Too good to be true, p.1
Too Good to be True, page 1
Too Good to be True
Synopsis
When it comes to mistakes, social worker Madison Hewitt doesn’t do anything halfway. Her last relationship managed to break her heart and her professional prospects. Coming home to Providence is her chance to regroup, even if she’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, in life and in love.
Jen Winslow has her hands full raising her son, dealing with her ex-wife, and managing a career that takes more energy than it gives. She’s spent a lifetime being the strong one, and occasionally playing the hero. Case in point? Meeting Madison at a wedding and saving her from a run-in with the woman who ruined her life. But the more time Jen spends with Madison, the more it feels like she’s the one in need of rescuing.
Can the promise of love survive the realities of life, or is it just another example of too good to be true?
What Reviewers Say About Leigh Hayes’s Work
Providence
“[O]ne of the most refreshing and sexiest romance novels I’ve read in a long time. The two leads had sizzling chemistry, the power dynamic between them was exciting and erotic, the romantic storyline was not formulaic in any way.”—Melina Bickard, Librarian, Waterloo Library (UK)
“I’ve never stared at a book cover for so long. And Leigh Hays’s writing is equally a showstopper in her debut lesbian romance Providence.”—Lambda Literary
“Are we sure this is a debut book? It’s Fantastic! I thoroughly enjoyed Providence. It was an edgy storyline with a fresh take on romance. When you start this book, you think it’s going to be a romance; then you realize it’s erotica with some light BDSM and then you’re back to love but not before the author throws in a little drama. I was in a lesfic tailspin by the end…and completely loving it!”—Les Rêveur
“I liked how this was written. The settings were vivid, the chemistry well done, and their emotional journeys were a highlight. …It’s a solid debut book and it left me thinking for days after I finished it. I’d recommend it if you like books with tortured characters and I’ll be looking out for more from Leigh Hays in the future.”—Lesbian Review
Too Good to be True
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Too Good to be True
© 2020 By Leigh Hays. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-716-9
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: November 2020
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Barbara Ann Wright
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design by Tammy Seidick
eBook Design by Toni Whitaker
By the Author
Providence
Too Good to be True
Acknowledgments
This book’s draft was due a few weeks before the COVID-19 crisis hit our area and suddenly I was working and homeschooling from home. An extra thank you for Barbara for giving me a little extra time on the edits.
Sandy, Radclyffe, Ruth, and the small army of people who make the books happen at BSB. I continue to learn and grow with your guidance.
As always, my co-workers who’ve supported me through this process. This year has been a ride.
Aurora Rey who earned her bottle of bourbon through the first rough draft and providing her own unique blend of cheerleader, task master and mentor.
My wife for finding space in our life for me to write and picking up the pieces that I let slide when I’m in the midst of it.
My son. You are so patient and supportive when I’m doing this work.
Dedication
For T. There would be no Jen without you.
Chapter One
A warm breeze blew in off the ocean, and the setting sun bathed the wedding guests in golden hues. It was so perfect and picturesque that it almost overwhelmed Jen Winslow’s natural cynicism. But not quite. It was, after all, the best wedding money could buy.
Jen finished watching her niece dance with her new husband and then headed to the patio bar to order a scotch neat. It was smoky with a subtle finish. Her sister had good taste. She turned and spotted her mother engaged in conversation with several men a few years younger than her. She couldn’t remember which of them was her date. She took another sip, grateful that she was alone for the night.
Then she accidentally made eye contact with her mother.
She looked for a diversion and spotted her old college roommate, Erika, moving toward the patio. She downed her drink and intercepted her. “Erika, so good to see you.”
Erika stopped and stared. A vague smile appeared. “Likewise. How are you?”
Jen knew that expression. She had no idea who she was. “You don’t remember me.”
Erika’s smiled faded. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Jen Winslow. Yale. First semester roommate.”
Erika’s brows knitted together, and then she smiled. “Jen, of course. You look great.”
Jen knew she was faking it. She read people for a living. However, she could sustain small talk for hours, another job skill. “So do you. Where are you working these days?”
“I’m the Jane Barnes Chair of Social Work at Smith.” Seriously, did she need the whole title? Pretentious asshole. She made no move to ask about Jen.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Jen said, “That’s great. I work at Brown.”
Erika’s interest picked up. “Really? Which department?”
“Development.” Jen raised money for the college. Not a skill particularly admired by pure academics, even though they benefited from her work. They tended to think she threw parties and had lunch with rich people. While that was a part of her job, she specialized in principal gifts, the big money donors. Her connections went deeper than that.
And just as quickly, Erika’s interest waned. “Oh.”
Just why was she here anyway? Did her family have some connection with Erika? Annoyed and yet unable to stop herself, Jen persisted. “Last year, I brought in twenty million dollars.” Why was she justifying herself to this woman?
Erika’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s…impressive.” She made a show of glancing at a nonexistent watch. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”
“Oh, of course. It was good to see you.”
“You, too.” Erika called over her shoulder as she walked into the house.
“Prick,” Jen muttered under her breath. Her mother sauntered up to her. It had all been for naught. “Hello, Mother.”
She leaned in and air-kissed Jen’s cheek. “You look lovely. Are those my pearls?”
Jen glanced down at her necklace and black sleeveless sheath dress. She covered the pearls with her hand. “You mean Gran’s? Yes. They are.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “She was supposed to give them to me.”
The Winslow fortune had seen better years. In fact, her mother was the last recipient of a trust fund. There had been no money left by the time their grandmother had passed on, and she had insisted on gifting her jewelry to her two granddaughters. Their mother had never let them forget it.
Her mother switched tactics. “Are you here alone? Where’s Rachel?”
“She’s with Carter this weekend.” She shared her house and custody of her ten-year-old son with her ex-partner. A situation she thought would make their separation easier on Carter but much to her dismay, had become semi-permanent as their separation dragged on with no end in sight.
“Why didn’t you bring them? It doesn’t look good to come alone.”
Jen shrugged. “Probably not. But I don’t care.” The thought of an entire weekend alone had sounded lovely. But now she realized another person would have provided a buffer.
Her mother twisted her lips and opened her mouth again.
Jen held up a hand. “I’m heading to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
It didn’t surprise her that her mother had asked to see her ex-wife first. Rachel had been the perfect answer to her mother’s perpetual disappointment in both her career and her sexual orientation. It was obvious early on that Jen wasn’t going to marry their way of out of “poverty.” But Rachel was an up-and-coming folk singer who performed well both professionally and personally. She satisfied her mother’s needs for status and wealth. Unfortunately for Jen, it was the day-to-day living where Rachel failed to meet expectations.
She stopped thinking about her mother and focused on finding a bathroom in the grand estate her sister had rented for the weekend. Lost in the maze of halls, she started randomly opening doors and found Erika cornering a woman against an antique armoire.
‘Oh, excuse—” Jen paused when something about the way the woman’s hands were positioned alerted Jen to her distress.
She’d dealt with enough academic bullies in her day-to-day work to know how to deal with them. Not one to shy away from
a fight, she walked in and said, “Oh, hey, Erika. I’m glad I found you.”
Erika pulled away, and the other woman inched toward the door. “Now’s not a good time.”
“Oh, am I interrupting?” She moved closer, blocking Erika’s access to the other woman. Jen got a better look at her. Mid-twenties, dark purple hair, a look of relief on her face.
“Yes.”
“No. I was just leaving,” the purple-haired woman said.
“Madison, wait.” Erika went to follow, but Jen stepped between them.
Growing up, Jen had always been on the shorter side, but during her last year of high school, she’d hit a growth spurt and shot up to five-ten. With heels, she stood close to six feet. She had six inches on Erika, and she was using them. “I don’t think she wants to talk with you.”
Erika’s eyes narrowed. “It’s none of your business.”
Jen folded her arms and stared. She let the silence grow.
Erika huffed. “Are you going to keep me in here all night?”
Jen shook her head. “No. Just long enough for her to make a clean getaway.”
Erika growled and pushed past. Jen let her, pleased to have pissed her off.
Half an hour later, Jen’s sister, Elizabeth, found her nursing another scotch and lounging in a leather wingback chair. Elizabeth collapsed in the chair opposite. “Are you hiding from Mom?”
Jen raised her glass. “Guilty as charged.” She took a sip. “Why is she even here?”
There was no love lost between Elizabeth and their mother, either. “Jess wanted to invite her.”
Jen snorted. “As if the bride ever gets to see anyone at their own wedding.”
She waved toward Jen’s glass. Jen passed it over. She took a sip and said, “You can blame Bill and all his family-centric bullshit.” Elizabeth sounded harsher than she probably felt. She loved Jessie’s new husband, but the extended family bit was not their scene.
Jen watched the party through the open doors. Guests mingled on the stone patio next to the bar, but the bulk of the party was happening under a white tent closer to the water. “Speaking of guests, what the fuck is Erika Robson doing here?”
Elizabeth sighed and took another sip. “She’s married to Annelise. One of Bill’s cousins.” Bill’s family was huge, with seven siblings in his father’s generation and six in his own.
Jen snatched her drink back. “Really? How long?”
“Maybe sixteen years.”
Jen took another sip and shook her head. “She’s still the same dick from college. Pretentious and manipulative. She was totally making a pass at someone else when I barged in.”
Elizabeth groaned. “Fabulous. Let me guess. Mid-twenties?”
Jen nodded, the purple hair hard to forget. “Yes, she was. I gather it’s not her first time?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Nope. She collects a student once every few years.”
That explained the scene she walked in on. Whatever Erika’s previous relationship with the woman had been, she was pretty certain it was over now. She knew a thing or two about women who couldn’t let go. Jen frowned and finished her drink. “What an ass.” She stood and held out her hand. “I need another drink.”
They split up at the bar, wedding duties calling Elizabeth away. Tiny white lights and paper lanterns lit the way to the tent and encompassed it on all sides, emitting enough light to drink and dance by. Jen scanned the tent, looking for someone to pass the time with until the event ran its course. Across the room, she spotted Madison sitting in a group of other twentysomethings, laughing. Her table boasted two other colors of the rainbow. Her purple hair complemented another man with dark green hair and another person with bright orange. But the dark purple stood out as an elegant spark of individuality. The contrast intrigued Jen. A flicker of not quite desire but definitely not platonic feelings stirred inside her.
Madison glanced over and caught Jen staring.
Taking a bigger sip than she had intended, she choked as it burned its way down. When she looked up from her coughing fit, Madison was gone.
“Shit,” Jen mumbled, wiping down her chest with the cocktail napkin. Slightly embarrassed, she grabbed her drink and found a set of chairs facing the ocean. Looking out at the water, the onshore lights cast the sea in shadow, and she silently laughed at herself for getting flustered by a woman’s gaze across the room. But even as she did that, she felt disappointment at a missed opportunity.
“There you are.”
Jen glanced up at a shadowy figure backlit by the reception’s lights. The voice sounded familiar, but she’d only heard it once. A shiver went through her body that had nothing to do with the temperature, and she tilted her head to get a better look.
Madison smiled down at her.
Still a little off-balance from her coughing fit, her comeback lacked her usual finesse. “Here I am.”
Madison took the chair opposite. The light outlined her face. “I wanted to thank you for rescuing me.”
Rescuing. Like some knight in shining armor. Jen preened a little, and then, before her mind caught up with her, she said, “Does that make you a damsel in distress?” Ah, fuck, was she flirting?
Madison smiled, and a hint of playfulness emerged in her tone and posture. “For the right person.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Okay, what the fuck was she doing? It wasn’t the scotch. She hadn’t consumed any more than she would at a work function. No, it was a mix of pride and the flattery coming from an attractive woman. Because Madison was attractive. More than a decade younger but still attractive. Go with it. She held out her hand and said, “I’m Jen.”
Madison reached out and said, “Madison.”
Her hand was rougher than Jen was expecting but warm, and she looked right at her as they held hands. Jen smiled and opened her mouth, but whatever flirty comment was about to come out died on her lips when she heard her mother’s voice. She groaned.
Madison looked confused and pulled her hand back. “What?”
Jen’s shoulders slumped. “It’s my mother.”
“Jennifer, what are you doing lurking in the shadows?” She looked at Madison and then back at Jen. Jen saw the exact moment the purple hair registered by the slight curl of disapproval on her lips. “Isn’t she a little young for you? I mean really, how old are you?”
Madison answered without missing a beat. “Old enough to know what I want.”
Jen choked on a laugh. She liked this woman. She set her drink on the lawn and held out her hand. “You’re right. I am lurking. Come on, darling, let’s dance.”
* * *
Madison let Jen lead her to the dance floor. Her hand was warm, her grip solid, confident, as if she didn’t care who saw her. Not like Erika, whose every touch was furtive and hidden. Seeing her had brought up old feelings of doubt. Even now, she expected Jen to let go once they were safely out of her mother’s range, but she didn’t. Instead, she slipped an arm around Madison’s waist, picked up her other hand, and led her into a dance.
Madison’s surprise must have registered on her face because Jen paused and loosened her grip. “Is this okay?”
Her poise and confidence both alarmed and attracted her. Jen was totally her type—older and self-assured—and that alone would lead to trouble. Erika had been her type, too, and that relationship had ended in heartbreak for her. All the apprehension from seeing Erika flared up before she pushed it back down. An interesting woman wanted to dance with her, and she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity. Fuck Erika.
She nodded and squeezed Jen’s hand. “Yes.” The song was soft and slightly up-tempo. Madison recognized it as “Dream a Little Dream of Me.”
Jen turned out to be a good dancer, and Madison said so. Jen twirled her and pulled her back in. “Years of etiquette lessons in my youth. It always felt awkward until I realized I was trying to lead.”
Madison laughed, and the music shifted to another old standard with the same tempo. Jen showed no signs of letting go, so Madison kept dancing. It felt strange to follow. She was usually the taller woman and often the one who led, but Jen had a few inches on her even without the heels.
