Introduction

Here’s the thing: I’m a love psychic. I help people find their soul mate. I’m famous for it.

No, I haven’t looked for my own soul mate yet.

Do I believe in love? Absolutely.
Do I believe in happily ever after? With another person?? Well…

I’ve never believed my Forever included someone else—I have my parents’ wild divorce to thank for that.

Only I get called out on national television for not having a true love, so to stop the danger to my business, I devise a plan: find my soul mate and go on a few dates with no expectations. Because I don’t really believe in Forever, remember? I can say I tried but it didn’t work out. My business is safe—and so is my heart.

Only when I meet him in the charming Gold Rush town where he’s the police chief, it’s totally love at first sight, like it should be with your soul mate.

For him, not so much.
Didn’t see that coming.

And that’s a dilemma, because maybe I DO want him to be my Forever. Except his wall is even taller than mine, and he’s determined to keep me—and love—out of his life.

What if I can’t convince him to give us a chance? It’s more than protecting my business now--my heart is at risk here. Thank goodness the entire town is determined to throw us together. Because failing to win his heart is SO not gonna happen.

Welcome to Rough and Ready, a small town with a notorious past, where the women are still sassy, the men are…well, rough and ready.

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Excerpt

Chapter 1: Juno

“Juno Johnson, you need sex.”

Wincing, I looked around to see if anyone had heard my best friend’s declaration, but it was late afternoon, between lunch and dinner, so there wasn’t anyone at Ernie’s Joint except a couple guys getting orders to go and the man tending the smokers. Ernie was behind the counter like he usually was, but he didn’t give a crap about who we were or our conversation—he only cared that we liked his ribs and didn’t badmouth him on social media. That was why we’d been coming here for so long—here we were incognito, without anyone asking for autographs or trying to take photos.

Well, that and the brisket melted in your mouth.

But the last bite of said brisket turned to glue in my mouth at Caro’s pronouncement, so I picked up my paper cup of champagne, supplied especially by her for my birthday celebration, and took a long sip.

“Juno, you need sex,” Caro repeated. Cleaning her hand with a wipe, the most beautiful woman in the world pushed the empty baskets of barbeque aside and put an envelope on the warped picnic table in between us. “So I’m giving it to you for your birthday.”

“You aren’t my type,” I said, setting my paper cup down before I crushed it in my tense hand. “Your chest isn’t hairy enough. Besides, your husband might object.”

“Notice that I said sex and not love,” she continued, ignoring my attempt at humor. She pushed the envelope closer to me and paused for dramatic effect, her white-tipped French manicure complementing the paper perfectly. Knowing her, she’d done that on purpose—what better way to set the scene? The world’s silver screen darling, drama was Caroline Seaward’s middle name. “If I’d said you needed love, you would have shut down like a clam whose pearl was under attack.”

I tossed the soiled napkins from our dinner in one of the baskets. “My pearl isn’t up for discussion.”

“It should be.” She pinned me with the limpid gaze that slayed in the box office. “If you ask me, you should let someone attack your pearl. How long has it been? A year?”

Two, but who’s counting? I glanced at the envelope. On the outside, it had a smear of barbeque sauce, but it was what was on the inside that worried me. Whatever was inside was going to change my life irrevocably. I was psychic. I knew things like that. The envelope might as well have buzzed like the mothership guiding me home.

I didn’t want change. I am a Taurus to the core, and I love that bull-in-the-china-cabinet way about myself. My life was good—very good. Sure, I hadn’t had sex in two years, but that was my choice.

“I thought we were here to celebrate my birthday, not to go over the state of my pearl.” Although maybe it was better to talk about my pearl. At least it’d distract me from the fact that I turned thirty-five today. If I wanted to be honest, I’d admit that this birthday really bothered me.

Sometimes honesty sucks.

People warned you about turning thirty and forty. It’s a big deal, so you’re prepared for it. I cruised into my thirties with style and grace, finally finding my place after a lifetime of feeling the odd woman out, and I was equally prepared to hit forty with aplomb.

No one told you thirty-five was the boogeyman to watch out for. Thirty-five hit you over the head when you weren’t looking and left you lying on the ground. It whispered diabolical things, like that maybe you weren’t as okay as you thought, and that you really should take a careful look at your life, because if you kept it up, you’d find yourself at fifty-five, alone with nothing but needy clients, business prospectuses, and your extravagant—if really cool—red Lotus sports car.

Caro picked up the last piece of white bread and sopped it into the dregs of the barbeque sauce, like she always did when we came here. “Turning thirty-five is a big deal, Juno. I’ve had to reevaluate a lot since my birthday last year.”

Now she tells me. “Shouldn’t you have given me that warning before this moment?”

“What? You couldn’t read my mind?” She grinned, winking, and pushed the envelope closer toward me. “Happy birthday, babe. This is from Ben and me.”

I picked it up carefully. It was the innocuous kind—a plain white envelope, the kind that people mailed bills in or used to tuck away their receipts until tax time. There was nothing innocuous about what was inside it, though. Even someone who wasn’t psychic would feel the intent radiating off it.

But I was psychic, so I was doubly suspicious. “You took me out for a birthday celebration. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course I did. You’re my best friend.”

Fourteen years we’d been best friends. She was the first person I met when I moved to San Francisco from Ohio. Caroline Seaward is as close to a sister as I’ll have in this life. She may be the world’s biggest movie star and used to acting, but I could always see the truth of her, and right now she was up to something.

Meeting Caro fourteen years ago had changed the course of my life. Now, with whatever was in this envelope, she was about to change it again.

The question: did I want my life to change? My life was perfect, if you didn’t count the no sex part.

“Does Ben know he went in on this gift?” I asked as I turned it back and forth in my hand. Ben was a good guy and an entertainment attorney. He wouldn’t condone his wife doing something crazy, particularly in regard to me. Not only had I led Caro to him, but he saw me as a little sister. I had his eternal gratitude on my side (his words), and he always looked out for me—especially against his wife’s scheming. So if he knew about this, chances were it couldn’t be too bad.

Caro batted her big blue eyes at me. “Ben knows it’s your birthday.”

That was my answer. This was trouble.

I tapped the envelope on the table, trying to dispel the energy around it. It just wafted up in eager waves, ready to get going. “If you were Greek, I’d be running right now.”

“Look”—Caro dropped all pretenses, her chin firm with the determination that had landed her on top in Hollywood and kept her there the past fourteen years—“it was either this or buy you a cat. But given how maidenly you’ve been lately, a cat would be redundant, plus it’d shed all over your lovely clothes, so it was this. Open it.”

When Caro got that look, it was useless to argue with her. Besides, Caro wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Holding my breath, I tore the envelope open.

Inside was a gift certificate. The cardstock was thick and expensive, embossed with romantic script in black and gold, and I knew it immediately since I had designed it myself.

The Gift of Love for You…

JUNO JOHNSON

Redeem for one session to discover your soul mate.

~ From the Love Psychic ~

“Wow.” I set the gift certificate on the counter in front of me, staring at it. It was a VERY expensive gift. How did I know this? Because I am the Love Psychic.

“I know, right?” Caro picked up her champagne, smiling like she was pleased with herself. “It’s inspired.”

“It is, and it’s very thoughtful, but I can’t accept it.” I pushed it back toward her. “It’s too expensive. You could have bought me at least a dozen purebred cats for what this cost.”

“Probably two dozen, and you’re more than worth it.” She put her hand on my arm, her famous eyes bright with emotion. “Besides, I wouldn’t be where I am without you, and I’d do anything to help you feel as happy as I am.”

My own emotion welled up. Really, it was me who wouldn’t be where I was without her. Without Caro, I wouldn’t have become the Love Psychic—that was her idea, and then I’d blown up when she talked about me in a Vanity Fair interview she had and how I’d magically led her to her soul mate. She’d been the one to introduce me to the visionary behind one of the big social media platforms, who’d convinced me to diversify into a dating app. And if Caro hadn’t asked me to paint the silk dress she wore for her first Oscar nomination (that she won), I wouldn’t have expanded my business into romantic hand-painted silk clothing, sold in high-end department stores.

Really, without Caro, I’d probably just be running a cute little craft shop not much different than the one my mom managed back in Ohio.

I took her hand. “You aren’t more grateful than I am for you. My entire life changed for knowing you, and that’s the best gift I could ever receive.”

Caro blinked rapidly, pressing her finger under her eye. “It’s good we came here and that no one ever notices us. Otherwise, someone would take our picture and report that Ben and I must be fighting.”

Chuckling, I wiped my own tears. Then I picked up my champagne. “To us, because we’re awesome.”

“Yes, we are.” Caro downed the rest of the contents in her cup and held it out for a refill. “But don’t think you can distract me. It’s time for you to look to see where your soul mate is.”

I bobbled the wine bottle as I was pouring, splashing a little on the table. “No.”

“Yes,” she replied, her stubborn chin jutting.

I shook my head. There lay a minefield I wasn’t ready to cross.

It wasn’t like I didn’t use my gifts to guide me. Of course I did. When I turned twenty-one, I’d asked, Where do I need to be to take my life to the next level? and I heard I needed to go to San Francisco, to be at the café by the beach at precisely 3:30 p.m. the third day after I arrived. I was there, and so was Caro. The rest is history.

But, no, I hadn’t asked about a man ever. I had my parents’ disaster as a cautionary tale. Besides, I’d been building and expanding my business, and then… Well, then my heart took a little detour and got torn apart in love’s unrelenting paper shredder.

But that was over two years ago, and I had no desire to go through that again. “Why would I disrupt the status quo?” I said blithely. “My life works for me.”

“Your life is busy and successful, but it’s too quiet.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t do anything but work.”

“Says the woman who shoots on location sometimes for months at a time.”

Caro waved her hand. “That’s the nature of the business, and I compensate by taking months off to be with Ben. You only work. Before you used draw flowers to chill, but you only ever do that when you’re working on a new clothing line.”

Occupational hazard. I shrugged. Once I started painting fabric as part of my business, I didn’t find relaxation in it any longer. “I’ve taken up needlepoint.”

“Needlepoint,” Caro repeated flatly, drooping in her seat. “Babe, I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t a Victorian spinster.”

“It’s a great meditation.” It was like painting flowers but with thread and you could take it with you wherever you went. “I forgot how much I liked doing it.”

“At this rate, you’ll never have sex ever again.”

Sex… I took a sip of champagne and tried not to think about the birthday sex I wasn’t going to get. I tried not to think about how much I missed it. I tried not to remember what it was like to have a lover’s hand caress me.

I tried not to remember Michael.

Sensing weakness, Caro leaned in and went for the kill. “When was the last time you had sex? It was Michael, wasn’t it?”

Caro insisted she wasn’t psychic, but sometimes I wondered. I lifted up the champagne bottle. “If we’re having this conversation, we should have brought a second bottle.”

“It’s in the limo.” She looked at me knowingly, folding her arms across her chest. “He called you today, didn’t he?”

“No.” I lifted my chin, but I crumbled under her disbelieving gaze. “He didn’t call. He texted.”

She sighed.

I knew exactly how she felt.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

Pursing my lips, I pondered her question. “Define okay.”

“I thought you told him not to contact you anymore,” she said in a low voice.

“I did,” I said in an equally low voice, “but apparently my birthday trumps that. And before you say it, I’ve moved on. Really.”

“The wound may be healed, but the scar is still there,” she said with the wisdom of the two dozen characters she’d played. “The thing is, the scar isn’t from Michael. Michael was exciting, but he was safe because deep down you knew it wasn’t going to work out. As good as you two were together, you knew he wasn’t your soul mate. Besides, he was always going to leave.”

“I didn’t know that,” I protested. At her raised brow, I added, “Not for certain.”

“Yes, you did,” Caro said. “You told me, several times. He’s a shaman, and his people rely on him. He was always going to choose them. You just hoped he’d make a different decision, the same way you hoped your dad would make a different decision.”

BAM. Her words hit me like a slap.

I set my champagne down so hard it splashed over my fingers. Please tell me she wasn’t going to go there, today of all days.

“It’s your dad you need to get over,” she continued.

My breath caught in my chest, frozen on the spot. God, she was going to talk about my daddy issues. Talking about my dad was the last thing I wanted to do today—or really any day. I wasn’t even sure how Caro made this conclusion, because I hardly ever mentioned him—EVER.

“The thing with your dad is keeping you from living your life to the fullest,” she said with all the wisdom of an actress who’d played a psychiatrist on TV and won Best Actress for it.

“I live life to the fullest.” I hoped she didn’t open my purse and pull out the needlepoint I was working on.

“You live the safe parts of your life to the fullest.” Caro pointed at me. “Business-wise you’re good. Incredible, even. You see opportunities and you take them, like when Todd proposed doing the dating app. Even Ben is impressed by the empire you’ve built, and he’s a jaded attorney. It’s your personal life that’s lacking, and that’s because of your dad.”

I wanted to protest that it wasn’t lacking, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t because I couldn’t get dates—I just didn’t want the guys who asked me out. It was more trouble than it was worth. I wasn’t even going to start on my dad. How Caro decided he was my problem, I have no idea. The only time I’d talked about him or what had happened in any depth was one drunken night two years ago.

The night Michael left me to go back to Wyoming, actually.

My bull kicked in, and, slumping back, I crossed my arms. “My dad has nothing to do with my life.”

“Your dad has been a ghost looming over you for the entire time I’ve known you,” she replied with a dramatic flair of her hand. “It’s time to exorcise him from your life.”

“He exorcised himself from my life twenty-five years ago.” I’d been ten the last time he’d wished me happy birthday, before he decided to leave my mom and me and start his new life.

“That.” She pointed at my face. “That is precisely what I’m talking about. If he were really out of your life, you wouldn’t have that look on your face.”

I glanced at my reflection in the tin siding of Ernie’s Joint, hoping she was wrong, but yeah, I had a look. Maudlin. Orphan-like. Pathetic. I made a face at myself and picked up my paper cup. “I thought I was the psychic here.”

“It doesn’t take a psychic to know that when someone ruthlessly doesn’t discuss a topic it’s an issue, and you can’t tell me it’s not an issue.” She lifted her perfectly arched brow. “I read the article about you in yesterday’s New York Times.”

“That jerk reporter.” Scowling, I sat up. I prided myself on being prepared for anything—being psychic gives you the advantage of seeing what’s coming, if you choose to look. But I’d been cocky and assumed I was ready—right up to the moment he asked me about my own soul mate. I was so taken aback by the blunt directness of the question that I’d fumbled my answer. I looked like an idiot. “He blindsided me.”

“He has a point. A love psychic who doesn’t have a soul mate of her own is a weird thing.”

I stilled, my eyes narrowing.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m on your side,” she said calmly, “which is why I’m telling you that it’s time to look for your soul mate before something happens to tear at your empire. Aren’t you supposed to go on The View next month?”

I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Please don’t remind me.”

“You know that they’re going to ask you about that, right? And they aren’t going to stand for a pat answer. They’re going to want to know why the woman who’s guided over a thousand people to their soul mates over the past fourteen years doesn’t have a soul mate of her own.” Caro lifted my hand away with her sticky fingers and looked me in the eye. “You don’t want everything you’ve built to fall apart only because you were too scared to look for love. And to do that, you need to face whatever it was that happened with your dad.”

I looked away, not wanting Caro to see the hurt I knew flooded my eyes.

Her grip on my hand tightened. “Juno, I’m your best friend, pretty much your sister, and the most you’ve ever said about him was that he and your mom divorced when you were ten. You talk about everything else, but never about him. Except that night you got drunk after Michael left.”

“Tequila is the devil.” Sighing, I covered Caro’s hand with my own. “If I promise to think about this, can we change the subject?”

“Yes,” Caro agreed immediately. “After I say one more thing.”

I groaned.

“You’re young, Juno. Is this really how you want to spend the next sixty years? A pale life in limbo?”

It wasn’t, and she knew it.

“The thing is,” she continued, “you’ve had a taste of love crack with Michael. You can’t go back to the way it was before, and you’ll never be satisfied with less. If you don’t find your ultimate beloved, you’re doomed to a life of needlepoint. Wouldn’t a life of passionate sex with your soul mate be more fun?”

Needlepoint or passionate sex? Tough decision. “Not everyone gets a great love like yours and Ben’s.”

“Yes, they do,” she said with all the conviction of her soul. “If they want it, they get it. That’s what you always say. It’s in your marketing materials.”

I should be shot for saying that. Sometimes it was more complicated than that. “Caro—”

“You’ve never even tried to find your soul mate,” she bulldozed ahead. “What if he’s wonderful? What if life with him is a hundred times better than life now on your own?”

That wasn’t a guarantee, and I had my parents as proof.

Still—a love psychic who didn’t have a soul mate? Caro—and that asshole reporter from the New York Times—were right. Why should anyone trust me?

The thought of losing everything I’d built made me nauseous. I gripped the edge of the table, and a sliver poked into my skin.

“It’s time, Juno.” Caro nodded like she had all the answers to the universe. “Ask where your soul mate is. You know you’ll hear the answer. You always do. Let me give you this birthday gift. I want you to be happy.” She squeezed my arm again, her big blue eyes earnest, filling my vision. “I’d find him for you myself if I could.”

“I’ll think about it.” At her exasperated sigh, I said, “You can’t push someone to find love. They have to decide that they want it. That’s why you met Ben, because you were both receptive to finding each other. It only happens if it’s the right place at the right time.”

“You loved Michael, and it was great while it lasted, and he wasn’t even your soul mate,” she persisted casually. “Just think how great your soul mate will be.”

Talk about selling it.

Fortunately, she dropped the subject. I didn’t think about that possible wonderful life through the end of our lunch and second bottle of champagne, or in the Uber to my Ocean Beach cottage. I didn’t think about it as I got out of my jeans and silk top—one I’d painted myself with purple lilies on white silk—or as I took a bath.

But I thought about it as I lay in bed that night. Alone. Again. With only the sound of my breath for company.

I turned my head and looked at my phone, upside down on my nightstand. I could feel Michael’s text sitting in my messages, as innocuous as Caro’s gift certificate had been.

Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I picked it up and opened my messages.

Michael

Happy birthday, Juno. I love you.

I wish I was there with you.

Liar, my soul whispered.

Tossing the phone aside, I focused on the crystals of the chandelier hanging across my room. It was just a text—a thoughtful text from a friend. It didn’t mean anything.

Except it did. In this one text, I could hear his voice, low and intimate, layered with his feelings for me. I could feel his regret and longing. I could feel his need to connect to me in any way possible, because the one way he really wanted was no longer possible.

His decision, not mine, and one I knew he regretted. Hindsight—what a bitch.

He’d wanted to stay friends. I appreciated that. Michael wasn’t a man who had friends. He commanded respect and instilled fear because he could see inside someone’s soul, but friendship? Not so much. Let’s face it—you can’t really be friends with someone who’s not your equal, and there were few people who were his.

I was.

But it wasn’t working for me. Each time I heard from him was a roller coaster of joy laced with dread—dread that the next time I said goodbye to him it’d be forever.

Like it had been with my dad.

Damn Caro for being right.

I didn’t want that, and I REALLY didn’t want that going forward.

Suddenly it all compounded—turning thirty-five, Michael, the New York Times and that reporter’s callout, the last time I ran into my dad and his new family, Caro’s big eyes as she told me she wanted me to be happy—and I lost it.

That’s the only explanation I have for what happened next. Because I sat up in my bed and did what I had told myself I wouldn’t do—what I’d vowed when I was ten years old that I’d never do. I closed my eyes and said, “Okay, then, tell me where to find my soul mate.”

That question was precisely why I ended up in a sex shop in Rough and Ready, California. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

1. Have you ever had a feeling about someone (good or bad) the first time you met?

2.  Do you believe in soul mates?

3. In the book, Juno has psychic gifts and has a successful career as “The Love Psychic.”  Would you ever visit a psychic?

4. The town of Rough and Ready hosts an annual treasure hunt (The Hiram Burren Treasure Hunt).  Have you ever participated in any town activities?

5. A big theme of My Big Comeback Romance is found family.  Juno is estranged from her biological family and her best friend Caro plays that part in her life.  Have you ever had a friend that felt like family to you?

6.  The book club in Rough and Ready is hosted at Fire in the Hole (the local sex shop).  If you were attending a book club at Fire in the Hole, what dish or snacks would you bring to share? What books would you share?

7.  Were there any moments in My Big Comeback Romance that resonated with your personal life?

8. If you knew where to find your soul mate, would you go to meet him/her?

Weblinks

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