📖First Chapter: The Best Life Book Club by Sheila Roberts #firstchapter

Title: The Best Life Book Club

Author: Sheila Roberts

Publisher: MIRA

Publication Date: May 7, 2024

Pages: 368

Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance

Karissa Newcomb is ready for a new start in a new neighborhood, as far away as she can get from Seattle, where her husband cheated on her with the neighbor who was supposed to be her best friend. She and her nine-year-old daughter are moving on to the city of Gig Harbor on the bay in Puget Sound. She even has a new job as an assistant at a small publishing company right in Gig Harbor. Her new boss seems like a bit of a curmudgeon, but a job is a job, she loves to read, and the idea of possibly meeting writers sounds fabulous.

Soon she finds she’s not the only one in need of a refresh. Her new neighbors, Alice and Margot, are dealing with their own crises. Alice is still grieving her late husband and hasn’t been able to get behind the wheel of a car since a close call after his death. Margot is floundering after getting divorced and laid off in quick succession. They could all use a distraction, and a book club seems like just the ticket. Together, the three women, along with Alice’s grumpy older sister, Josie, embark on a literary journey that just might be the kick-start they need to begin building their best lives yet.

Buy Links:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | HarperCollins

 First Chapter:

Landing butt first in mud. How symbolic of Karissa Newcomb’s life. The old life. Not the new one, please, God.

She shouldn’t have crossed that corner of the lawn where the grass was sparse and slick in the pouring Northwest rain. Now here she was, wet and caked in mud. Like the cardboard box she’d dropped. At least the towels were still safely inside it. Something to be thankful for.

“See? There’s always a bright side somewhere,” her mother would say.

What was the bright side to Karissa’s marriage ending? There had to be one. It would be nice if she could find it before she turned thirty-five. It felt like a landmark birthday of sorts, but that was only a few months away though, so she wasn’t holding her breath.

Gig Harbor, Washington, a small maritime city, was a good place to start—close enough to Seattle for the obligatory bi-weekly child hand-off with the ex-husband, but far enough away that she wasn’t constantly having to look at the scene of the crime. Out of sight, out of mind. Someday, hopefully. Meanwhile, she needed to get up and get focused.

Brush the mud off your rear and get it in gear. That should be a bumper sticker.

She picked up her soggy box of towels and followed her brother Ethan and his friend Ike, who were making their way up her driveway, carrying her couch. Her eight-year-old daughter Macy was sitting on it, giggling.

The excitement of the new house had temporarily distracted Macy from the fact that she’d left behind her best friend. Who happened to be the daughter of Karissa’s former best friend. Like Karissa, Macy was going to have to find a new bestie.

Moving in the middle of February, in the middle of the school year, swimming through a deluge of icy rain wasn’t ideal, but that was how events had played out. The house in Seattle on which Karissa had lavished so much care had finally sold and now she had this house—a blue, two-story, Victorian-inspired one with three small bedrooms and a front porch. And a need for paint. The price had been right. Motivated sellers, the real estate agent had said. Karissa knew what that meant. She’d been a motivated seller, herself. Divorce had a way of motivating you. The house didn’t come with a water view like she’d originally dreamed of—water views were far outside her price point—but the neighborhood was pretty, and the street seemed quiet. She could hole up in her almost Victorian home and rebuild her life, the new start people expected you to make after your world collapsed.

“This is adorable,” her mother had gushed when she and Dad had made the trip to check out the house with Karissa and her Realtor.

Her parents were as enamored of Gig Harbor and its waterfront downtown as Karissa was. “I think Gig Harbor will be a perfect place to write the next chapter of your life,” Mom had told her.

“I hope I do a better job of writing this time around,” Karissa had muttered.

“It wasn’t you who messed up,” her dad had growled.

But maybe it was.

She jerked her mind away from that thought. She had a new house and a new job waiting for her. Between that and the spousal and child support her ex was paying she’d be okay financially. Certainly not rich, but okay. And she had free moving help. Look at all the good things she could focus on.

Inside the house, she followed one of the butcher-paper paths she’d made and set the box on the guest bathroom counter. Then she went back for the one with her clothes, brought that into the primary bedroom, which would be hers, and dug out a fresh pair of pants and panties. Think of this as peeling off all the bad parts from your past, she told herself as she ducked into the bathroom and stepped out of her pants.

It was hard peeling off the bad though. It stuck to you like dog poop on a shoe. There was always some little stinky bit that hung on. Like the memory of Mark walking out the door for the last time.

Dog poop, mud. She needed a new image to focus on. Rain. Rain washing away past sadness, bringing a rainbow and a promise of something better. Yes, that was a good image.

Her butt hurt.

Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her jacket pocket. “Hi, Mom,” she said, trying to sound the way a hopeful woman making a new start should sound.

“How’s it going?” Mom wanted to know.

“The guys are moving the furniture in now.”

“What’s the weather like there? It’s partly sunny up here.”

“It’s raining like crazy. I should have rented an ark instead of a moving van. I spent a fortune on plastic covering.”

“At least it’s not snow,” Mom said. “And the rain is what keeps everything so green.”

The Pacific Northwest was famous for its perpetual state of green and Seattle had been dubbed the Emerald City. Like Dorothy, Karissa had loved living in the Emerald City.

Until the witch showed up.

She heard a thump, followed by her brother’s favorite swear word, along with wails from Macy. “Mom, I gotta go. I think something just got dropped. I’ll call you later,” Karissa said and ended the call.

She got as far as the kitchen and saw a tipped love seat and three boxes, including one containing her collection of signed books, lying sideways on the floor. Ike was making a hasty retreat and her brother was hugging Macy and saying, “It’s okay.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Uncle Ethan dropped me,” Macy exclaimed with a sob.

“Sorry, sis. She jumped on the love seat and I lost my grip.”

“At least it wasn’t my dishes,” said Karissa.

“I just wanted another ride,” Macy said in her own defense.

“Yeah, but warning somebody first would be good,” said Ethan. Ethan needed to work out more.

Okay, not really. Unlike Ike, who had arms the size of pipe cleaners, Ethan was buff and tough. He was also the world’s best older brother.

Karissa took her crying daughter’s hand and moved her away from him as he put the box of books on the counter. “Let’s have Uncle Ethan bring in your dresser next and we’ll get your clothes out of the car so you can unpack them. How does that sound?” Karissa suggested. It sounded like something she should have thought to do from the beginning.

Macy sniffed up a sob and nodded, and Karissa helped her out of her rain boots and raincoat.

“Go decide if you want your dresser by the window or on the wall by the door, okay?” said Karissa and Macy bounded off, already recovered from her mishap.

“What the hell?!” Ike exclaimed. 

Karissa turned to see him halfway into the living room with her favorite wingback chair, doing some interesting dance steps with a muddy-pawed dog who kept jumping on him, trying to get ahold of his leg for a doggy close encounter. The dog was some kind of mix, with the fur of a golden retriever paired with a curly tail of who knew what breed. He wore a collar and a leash with no human on the other end.

Unlike her moving crew, he hadn’t bothered with the paper path. Now the cream-colored carpet had been broken in. Ugh.

The way her day was going, Karissa would have liked nothing better than to pull her hair and let out a screech. She settled for muttering a word her mother would have washed her mouth out with soap for saying. It was equally satisfying. Ah, the power of words.

A moment later a woman appeared in the doorway. She looked to be somewhere in her late fifties, short and a little chunky, with a pretty, round face framed by chin-length red hair fading to…carrot? She wore wet tennis shoes and a raincoat over jeans. It was obvious she and the dog had been out walking.

“Lucky! Come here this instant,” the woman said, clapping her hands.

“Get off me,” growled Ike, shaking his leg.

Lucky gave a bark and made another attempt to make contact.

Ethan the dog whisperer intervened, distracting the animal, catching his leash and leading him back to the woman, who got a firm grip on the it and wound it around her hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to Karissa as the dog barked and wagged his tail and strained to reunite with Ike’s leg. “He saw the open door and got all excited.”

“No, he saw Ike and got all excited,” cracked Ethan.

“Funny,” shot back Ike. “Where do you want this, Karissa?”

“In that corner is fine,” she said, pointing. “And can you guys move the couch so it’s facing the fireplace?” While the men worked, she walked to the front door, where the woman stood with Lucky.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay to have your carpet cleaned,” said the woman.

“No worries,” Karissa assured her. “I have something that will work.” Somewhere.

“I’m Alice Strong. I live next door, and this is my granddog. I’m watching him for my son and his wife while they have a weekend getaway.”

Thank heaven Lucky wasn’t a permanent resident. “That’s awfully nice of you,” Karissa said.

“Ah, well. How can you say no when your kids ask? Anyway, no grandchildren yet, so I have to be content with this little guy.”

Little?

“He’s only a puppy. They’ve been taking him to obedience school.”

Where he was probably flunking out.

“Anyway, this is a terrible way to meet a new neighbor.”

“It’s okay, really.” Compared to everything she’d gone through before moving it was nothing. And, she had to admit, the dog was cute. “I’m Karissa Newcomb.” Macy had tired of waiting for furniture to show in her room and resurfaced. “This is my daughter, Macy,” she said as her girl came running over, brown curls bouncing.

“I’m happy to meet you,” said Alice.

Lucky was happy to meet Macy, too, and jumped on her, nearly knocking her down, which made her laugh. Lucky proceeded to give her doggy kisses, which made her laugh even more.

“Lucky, stop. Sit,” Alice commanded, pulling the dog back and pushing on his rump, forcing him to sit. “Be good and we’ll have a dog treat when we get home. We’d better go and let you get settled,” she said to Karissa. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

She left and the men fetched Macy’s dresser while Karissa hurried back to the car to get one of the boxes of her daughter’s clothes. Never mind the buckets of rain dumping on you. They’re washing away the past. She allowed herself to envision a better future in this new house on this quiet street, lined with ornamental cherry trees. When they bloomed it would make a charming scene.

Her old street on Seattle’s Queen Anne Hill had presented an equally charming scene with brick Tudors and small front lawns, a few bicycles lying on those lawns. Picture-perfect. Alas, the sad thing about pictures was that they never showed you what lay beneath the surface.

She couldn’t know what lay beneath the surface here, either, but Alice Strong appeared to be considerate and kindhearted. It was a nice change from what Karissa had left behind. Not that she was going to get involved with her neighbors.

The men brought in the last of the furniture and Karissa sent out for pizza and pulled the pop from one of the boxes of groceries along with napkins and paper plates while they got to work setting up beds. Later that night she and her daughter would be sleeping in a new house.

Someone new would be sleeping in the house she’d shared with Mark while he slept right next door. In Allegra Gray’s bed.

Don’t think about it!

She didn’t, not while they ate pizza, not while the guys got the TV hooked up, not while she helped Macy put her room to rights and finished setting up the bathroom across the hall. But she did think about it later when she was making up her bed.

She called her mom. She could hear the TV playing in the background.

“You guys are busy,” she said. Her mother had a life. Karissa had to stop calling her ten times a day.

“No, not really. Your father’s streaming an action flick and the bodies are piling up. I’m ready for a break.” The TV sounds got softer, indicating that Mom had vacated the room. “There. Now I can hear. How are you doing now?”

“I got Macy’s room organized and mine sort of put together.” Karissa plopped down on her bed. “I’m about to crash. I didn’t sleep very well last night. How did I ever sleep on a hard floor in a sleeping bag when I was a kid?”

“The power of slumber parties, but you girls never did much sleeping at those,” Mom said.

She remembered those times with the two friends she’d finally found in fifth grade, little nerds like her, who also enviously read about the adventures of Nancy Drew and the students at Sweet Valley High. Those girls had been so important to her, and they’d stuck together all the way through high school. They’d both eventually moved away and married and the bond had loosened to occasional posts on Facebook, but they’d been there for each other when they were growing up. Every little girl needed a bestie she could depend on.

And she’d moved Macy away from hers. “I hope Macy’s going to be okay.”

“She will be.”

It was all Karissa could do not to add, And I hope I’ll be okay. Instead, she said, “It feels weird, being here by ourselves.”

“I wish you’d moved in with us,” Mom said.

More than once, Karissa had considered moving in with her parents, tucking herself away and living safely and happily ever after in the Northwest Washington island town of Anacortes. But that had felt too weak, and even though she was, in a sense, running away, she had enough pride not to run home.

“It wouldn’t have been practical with shared custody.”

“Some sharing,” Mom scoffed. “You’re doing most of the work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Karissa said. She didn’t want to share any more than she had to. It would be hard enough parting with her daughter every other weekend. And she didn’t even want to think about Macy being gone over spring break. “I just…wish I wasn’t sleeping in this big bed alone. I know it sounds silly, but—”

“It doesn’t sound silly. It sounds human,” Mom said.

“It’s hard not to keep asking myself how I got here? Why didn’t I see what was happening right under my nose?”

“Because you trusted the people closest to you.”

She had. She’d thought she and Allegra were best friends. They’d done so much together—Costco runs, helping each other with their kids’ birthday parties, watching romcoms at Christmas. She and Mark had gotten Allegra through her own divorce, for crying out loud. Mark had gone over to her house and done everything from cleaning her gutters to fixing a leaky bathroom sink pipe.

Allegra had needed more fixed than leaky pipes, obviously, and he’d been happy to oblige.

“You should have been able to trust them,” Mom added.

Yes, she should have. “And to think I felt so sorry for her,” Karissa said bitterly, and not for the first time. “All that crying at our kitchen table. All that, ‘Can I come over? I hate being alone,’ crap. Well, I don’t like being alone, either.”

Although now that she was alone, she could at least understand how Allegra had felt after her husband moved out. Loneliness and sorrow had a way of filling every corner.

But that didn’t excuse Allegra. Or Mark. “It’s not right, Mom.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I don’t understand. We were happy. How could he have done this to me? How could they?”

How many more times was she going to say that?

“It was selfish on both their parts.”

“I love her,” Mark had said. “She needs me.”

“So do I!” Karissa had cried when he broke the news to her. “Please, Mark. Don’t do this. We have a life together. We have a daughter.”

Their life together hadn’t been enough. It was true what people said, the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence. Shame on Mark for looking over there and wanting it.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Allegra had said when she came to help Mark get his things.

“Maybe I can someday,” Karissa had replied. When Mark is dead and I’m senile and in a nursing home.

“I keep blaming Mark and Allegra,” she confessed, “but what if it’s me? What if I wasn’t enough?” She certainly hadn’t been able to compete with Allegra when it came to looks. She’d always admired her friend’s long, dark hair, the time she put into her appearance, the way she could turn her face into a work of art with makeup. Apparently, Mark had, too.

“You were more than enough,” her mother said sternly. “You still are and you’re going to be fine.”

“Thanks, Mom. I guess I need to keep hearing that. And you’re right, I am going to be fine,” Karissa said.

Had she moved far enough away?

*

Sunday morning Macy woke up with a case of the wistfuls. “I miss Daddy,” she said.

Poor Macy. First, Daddy had been in the same house with them and then he’d moved out. But at least he’d been right next door. Now he was almost fifty miles away. Not close enough for Macy. Not far enough for Karissa.

“I know, sweetie. I miss him, too,” she said.

She did. Not the selfish Mark who had left her. She missed the man she’d once been happy with, the Mark who told her that her glasses were sexy. The Mark who didn’t care that she seemed to be allergic to every brand of mascara ever invented. The Mark who had talked about them taking Macy to Disneyland and promised he’d go on all the rides with her.

Mark was enjoying a different ride now.

But how much would he enjoy that ride once the novelty wore off? Allegra wasn’t perfect. She and her ex had always been fighting about one thing or other. Allegra liked to fight. She had a temper and had used it often enough on her husband.

Karissa hadn’t lost her temper when Mark dropped his emotional bombshell. All she could do was cry. And beg. Maybe she should have thrown a fit, thrown some dishes, maybe that would have been sexy and exciting.

But that wasn’t her. She always tried to be kind. And reasonable. And sweet. Like her mother. Nice girls finished last.

“Eat your cereal,” she said to Macy, “and we’ll get dressed and…” Not go to church. Going in alone to a new church and meeting a crowd of new people? She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t ready to explain why she was a single mom. “Go someplace special,” she finished.

They had church at Dairy Queen.

Macy was perfectly happy to thank God for her strawberry sundae and Karissa was happy that they’d gotten past the Daddy moment. Macy would still be seeing Daddy, every other weekend.

Along with Allegra.

Karissa stabbed her ice cream and pretended it was Allegra’s heart. So much for church at DQ.

Be grateful you’ve found an affordable place to live and that you’ve got some money in the bank and a job, she told herself. It was a job she was excited about starting, working at Heron Publishing.

“It’s a niche market,” the publisher and owner, Shirley Houghton-Smith, had explained during Karissa’s second interview, “but an important one. We publish a small number of nonfiction and fiction books [nf1] featuring all things Northwest written by Northwest writers. We have a great team here.”

Karissa had already met one of the other members of the team, Edward Elliot, editorial director, who’d interviewed her with Shirley on her first interview. He was handsome—tall with dark hair and dark eyes—and a bit aloof, which had been a little intimidating, but she’d made the effort to put herself out there and tell him and Shirley both how eager she was for such a great opportunity, and it had put her in the final running for the position.

She’d been thrilled when she’d gotten it and rather liked the idea that there would be a small crew in the office due to most of their people working remote.

She hoped that maybe, someday as the company grew, she’d be allowed to move up to the position of assistant editor. No one had said that, but a woman could hope.

No matter what, this was going to be a great job. She’d been a Lit major in college and the idea of working at a publishing house, especially a small one, felt like a dream come true. Here she would be involved with something near and dear to her heart. Books. Meeting and greeting didn’t come easily when you were shy, but she’d mostly overcome that as an adult, and surely meeting and greeting authors would be…okay, a little intimidating, but she could do it. Finding this job had been like finding a unicorn, and if her new boss Edward Elliot wasn’t a big smiler, she could live with that. She got it. She’d lost her smile on the way to divorce court.

“You’ll get your smile back,” her mom kept predicting.

Her mom had also predicted it wouldn’t rain on moving day.

“Oh, stop,” Karissa muttered. It hadn’t snowed. Things could always be worse.

On that semi-happy note, she drove to Safeway to pick up a few things. You are on a great path, she told herself.

Once in the store she forgot that she knew the value of a dollar, and forty minutes later she and Macy were leaving with bags filled with everything from cookies to Fritos. Yogurt and frozen berries and apples and lots of good sandwich makings, too, to balance the junk food binging. As for the four magazines she’d bought…someone had to help keep those companies in business.

To listen to her daughter, one would think she was a stingy meanie. “I wanted a candy bar,” Macy whined.

“We got cookies instead and those will last a lot longer,” said Karissa.

“Candy bars last a long time, too.”

Karissa decided it would be best to ignore this argument. She pretended not to see the pouting face staring at her in the rearview mirror.

Somehow, she was so busy trying to ignore the pouting face she also missed the SUV as she was backing up.

They hit with a crunch and a bounce. Oh, great. There went her insurance rates.

“Mommy, we hit somebody,” Macy informed her.

Yes, they had. And as he got out of his car, unfolding himself like the tall, elegant man he was, she realized they hadn’t just hit any somebody. Oh, no. Really?

“Are you okay, honey bunny?” Karissa asked Macy. She studied Macy’s face for any sign of pain or panic.

There was none. “That was fun,” Macy chirped. “Just like bumper cars!”

Only a million times more expensive.

“Stay here. I need to talk to the man in the other car,” Karissa said, and scrambled out to see how much damage she’d done.

Enough to make her stomach give a sick flop.

Edward Elliot, her new boss, was casually dressed in jeans and a sweater.

His car wasn’t so casual, and she could almost hear it saying, “I may not be a Ferrari, but I cost more than you’ll ever be able to afford, and you shouldn’t have hit me.”

No, she shouldn’t have. Her recently-paid-off Toyota Corolla was crunched in back, but that didn’t look as obscene as his dented door. Dents and luxury cars did not go well together.

“Mr. Elliot, I didn’t expect to run into you here,” she said, hurrying up to him. Oh, good Lord in heaven, had she just said that? “I mean, I didn’t expect to see you. Like this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, what a surprise.” A sarcastic comeback coupled with…no smile. Yep, she could tell she’d made an impression on her future employer.

“I’m so sorry. Let me get my insurance information out of my glove compartment. Oh, and my license. And if I can get yours…”

He sighed. Deeply. Nodded.

They exchanged the necessary information. He was all business, and she was all mortification.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “I somehow didn’t see you.” Looming large as life behind my car. There went the eyebrow again.

She wanted to say more, anything. But she decided any more babbling on her part would only make things worse.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said when they’d finished, which was preferable to him saying, “Now that I think of it, you might be happier working somewhere else, and I’d be happier if you did.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

He didn’t echo the sentiment. Instead, he nodded and got back in his car.

She stood beside hers, watching as he slowly moved away down the parking lot. It could have been worse, she told herself. No one was hurt. No one got fired.

Her boss thought she was an airhead.

Well, she’d just have to prove him wrong.

“Can we go home now? Macy asked. “I want a cookie.”

“Yes, we can, and so do I.” In her present frame of mind, she could eat the entire box single-handedly.

About the Author:

USA Today and Publishers Weekly best-selling author Sheila Roberts has written over fifty books under various names, ranging from romance and relationship fiction to self-improvement. Over three million of her novels have been sold and that number continues to climb. Her humor and heart have won her a legion of fans and her novels have been turned into movies for the Lifetime, Hallmark, and Great American Family channels. Sheila is also a popular speaker, and has been featured at women’s retreats, writers’ conferences, and banquets. When she’s not out dancing with her husband or hanging out with friends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends and chocolate.

Author Links  

Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram 

---