Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2) Read online

  Love Lost

  &

  Found

  L.A. Justice

  Other books by L.A. Justice

  Surfside Romances:

  Rewriting Romance

  Coming Soon:

  I Do, I Don’t

  Novels:

  Stalking Melissa

  Saving Dakota

  Finding Sally

  Discovering Deanna

  Self-Help:

  If You Want it, You Can Get It

  Slimming Simplified: A Fresh Approach

  For Kids:

  Tick-Tock Spider Clock & Other Creepy Crawly Stories

  PRAISE FOR BOOKS FROM L.A. JUSTICE

  REWRITING ROMANCE

  A feast of a book, compelling and honest! – Keiser Book Club

  Strap yourself in for a most enjoyable ride. I plowed through it, guessing at every twist and turn. – Betty Reich

  SAVING DAKOTA

  Dakota Smith had everything—until she went missing in Asia. Now her job is staying alive. A most excellent adventure as a woman finds out what’s really important in life. – Seven Bridges Reviews

  FINDING SALLY

  An unhappy homemaker lost in Bangkok whips up a recipe for a happier life. – Marois Media

  DISCOVERING DEANNA

  Follow three women with secrets. This remarkable and profound final novel of the Saving Dakota trilogy stands alone as a realistic and thought-provoking look at the responsibilities of being a mother. It offers genuine insights about the way we all react to situations that are beyond our control. — Baer Reviews

  STALKING MELISSA

  When her dream date becomes her worst nightmare, a woman finds there are no laws to protect her. This white-knuckle page turner is based on true events. – Parisi Posts

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Love Lost & Found © 2019 L.A. Justice

  All rights reserved

  ISBN 9781076118974

  Published in the United States by Black Cat Book Co.

  [email protected]

  Fiction/Romance/Writing

  Trade paperback

  Available at Amazon.com and other retail outlets.

  Cover design: Don Consolver

  Love Lost

  &

  Found

  To Betty Reich, the inspiration for Zelda Kendrick.

  A special thanks to Karen Villanueva.

  If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can transform one million realities. – Maya Angelou

  CHAPTER 1

  IT WAS the holiday season and Alexa Boswell would be alone with her teenage daughter, Hannah. She had no relatives in Florida and no close friends who could invite them over. Her mom, with whom she had a tenuous relationship, lived across the country in Oregon. Hannah had been briefly kidnapped at Thanksgiving by her own father. And although she was home safe and sound after a harrowing few hours, Alexa was still reeling from the aftershock of what her ex-husband had done. And for that reason, allowing Hannah to visit her paternal grandparents up north was out of the question. She had to do something, but what?

  Now, seven days before Santa arrived with his trusty reindeer, Alexa sat in her blue Honda SUV outside the offices of Comet Communications where she worked as a copy editor. The past six months had been a roller coaster ride: her divorce after fourteen years of unhappiness, relocating to Deerfield Beach from New York, and meeting handsome and charming Luke Prescott. Like coins tumbling from a slot machine, things were falling into place. But holidays were a time for family gatherings, with platters of delicious food and huge fir trees decorated to the max.

  Luke had called the previous night to say he was still in Fairfax supervising the tech company’s move to Florida in January and couldn’t get away for the holidays. Only a few weeks ago, they had tumbled into bed. Now she longed to feel his warm and tender caresses and sweet sloppy kisses.

  “It’s a monumental job,” he said. “I wish I could be there. Aunt Zelda always counts on me to celebrate with her.”

  He was referring to his Great Aunt Zelda Kendrick who lived practically next door to Alexa and Hannah. She sighed. He caught it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are. I just miss you.”

  “I’d like nothing better than to hold you in my arms and make passionate love to you.”

  “I have a few naughty surprises for you, too.”

  Luke’s rich baritone voice dropped an octave. “Tell me.”

  “Nuh-uh. You’ll have to get your hot body down here. It’s my Christmas present to you.”

  Luke sighed. “Oh man. Now I’m horny.”

  Luke was disarmingly sweet, charming and handsome in an all-American-jock kind of way. But being apart for their first Christmas together was a bummer—actually an oxymoron. In his absence, she had to make her own fun—and some for Hannah, too.

  Someone rapped on the car window. Her coworker, Cara Galloway, stood outside grinning like she’d won the lottery.

  In fact she had!

  Cara had been declared the winner of the company’s first novel-writing contest. She was a sprite, a triplet who’d penned the frothy romance Love Times Three. She’d not only pocketed the five-thousand-dollars cash prize, her book would soon be published. Alexa had tried to write a novel, she started several in fact. But they all wound up in the cyber trash bin. On the day the winner was announced, she felt like a loser. She wasn’t, of course, since she hadn’t entered, but she was still beating up on herself about it.

  “I’m meeting with the boss this morning,” gushed Cara. “Bryan thinks I could be the next bestselling romance writer.”

  “That’s great! I’m so happy for you.” Alexa was happy, but also one-hundred percent jealous.

  “Will they want to change the story?” Cara asked. “They can’t! It’s perfect.” She frowned. Without waiting for a reply, she said, “Are the rumors true that you and Bryan Frost had a forbidden romance? I mean, he’s so drop-dead gorgeous, he must’ve knocked your socks off in the sack.”

  Alexa flushed deep crimson from her neck to her eyebrows.

  “Contrary to rumors, we didn’t have any kind of romance. Nothing.” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t knock my socks off. I don’t wear socks!”

  Even if she’d fantasized about sleeping with her boss, their boss, she hadn’t.

  Bryan Frost was a savvy businessman and also a micromanager who flirted with her nonstop while mentoring her first attempt at writing something that was more than a fluff piece for a local newspaper. And he tried to orchestrate the events in her novel so he could cement his fantasy romance with her. But it hadn’t worked and now he could foist his affection on Cara, his new protégée. That made Alexa extremely happy, especially with Luke in her life and her bed.

  “Just a sec.” She buzzed up the window, turned off the engine, and gathered her things. Cara was a chatterbox and Alexa let her prattle away as she wondered how to snag a couple of free tickets to Fiji or Bali, or perhaps Iceland or the Galapagos. But without the prize money it was tricky. Perhaps she and Hannah could stow away on a cruise ship or pop in unexpectedly on her mom in Portland. She might even be so overjoyed to see them that she’d pick up the tab for airfare. But there was one huge snag: Sari Conklin was so emotionally distant Alexa wondered if she’d welcome them with open arms or shut the door in their faces.

  It was a chance she had to take. She had to mend the rift between herself and Sari. It had festered too long
and this was the perfect opportunity to heal old wounds. All she needed was two free round-trip tickets. Maybe Santa had them in his bag of goodies or perhaps Bryan was the kind of boss who doled out hefty bonus checks. This was her first Christmas in Florida and while she didn’t miss the sleet and freezing rain, she had no clue about what to expect.

  She pulled the front door open and let Cara walk ahead of her into the small lobby. They were greeted by Crystal, the purple-haired receptionist covered in tats and piercings.

  “Ready for the holidays?” she asked, buzzing them into the main office.

  “I know I am,” said Cara, her face splitting into a huge grin. “It’s my first year anniversary as a married woman. What more could I ask?”

  Alexa had plenty to ask for as she set her lunch container on the floor. Not two minutes had passed when the office manager, Lana Cox, came strutting over like a hen on steroids, dressed in a forest green ankle-length skirt and a white blouse accented by a wide red belt. Did she think she was Mrs. Claus?

  Lana’s novel, Hearts and Shadows, had won second place, which meant she’d be a published author as well. Alexa imagined her already swelled head expanding to the size of a watermelon, bursting apart and flinging seeds and bits of brain matter throughout the open office. Instead of her usual morning hassle about working faster, Lana sauntered over to Cara Galloway’s desk where they huddled together like co-conspirators, a study in opposites.

  Tall, bulky Lana had no fashion sense whatsoever while petite Cara appeared to have stepped from the pages of a glossy women’s magazine. On this Tuesday, she wore black skinny jeans and bright yellow sweater, accentuated by a delicate black bead necklace. Cara’s hair tumbled over her shoulders like a chocolate waterfall while Lana’s bottle-blond straw-like tresses stuck out at peculiar angles.

  Alexa picked up a green felt pen, the kind Bryan Frost insisted upon, and began editing one of many self-help books that kept the niche publishing company afloat. Online editing programs today were fast and efficient. She could make a thousand changes with one click of the mouse, saving hundreds of hours of tedious work. But it wasn’t her call.

  Darn, Why Didn’t I Do That?

  Alexa scrutinized the title. It spoke to her. She opened the book to the first chapter: What Are You Waiting For?

  What indeed?

  “Earth to Alexa. I repeat, earth to Alexa.” Swiveling around, she stared at Lana’s ugly green skirt. “We need that book finished by five.”

  “I just started.”

  “Then stop dawdling and get busy.”

  Lana leaned down filling Alexa’s nostrils with the thick aroma of cheap perfume. “I heard through the grapevine that you didn’t even turn in a book for the contest. Is that true?”

  She tried not to breathe. “Maybe.”

  “Do you think next time you can come up with a decent plot that doesn’t involve the main character sleeping with her boss?”

  Alexa was shocked. In her aborted book the protagonist, Desiree Lightfoot, had been seduced by her boss. How did Lana know? There was a spy in the office, a mole, a rat, a snitch. She stood abruptly. “Excuse me.”

  Lana backed up as Alexa brushed past her and strode into the lobby.

  “Leaving so soon?” asked Crystal, adjusting her nose rings.

  “Just walking around the block.”

  “Block? It’s a parking lot.”

  “Whatever, I just need some fresh air.”

  “But...”

  Alexa pushed open the front door and stepped into a downpour. Somehow, in the few minutes she’d been inside, the cloudless sky had turned into a slate gray thunderstorm.

  Florida, love it or leave it.

  She was leaving—rewriting the narrative so Sari could be part of Hannah’s life.

  They were spending Christmas in Portland. Period.

  CHAPTER 2

  IN THE bedroom of her rented unit at Oceanview Apartments, the digital clock ticked silently toward midnight. It was late, but despite the hour, Alexa called Luke Prescott. His voice, thick with sleep, sounded worried. “Is everything all right? Did Zelda fall again?”

  She chuckled. “No worries, it’s all good.”

  Seductively, he murmured, “Mmmm, baby, its cold outside. What I’d give to have your naked body pressed against mine.”

  She flushed hot in the dark. “I can’t wait to see you.”

  His deep lusty voice buzzed in her ear. “Let’s do it, right now.”

  “Do what?”

  “Are you naked?”

  “I...I…”

  “Open your legs and let me slip between them.”

  “Uh, wait just a sec.”

  “Oh baby, I can’t hold back.” She heard him panting, heard him groan. Then a low long satisfied moan. “Wow you’re amazing.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned. That was the cleanest, neatest, and fastest sex she’d ever had.

  “Was it good for you?”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “So what’s up?”

  “I thought I’d go to Portland; see my mom over the holidays.”

  “But you said you’re not on the best terms.”

  Silence hung over them like a warm blanket.

  “That’s true. But I feel I need to go—for Hannah’s sake.”

  “Okay.” His voice registered disappointment.

  “I mean,” she said apologetically, “you aren’t going to be around.”

  “True.”

  “But I can’t find a ticket. Everything’s booked. Any ideas?”

  “We have a travel service.” His voice brightened. “So my gift to you and Hannah are round-trip tickets.”

  “No, Luke,” she protested, although it was exactly what she wanted. “It’s too much.”

  “This solves two problems.”

  “But how can I repay you?”

  “His voice dropped even lower. “You’re the romance writer. I’m sure you can be very creative.”

  “Yes, I believe I can,” she said, recalling an erotic scene she’d written for a book now in the trash bin on her desktop.

  Desiree parted her lips, licking them seductively with her tongue—an open invitation to whatever he had in mind.

  “You know what they say about Portland?”

  “Keep it weird. Remember, I grew up there.”

  “Come back safe.”

  “I’ll be here when you arrive in January, arms open wide.”

  “Legs too?”

  “Yes and every other part of me.”

  Afterwards, she lay in bed dreaming of Luke’s gym-toned body, his hands exploring every inch of her. She drifted off with a smile on her face.

  During their five-minute conversation, she’d had phone sex and scored two tickets across the country.

  Sweet!

  CHAPTER 3

  HANNAH BOSWELL walked down the halls of Pelican Middle School, her hot pink backpack bouncing on her spine as she chatted with her friends on the way to Social Studies.

  “Hannah Banana!” Bart Dworkin’s voice echoed in the noisy corridor. “Anybody kidnap you lately?”

  “Yeah,” chimed in his sidekick, Walter Otto. “Watch out, Santa’s coming to town.”

  The two broad-shouldered jocks laughed and nudged each other as Hannah shrunk turtle-like into herself.

  “Ignore those morons,” said Lakhi, her Pakistani friend. “They’re not worth it.”

  Hannah’s kidnapping had been big news. Reporters detailed how her dad, Mike Boswell, had sped down I-95 toward Miami International Airport with one-way tickets to Grand Cayman Island. An Amber Alert was issued and the ginger-haired seventh-grader became an instant social media celebrity, but for all the wrong reasons. Now she wanted to put the nightmare behind her, pass her mid-terms, and get through the holidays.

  “I hate when they call me Hannah Banana,” she whined.

  “Walter has the IQ of a carrot,” said Lakhi, “and Bart has the brain of a lawn dwarf.”

  They passed the locker
of Maverick “Doc” Devereaux, Hannah’s boyfriend. “Where is he?” she asked wistfully. He’d been her rock after the kidnapping. Now the tall, lanky basketball player had virtually fallen off the planet.

  “I have to see Ms. McD for a little while,” she told Lakhi. “I’ll catch up with you in English.”

  After the “incident” as they called it, the school principal, Cherise Wilkerson, had suggested Hannah talk to the school counselor.

  “It’s not good to bottle these things up,” she explained to Alexa. “Hannah might have PTSD.” Alexa had been surprised at the principal’s arbitrary diagnosis.

  “It was a stupid prank,” Alexa insisted. “She’s fine.”

  Wilkerson said, “Let’s try a few weeks, just until holiday recess,” and Alexa acquiesced. She had too many other things that needed her attention and Hannah might benefit from it.

  Now Hannah sat with Kathy McDougall, her frustration bubbling like a geyser just under the surface. “It’s so stupid down here,” the thirteen-year-old complained. “There’s no snow and the temperature is eighty. How is that like Christmas?”

  Before McDougall could answer, she continued. “My mom has the most pathetic fiber optic tree and we’re not even going to see Grandma and Pop-pop.”

  “Are those your mother’s parents?”

  “No. Grandma Sari lives in Portland. She’s not part of our lives at all.”

  “At all?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Hannah slunk down in the leather chair. When she spoke her voice was more controlled, barely above a whisper. “Grandpa Patrick, my dad’s dad, was in the hospital a little while ago. They thought it was a heart attack and he was going to die.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It was only a panic attack. But he could die any minute.”

  “Any minute?” Her eyebrows shot up.