THE PERFECT RECIPE
FOR LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP
Author: Shirley Jump
Series: O’Bannon
Sisters, #1
On Sale: July 11,
2017
Publisher: Forever
Trade Paperback:
$14.99 USD
eBook: $6.99 USD
The
first book in New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Shirley
Jump's new series featuring the O'Bannon sisters.
Bridget
O'Bannon is ready for a do-over. After years of pretending she had a happy
marriage and denying that she missed the friends and family she'd left behind,
she's headed home to restart her life.
But
working alongside her family every day at their bakery isn't as easy as
whipping up her favorite chocolate peanut butter cake. Her mother won't give
her a moment's peace, and her sister Abby is keeping secrets of her own. And
there doesn't seem to be enough frosting in the world to smooth over the cracks
forming between them.
“There’s enough here that you’d never have to
leave your house to visit the seven wonders of the world.”
Bridget turned. A tall man in a dark suit
stood beside her. He held two different bird feeders and had a book tucked
under one arm. But it was his smile she noticed—nice, warm, friendly.
“How do you know which one to buy?” she
asked.
“I don’t. That’s why I got two.”
Bridget laughed, the sound still feeling
foreign and wrong. She sobered and turned back to the long row of bird feeders.
They all looked like different versions of the exact same thing. Birds of all
shape and feather were pictured on the boxes, but none of them looked like
hummingbirds.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“I
have this hummingbird in my yard, and I wanted to feed him,” Bridget said.
“Hummingbirds
are something I know a little about. Blue jays and wrens, not so much, which is
why I’m hedging my bets with a double purchase.” The man held up the two
different feeders in his hands. “I’m
sorry, I haven’t introduced myself.” He put one of the bird feeders on a nearby
shelf and then extended his right hand. “Garrett Andrews.”
She shook his hand and realized it was the
first time she had touched a man since her husband had died. It was weird, but
nice too. Garrett had a firm, warm handshake, over a second after it began.
“Bridget Masterson…uh, O’Bannon. No, Masterson.”
His grin quirked. “Are you in WitSec or
something?”
“WitSec?”
“Witness protection. Considering you’ve
forgotten your last name.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. I just…well, my
husband just died and well…” She shook her head. Why was she telling a perfect
stranger all of this?
“I’m sorry.” His gaze softened. “My wife died
two years ago. When something like that happens, it’s as if your entire
identity is ripped away. Who are you, when you’re just one of a half?”
“Exactly,” she murmured, and then turned back
to the feeders. “So…hummingbirds?”
He took the change of subject in stride. He
stepped forward and waved a hand across the displays, like one of the models on
The Price Is Right.
“Okay, you have a few options here. This one hangs from a copper swing and has
a weather shield. That’s really just a plastic umbrella. You can put it in a
tree—”
“I don’t have a tree close to the house. Is
there something I can put on the window maybe? He seems to really like my
kitchen window.”
“This one would be great for that.” Garrett
handed her another box. A quartet of happy hummingbirds swarmed the feeder
while a family watched from inside, all wearing delighted smiles. Buy the Window
Wonder Feeder, the box said, and your family will be
entertained for hours! “It’s got a weather guard, a
removable ant moat, and holds eight ounces of nectar.”
She turned the box over. “Nectar?”
“Hummingbirds drink sugar water. You can make
it yourself or”—he gave her a long glance—“if you’re not up to that yet, this
stuff is already mixed.”
She took the red liter bottle from him and
scanned the label. “I just pour this in and that’s it?”
“Well, not exactly. You have to clean the
feeder a couple times a week. Wash it well, so it doesn’t get any mold in it.
Then refill it and check it every day or so to make sure there’s still some
nectar in there.”
She had yet to get her act together enough to
do laundry. The whole thing seemed daunting, overwhelming. “That seems like a
lot to worry about. Maybe I should forget it. Or wait until a better time.” She
reached to place it back on the shelf.
Garrett put a hand on the box, stopping her.
“I know right now that even the simple act of picking out a shirt to wear takes
more mental energy than you think you have.”
Her eyes started to burn. She flicked her
gaze to the tiled floor.
“But this will be good for you.” Garrett
covered her hand with his own. His touch was tender, understanding. Like they
were the only two in the world who knew this foreign language of widowhood. She
didn’t move her hand, not right away. For a second, she let the empathy wash
over her, rush in to fill the gaping holes in her mind.
“I don’t know.” She slid her hand out of his,
pretending she needed to brush a hair off her forehead.
“I do.” He reached in his jacket pocket with
one hand and then slid a business card between her fingers. “There’s my number.
Text me, email me, call me, any time of day, if you want any tips on
hummingbirds or if you just want to talk about how this whole thing sucks.”
“I…I…”
“I’m not trying to hit on you. I’m trying to
help.” He gave her that smile again and nudged the box toward her chest. “Buy
the feeder. Hang it up. Because it’s okay to let a living thing depend on you
again, Bridget.”
When
she's not writing books, New York Times
and USA Today bestselling author
Shirley Jump competes in triathlons, mostly because all that training lets her
justify mid-day naps and a second slice of chocolate cake. She's published more
than 60 books in 24 languages, although she's too geographically challenged to
find any of those countries on a map.
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