One Big Happy Family
By Susan Mallery
On Sale: October 1, 2024
ISBN: 9781335006301
Canary Street Press
Price: $18.99
Don’t come home for Christmas. . .
Julie Parker’s kids are her greatest gift. Still,
she’s low-key joyful that they want to skip a big Christmas this year. Her son
Nick is romancing his bride Blair with a belated honeymoon, while her daughter
Dana plans to purge every reminder of the guy who dumped her. Again. Julie’s
excited to hole up for the holiday with Heath, the (much) younger man she’s
secretly dating.
Her plans go from cozy to chaotic when her kids
change their minds and plead for Christmas at the family cabin in memory of
their beloved father. Julie can’t refuse, despite being nervous about the
over-the-top traditions her grown children still enjoy—and anxious about how
they’ll feel when they meet Heath and realize she’s been lying to them for
months. She has justified her deception by insisting to herself that they’re
not serious, despite the spark she feels whenever he’s near.
As the guest list grows in surprising ways, from
Blair’s estranged mom to Heath’s beautiful young ex, Julie’s secret is one of
many to be unwrapped. Over this complicated and very funny Christmas, she’ll
discover that more really is merrier, and that a big, happy family can become
bigger and happier, if they all let go of old hurts and open their hearts to
love.
Excerpted from ONE
BIG HAPPY FAMILY by Susan Mallery, Copyright © 2024 by Susan Mallery. Published
by Canary Street Press, an imprint of HarperCollins.
one
—
“But you’re a woman.”
“Does that matter?”
“I don’t know. Do you
know how to tow cars?”
Julie Parker did her
best not to roll her eyes. At her age, it was a much less charming look. But
still.
“Your car is fine,”
she said, trying for patience, but failing to hit the mark and landing on snark
instead. “You ran out of gas on the 405 freeway. If we should be questioning
someone’s ability to exist in the world, we should probably start with you.”
“Hey!” The young
twentysomething finally looked up from her phone and frowned. “You have
attitude.”
“I do, and a busy
schedule. Do you want help or not? It’s twenty bucks for the gas and
seventy-five for the service visit.”
“Ninety-five dollars
for a few gallons of gas? That’s robbery.”
“It’s also the price
you were quoted when you called the company.”
Cars and trucks sped
by on the busy freeway. It was a cold, rainy December afternoon, and Julie had
a date with her very handsome boyfriend in a few hours. The last thing she
wanted to do was waste time arguing with someone younger than either of her adult
children.
The young woman shook
her head. “I’m not paying that.”
“Fine by me.”
Julie started back to
her tow truck, gas can in hand. The woman hurried after her.
“Wait. I’ll do it. So
ninety-five dollars?”
“Yes. Tax is included
in the price.” She fished her credit card reader from her overalls. “You pay, I
pour.”
The woman gave her
the stink eye, then reluctantly pushed a credit card into the machine. Less
than five minutes later Julie had her money and the unhappy motorist had enough
gas to get her on her way.
“Is this your car?”
Julie asked, telling herself to walk away but unable to do so.
“It’s my boyfriend’s.
He said I could drive it.”
Julie pointed to the
instrument panel. “You probably always know how much gas is in your own car.
It’s something we keep track of without thinking. But when you get into someone
else’s car, check the gauge. When the weather’s like this, you can wait a long
time for a tow truck, and the side of the freeway is a dangerous place.”
“Oh.” The other woman
looked at the rushing traffic, then slid into the driver’s seat. “Thanks. I’ll
keep that in mind.”
“Have a nice day,”
Julie called as the twentysomething pulled away, sending gravel up in a spray.
She made her way to
her truck, telling herself she’d gotten her good deed for the day out of the
way early, so that was something. Thirty minutes after that, she pulled into
the tow yard, driving under the big Parker Towing sign her grandfather had
installed nearly fifty years ago. She parked the small tow truck she’d used for
the call, then ran through the pelting rain to the safety of the main office
where Mariah Carey’s version of “Santa Baby” played over the speakers. She hung
the keys on the pegboard in the locking cabinet and put the credit card reader
on the docking station where it would automatically download and tally the
transaction.
Huxley, the office
manager slash driver whisperer slash mother hen, looked at her over his reading
glasses.
“Why do you do that?
Why do you take a call like that? I go to lunch and when I come back, you’ve
taken one of the trucks and gone out to face God knows what in this kind of
weather. I don’t like to worry. When I worry, I get hives, and then I have to
go see the doctor and that costs our insurance company money. Do you want the
premiums to go up? I don’t think so. But you do this. Every six months or so
you think it’s twenty-five years ago and you’re still driving a damned tow
truck. You’re the boss. You’ve been the boss for a long time. It’d be really
nice if you remembered it.”
“I was delivering
gas, not doing a repo. I was fine. Besides, it’s fun to take one of the trucks
out every now and then. I want to keep my hand in. The men need to respect me,
and for that I need to prove my skills.”
“A chicken could drag
gas out to some fool who forgot to fill up his car. What skills are you going
on about?”
She laughed. “I had a
good time. I’m allowed. Leave me alone.”
“I can feel those
hives popping out all over my body,” he said as she started for her office.
“And Axel’s waiting to talk to you. He has today’s list.”
Julie’s good mood
instantly faded. She walked purposefully toward her office, not breaking stride
as she crossed the threshold and headed for her desk. She ignored the tall, fit
man standing by the window, a folder in his hands. As she took her seat, she
allowed her gaze to linger on the baseball bat leaning casually against the
corner.
From the time she was
eight until she was thirteen, her father had insisted on weekly batting
practice at the cages up by the park. After all those sessions, she had a hell
of a swing, and she wasn’t afraid to connect with a ball or anything else that
needed hitting.
Not that she went
around beating people with a baseball bat, but it had been a deterrence on more
than one call and keeping it nearby in certain situations gave her a sense of
security. The world was a better place, at least from her perspective, when she
knew she could handle whatever came at her. She never asked for help—instead
she took care of the problem herself.
She drew in a breath,
then raised her head and looked at the man watching her. “Axel.”
He moved toward her
desk and set down the folder. “I have five for tonight.”
“Five’s a lot.”
She glanced at the
papers. Sure enough, there were five cars the bank wanted back. They were all
high end, late models with appropriately high repo fees.
After taking 25
percent off the top to cover expenses, including the lookout car, the company
and repo guy split the fee fifty-fifty. It was dangerous work for not much
reward and a part of the business she’d never understood. But repo guys lived
on adrenaline, and she supposed someone had to go out and take back that which
had not been paid for.
She closed the folder
and pushed it toward him. “Try not to get shot.”
Axel flashed her a
smile. “Me getting shot would solve a lot of your problems.” “Why would you say
that? You’re my repo guy. I have no interest in finding another one.”
“You’re still mad at
me. Any chance you could see your way past that?”
Mad didn’t come close
to describing what she was feeling, she thought grimly, taking in his handsome
face and dark eyes. He was the kind of man women noticed. A little dangerous, a
little sexy, a lot of trouble.
“How long did you go
out with my daughter?” His smile faded and he took a step back. “About two
years.”
“How many times did
she foolishly let you back in her life so you could break her heart yet again?”
His eyes became
unreadable. “Three.”
“My count is four,
but I’m not sure that matters. I’ll see my way past what you did to her when
I’m good and ready. I’m thinking about thirty years, give or take.”
He hung his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” she snapped.
“Don’t apologize to me. I only hate you by association. And if you really care
about her, then stop screwing with her life. Leave her alone.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
“The heart wants what
the heart wants.”
“I’m pretty sure your
heart isn’t the body part creating all the trouble.”
He looked at her.
“You want me to quit?”
Some days she did,
mostly when she was holding Dana as her daughter cried because Axel had once
again dumped her. Because he’d been right—when it came to him, Dana’s heart did
want what it wanted and, unfortunately, that was him. But on the rest of the days,
she liked having Axel around. He was dependable, he understood the business and
he had a habit of taking new hires under his wing, so to speak, and teaching
them the tricks of the trade.
“You’re good at what
you do,” Julie said reluctantly, staring out the window. “Stay away from her
and we’ll be fine.”
“You’re a good mom.”
Words that should
have pleased her but instead sent a quiver of guilt trickling through her.
While she usually fell firmly in the “good mother” category, lately she’d been
keeping secrets. Well, one secret. One big, tall, boyfriend-size secret.
At some point she was
going to have to come clean about him, just not today, she thought. It was
three weeks until Christmas. Her kids had plans that didn’t include her, Heath—
the boyfriend, though she didn’t say that word aloud—didn’t have his kids for
the holidays, so the two of them were going to hole up at her place and enjoy a
little one-on-one time with nowhere else to be. She honestly couldn’t wait.
She carefully put the
happy image out of her head, then returned her attention to Axel.
“Go get the cars,”
she told him. “The weather’s going to get worse. Remember that and don’t try
any fancy moves. Those big trucks you’re driving belong to me.”
The smile returned.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He took the paperwork
and left. When Julie was sure he was out of earshot, she murmured, “And don’t
get dead.” Because while she was pissed as hell at Axel, she wasn’t heartless.
Besides, except for when he crapped on her daughter, he was a good guy and secretly
she liked him. Well, at least when it came to Parker Towing.
As for Dana and her
devotion to the man, well, her daughter was thirty-one years old. At some point
she was going to have to figure out how to move on. Because that was how life
worked. You tried something and if it didn’t go well, you moved on. Julie’s father
had taught her that, along with how to swing a bat, and she’d learned both
lessons very, very well.
Buy Links:
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Amazon:
https://www.amazon.ca/s?k=9781335006301&tag=hcg-02-20
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship and romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.
Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She's passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the Ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom.
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