Title: A Year of Firsts
Author: Liz Flaherty
Genre: Contemporary Seasoned Romance
Book Blurb:
“I’m Sydney Cavanaugh. Just passing through.”
Widow Syd Cavanaugh is beginning a “year of firsts” with the road trip she’d promised her husband she’d take after his death. An unplanned detour lands her in Fallen Soldier, Pennsylvania, where she meets the interesting and intelligent editor of the local paper.
Television journalist Clay McAlister’s life took an unexpected turn when a heart attack forced him to give up his hectic lifestyle. He’s still learning how to live in a small town when meeting a pretty traveler in the local coffee shop suddenly makes it all much more interesting.
While neither of them is interested in a romantic relationship, their serious case of being “in like” seems to push them that way. However, Clay’s heart condition doesn’t harbinger a very secure future, and Syd’s already lost one man she loved to a devastating illness—she isn’t about to lose another. Where can this relationship possibly go?
Excerpt:
She was beautiful. He gestured at her Ball State University shirt. “Did you go there, or is it from a thrift shop?” Her wardrobe choices entertained him.
“Haley went there. Shiloh went to Purdue.” She pushed open the door. “Come in. I’m washing toddler clothes, size three, that were donated today but smelled musty.”
“So, how was it?”
“Susan’s Closet? It was fun. And busy. When all you’re doing is writing checks or buying things from fundraisers or attending charity functions, you kind of lose track of the needs people have. It was a good reminder.” She gestured toward the table that sat in the curve of the kitchen’s bow window. “They ended up needing someone for the afternoon shift, too, so I stayed. I wouldn’t want to do that every day, but it was good to help.”
She washed her hands at the kitchen sink and made coffee without asking if he wanted any, then set a plate of scones and a pretty glass dish of butter on the table. She laid out placemats and cloth napkins along with two mismatched forks, then sat across from him.
“The table looks like a magazine picture,” he said. “You did it in thirty seconds.”
“Pocket protector,” she reminded him, looking dismayed. “But the scones came from Have A Cup and the rest of it is because I’m having so much fun being in my own house again. Not that it’s really mine, but I’m pretending.” The chagrin left her features as suddenly as it had come, replaced by a smile. “Will you stay and have supper? I’ll let you help fold toddler clothes after I press them.”
“You’re ironing toddler clothes?” One of his sisters was pretty compulsive about things, but even she drew the line at ironing anything she didn’t absolutely have to. The condition of Sid’s shirts indicated her neatness didn’t extend that far, either.
“I am. They may be used, but they will be new to the kids. They should look like it.”
“Good point.”
When the plate was empty, Sid set up an ironing board and an iron in the middle of the kitchen and brought a still-warm basket of primary-colored clothing from the laundry room. She ironed small tops while he folded miniature jeans complete with creases and paired tiny leggings with their coordinates according to Sid’s instructions. It was more fun than he could ever have imagined having with laundry.
And then there was that elephant that kept running around between them. Sid evidently got tired of seeing it. “Did you go to the cardiologist today?”
He nodded. “I’m fine.”
“That’s good to know. Fine as in you don’t have to go back? Fine as in you’ll probably live the rest of the week? Fine as in it’s okay for you to fly? Or is it fine as in your family needs to be called just in case this kind of fine is different? Fine as in—” She stopped, her cheeks pink, and returned her attention to the little polka dotted dress she was ironing. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t answer. He took the stacks of clothing into the living room and added them to the ones already there, then came back to the kitchen. He refilled their cups, complete with additives, and set them on the table, then reached around her to turn off the iron.
She tried to stop him. “I need to—”
“Sit down,” he said. “Or, even if you don’t need to, I need you to.”
He could feel reluctance in every inch of her body as he steered her toward her seat, then took the one across from it. “At the end of the day,” he said, “I’m a journalist. No more and no less. I tell people’s stories so that others can identify with them, empathize with the subjects, and have the facts straight when they relate what I’ve said to their friends. I’m proud of being pretty good at that. But I’m not very good at sharing my own story or judging the impact it might have on someone else. Well, no…not very good doesn’t begin to cover how totally bad I am at it.” He watched as she set her cup down, and reached for her hands. “You had nothing to apologize for.”
And then he told her. About collapsing at work and waking in a Washington hospital. About the zipper on his chest and the scar on his thigh. About the pain and how he’d been too afraid of addiction to take the painkillers he’d been prescribed. About the weeks and weeks it took him to feel like himself again. About the statistics that made a long, full life look less likely than one could hope for.
He saw her flinch and was sorry for it. There she was with a whole boatful of bad memories because of the illness and death of the man she’d loved and Clay was heaping more onto the boat. Not that they loved each other—he wasn’t about to go there—but they both knew there was something between them. Something that harbingered pain down the road.
“I’ve never met anyone I’ve wanted to spend time with the way I do you,” he said. “I feel like I should be wearing my letter jacket when we go out, because it just feels…young. And I gotta admit, I’m really enjoying that. Coronary artery disease kind of takes the young out of you.” He reached, tracing a finger down her soft cheek. “Just as ALS took it from Paul and, ultimately, from you. What I’m saying is like something from a really old rock and roll song. I’ll make you no promises and I’ll tell you no lies, but it’s not anything we can build a relationship on. Even if you were willing to make the trip, I won’t take you down that road again.”
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
Books 2 Read: https://books2read.com/u/b5w1NR
Amazon: https://a.co/d/ifLe7SJ
What makes your featured book a must-read?
An Amazon reviewer said in part that “This is a wonderful story of coming of age a second time, of learning who you are, and who you want to be.” As the writer of Syd and Clay’s story, I love that. I can think of no better reason to read it.
Giveaway –
Enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card:
Open Internationally.
Runs January 6 – January 14, 2025.
Winner will be drawn on January 15, 2025.
Author Biography:
She wanted to shake the dust of central Indiana farm country and move to the city, get rich, wear designer clothes, and write books.
Well, she writes books.
Liz Flaherty lives five miles from where she grew up, only now she relishes the sights and sounds and scents of the fields around her, doesn’t care much about clothes, and thinks being rich would probably have been overrated anyway. She’s spent the past several years enjoying not working a day job, making terrible crafts, and writing stories in which the people aren’t young, brilliant, or even beautiful. She’s decided (and has to re-decide nearly every day) that the definition of success is having a good time. Along with Duane, her husband of lo, these many years, kids, grands, friends, and the occasional cat, she’s doing just that.
Social Media Links: