The Stepsisters
Susan Mallery
On Sale Date: May 25, 2021
978-0778331803, 0778331806
Trade
Paperback
$16.99 USD, $21.99 CAD
Fiction
/ Family Life / Siblings
416
pages
About the Book:
#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery pens a love story of a different sort…a heartfelt tale of friendship between two women who used to be sisters.
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Sneak Peek Excerpt:
one
“Mom, I think I’m going to throw
up.”
Daisy
Bosarge felt the fear that was universal in the parenting world when Krissa
uttered those eight little words. Even more concerning was the fact that her
son was already home with stomach flu.
She’d
known better than to let her daughter go to school this morning, she thought
ruefully, but Krissa had begged and Daisy had been late for work and it had
just seemed easier to say yes. A decision that was getting ready to bite her in
the butt as she drove as fast as she could, given the traffic on the road.
“Ten
more minutes,” she said, glancing at her eight-year-old in the back seat. “We’ll
be there in ten minutes.”
“I
don’t feel good.”
“I
know, sweetie. I’m going to get you home.”
At
least cajoling her daughter was better than trying to avoid looking at the
ominous Check Engine light that had popped on right before Daisy had arrived at
the school to pick up her daughter. Yet another problem she didn’t have time to
deal with.
Priorities,
she told herself. Get Krissa home and in bed, look in on Ben, then make an
appointment to take her Mercedes to the dealership. After that, she would—
“Mommy,
I’m going to throw up now!”
Daisy
held in a moan. She carefully checked her mirrors before pulling to the side of
the road.
“Just
a second,” she murmured, knowing at this point there weren’t any words in the
world that would keep the inevitable from happening.
Seconds
later her day took yet another unfair turn as her daughter threw up all over
herself, the back seat and the carpet. The smell and the sound of Krissa
bursting into tears hit her at the same time.
She
put on her flashers and raced around to the passenger side, where she helped
her daughter out onto the sidewalk. Cars drove by so close, Daisy felt the
whoosh of air as they passed. She kept hold of her daughter as she circled to
the trunk, where she kept her emergency tote filled with paper towels, wipes
and a shirt for each of her kids.
She
cleaned off her daughter’s face, then reached for the hem of her T-shirt.
“Let
me get this off you,” she said. “I have a fresh one right here.”
But
Krissa stopped her, tugging the shirt back in place.
“No!”
she shrieked, looking around frantically. “I’m outside. Someone will see.”
Someone
who? Krissa was eight and the car was between them and the traffic, with Daisy
blocking their view.
“Can
you change in the front seat?” she asked, trying to sound reasonable, instead
of close to losing it.
“No.”
Tears spilled down her daughter’s flushed cheeks. “Mommy, no!”
The
headache that had started a little before noon clicked up a level or two, with
a steady pressure building right between her eyes. She ignored the pain and
put her hand on her daughter’s forehead, feeling the heat there. Before she
could figure out what to do, Krissa threw up again, this time down the front of
Daisy’s scrubs and on her shoes.
Krissa’s
tears increased and at that moment, Daisy really wanted to join in. She’d had a
bad day at work, both her kids were sick, she was never getting the vomit smell
out of her car and just because there wasn’t already enough crap in her life,
her husband had moved out two days ago. To “give them both space to think,” as
he’d phrased it.
In
a text.
Jerk,
she thought, feeling the familiar fury tinged with a hint of panic. Although
the real word was closer to asshole than jerk. How could he have
done that to—
One
step at a time, she told herself. First, she had to get Krissa home, then the
car, then—
Out
of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark blue BMW slow as it drove past. She
wanted to yell out something vulgar to the voyeur, but knew that would set a
bad example, so she instead forced a smile.
“Sweetie,
let me clean the back seat so you can get in. You can change your shirt in
there, and no one will see. All right?”
Krissa
nodded reluctantly.
Daisy
planted her where she could see her, then cleaned up the mess as best she
could. In the eighty-plus-degree weather that was spring in Los Angeles, the
interior of the car was already heating up. The smell nearly made her gag.
Blood she could handle just fine. Open up a body and she was okay with that,
but this? A nightmare.
She
finished her work and coaxed Krissa closer to the car only to notice the BMW
driving by again, but with the sun hitting the side window, she couldn’t see
who was driving.
Better
to ignore them, she told herself, slipping off her daughter’s school uniform
polo shirt and putting on a T-shirt with Elsa from Frozen on the front.
Sadly she had nothing for herself to change into. She wiped up her pants and
shoes and was about to try to buckle Krissa in when the BMW pulled up to the
curb behind her car.
Daisy
told herself not to panic, even as she wished for lethal training in some kind
of karate. Or a can of pepper spray. Was that legal in Los Angeles? Before she
could decide, the driver’s door opened and a tall, beautiful blonde woman
stepped out.
Daisy
silently ran through all the swear words she knew, created a few unique
combinations, then wanted to know why God currently hated her because there was
no other explanation for Sage Vitale to be walking toward her, looking as
fabulous as only Sage could in skinny jeans and a flowy top that made her
appear sexy and ethereal at the same time. Four-inch-heel boots completed the
look. Daisy, on the other hand, had been up since four, hadn’t showered since
yesterday and hey, the vomit.
Last
she’d heard, Sage was in Italy, married to a count. Because that was Sage’s
life. Race car drivers and counts and being tall and skinny and beautiful.
Daisy was smart and had a sparkling personality. It just wasn’t fair.
Sage
looked from her to her daughter. “Daisy? I thought that was you when I drove
by. Are you okay?”
No.
No, she wasn’t. Any idiot could see that. Her kid was obviously sick, Daisy had
puke on her pants and shoes, so no. Not okay.
“We’re
fine,” Daisy said, trying not to clench her teeth. Her dentist had told her
that if she didn’t learn to relax, she was going to have to wear a mouth guard
at night to stop herself from grinding her teeth. She felt her bedtime routine
already lacked a certain sex appeal and she sure didn’t need a mouth guard
adding to the problem.
“You
don’t seem fine,” Sage said, her nose wrinkling, no doubt from the smell.
“Who
are you?” Krissa asked.
“I’m,
um, I’m…”
“This
is Sage. She’s my stepsister.” Or at least she had been, once.
Krissa
rubbed her suddenly running nose. “So you’re my aunt?”
“No,”
Daisy said firmly. “Please buckle up so we can get home.”
For
once, Krissa didn’t complain or talk back. Instead she buckled her seat belt,
twisting her head to keep looking at Sage. Daisy thought about warning her of
the danger of that. Sage was like the sun and if you stared at her too long,
there was permanent damage.
Later
she would think about what quirk of fate had her former stepsister driving by
at the exact moment she was at her lowest. LA had a population of what, eight
million people? What were the odds? Although she supposed they did live close.
Sort of. But still!
She
forced a tight smile. “Thank you for stopping. It was very kind.”
“I
couldn’t believe it was you, standing there on the side of the road,” Sage
admitted. “I knew you had kids, but seeing you with your daughter… It’s just
strange.”
“We
haven’t really kept in touch,” Daisy said, inching toward her door.
“Right.
We haven’t seen each other since your wedding.”
Daisy
stared at her stepsister. Really? Sage had gone there? “Yes, my wedding twelve
years ago, where you announced to everyone in the room that you were still in
love with the man I was marrying. It was great.”
Sage
flushed. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”
Oh,
yes it was, but Daisy didn’t want to stay and chitchat. “Thanks again.” She
waved and ducked into her car.
“She’s
really pretty,” Krissa said admiringly. “I like what she’s wearing.”
“It’s
jeans and a shirt,” Daisy snapped before she could stop herself. “Sorry. I’m
tired. Let’s get you home.”
In
the rearview mirror she saw Sage get back in her car. Their eyes met briefly in
the mirror, then Daisy focused her attention on starting her car. She pushed
the button to engage the engine…and nothing happened. The dashboard lights came
on, along with the red Check Engine light, but the engine stayed silent.
Daisy
grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and tried not to scream. She didn’t
want to scare her daughter and possibly herself by giving in to the crazy
building up inside of her but why did this have to happen?
Someone
knocked on her window. She rolled it down.
“You
okay?” Sage asked.
“Not
really. My car won’t start.”
“Want
me to take you home?”
Daisy
thought about saying she would call an Uber or Lyft or something, but figured
that fate was messing with her and she might as well simply surrender. The
sooner she got through whatever hell this was, the sooner it would be over.
Later, when the kids were in bed and she had showered, she would review her
life and try to decide where she’d messed up so much that she had to be
punished. But for now, she had a sick kid and someone willing to give her a
ride.
“Thank
you,” she said through clenched teeth, looking into the beautiful green eyes of
the one woman on the planet she hated more than anyone. “That would be great.”
Excerpted
from The Stepsisters @ 2021 by Susan Mallery, Inc., used with permission by MIRA
Books.
About the Author:
#1 NYT bestselling author Susan Mallery writes heartwarming,
humorous novels about the relationships that define our lives―family,
friendship, romance. She's known for putting nuanced characters in emotional
situations that surprise readers to laughter. Beloved by millions, her books
have been translated into 28 languages. Susan lives in Washington with her
husband, two cats, and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur. Visit her at
SusanMallery.com.
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