read his tarot cards and tell him he’s a giant asshole. News flash, everyone already fucking knows that.”

  After they all got situated in the Lyft driver’s minivan, Stevie started to sweat. She hated being so nervous about doing this. Avoiding situations that would cause an unexpected outcome was something she did to make sure her plans were never derailed. So marching into a psychic’s shop, not hoping for the best, fully expecting the worst, was not exactly how she wanted to spend a Friday night. Sometimes it was easier to give in, though. Let her friends win the argument, if for no other reason than to say, I told you so, later.