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  Also by Lynnette Austin

  Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys (Coming Soon)

  Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys

  Lynnette Austin

  Copyright © 2019 by L. Hallberg or Self-Publishing Services, writing as Lynette Austin. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, places, incidents, or organizations is coincidental. Cover design by Jen Fredette Edited by EDITOR Formatted by Self-Publishing Services LLC.

  (www.SelfPublishingServices.com)

  Praise for Lynnette Austin

  Picture Perfect Wedding-- Lynnette Austin has made her mark on contemporary romance and the imprint is solid.

  Night Owl Review

  Heart-tugging poignant and laugh-out-loud funny, Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys is an I-can't-put-it-down read. Nothing pulls at the heartstrings like regrets and "if onlys". Mix those with a possible second chance; scatter the path to that chance with emotional, realistic obstacles and present-day complications...and you have a book with "Winner" written all over it!

  Seriously Reviewed

  The Best Laid Wedding Plans— Lynnette Austin tells a delightful, romantic story about dreams, family, first love, and introduces a cast of characters that you will truly enjoy and connect with.... It is a very precious read that I recommend to everyone seeking a sweet escape into the wonderful world of brides, weddings, and extra-special locations for them.

  Fresh Fiction

  More Praise for Lynette Austin

  Somebody Like You— Maverick Junction is a perfect example of small-town Texas, filled with a wonderful group of characters that are as bighearted as the state they hail from...Readers will want to visit Maverick Junction again and again.

  RT Book Reviews

  Nearest Thing to Heaven is an incredibly romantic story with a wide range of emotions. The characters will capture your heart and have you cheering them on.

  Harlequin Junkie

  Must Love Babies— Austin's sweet small-town romance hits all the right buttons.

  Booklist

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Paradox City Limits

  Population 3,934

  * * *

  Wanting to slip into town as quietly as she’d sneaked out, Katie Sara McMichaels had driven through the night, planning her arrival while most Paradoxians would still be asleep.

  Last time she’d seen that city limits sign, she’d been a teary-eyed seventeen-year-old curled in a miserable ball on the backseat of her mother’s Oldsmobile. Midnight, May second, eleven years ago.

  She’d watched in the car’s side mirror as darkness swallowed Paradox and obliterated it both from her view and from her life, convinced she’d never return.

  That had been one month before high school graduation. Two months after...

  She rolled her head to the side and studied the large white Persian cat snuggled in the shotgun seat. Tucking two fingers beneath his fluffy chin, she tipped his head. Two clear blue eyes blinked at her.

  “What am I doing, Chia? What made me think for one single minute I could teach PE and Sex Ed to the high school kids of Paradox, Georgia? I must’ve been crazy as a peach-orchard pig to even consider this.”

  The cat grumbled as if to say, “Your decision, so deal with it.”

  Early morning mist shrouded the trees and the red-clay fields. When Thomas Rhett’s newest song came on, Katie Sara turned up the volume and sang along. Tempted to drop her pretty blue Mustang’s convertible top, she contented herself with rolling down the windows. Cool morning air rushed in.

  This would be okay. It would.

  Then her traitorous mind veered to forbidden territory. Paradox’s bad boy extraordinaire. Argh!

  Reiner Broderick, with his long hair and Harley, his total disrespect for rules, was the Big Bad Wolf mothers had warned their daughters about since the beginning of time. The fact that he’d even noticed her, Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes, had kissed her... She’d fallen ringing-bells and rush-of-angel-wings in love with him.

  Could he at least have had the good grace to ride quietly off into the sunset? No! The quarterback who’d signed the biggest contract in NFL history ruled the universe. The man’s mug was plastered everywhere!

  Even permanently sidelined by a shoulder injury, his face, that sexy-as-sin smile, that incredible, rock-hard body still sold merchandise. And so he continued to smile at her from every magazine rack in every store in every city, every small town, and every gas station and convenience store.

  He winked at her from billboards strategically placed along the highways advertising God-only-knew-what because she could never get beyond those eyes, that mouth. She could never catch her breath in time to read the message on the board.

  At eighteen, Bad Boy Reiner had been irresistible. The man he’d grown into? The mind-blowing, Grade A stuff of fantasies! Eyes the color of her grandmother’s cobalt vase when the sun shone through it and dark curly hair outrageously tousled and just a little too long. The strong, square chin with a deep cleft and a five o’clock shadow that almost hid the small scar Kip had put there playing pirates in third grade.

  Fortunately, he was off somewhere playing with a pigskin or smiling into a camera, making another quadrillion dollars. Since he’d left for college, the sport god had returned just once according to her friend Rhonda, and then only so the town could throw a tickertape parade and bow down to worship at his size-twelve feet. Because of that, Katie Sara could return home.

  Reiner Broderick. Riding the crest of the wave.

  And herself? She’d taken a steep plunge from the top, the fall hard, its impact cataclysmic.

  “But I’m safe, Chia. Reiner’s forgotten this little town even exists.”

  The answering machine picked up. Just as well.

  “Auntie Belham? Reiner here. The decorator called to say the house is finished and ready to go. I’ve about got things wrapped up on this end, so expect me Tuesday.” He hesitated, then grimaced. “Tell Felicity she can bring the rat with her. But in a cage. One with a good latch. A really good latch.”

  He hung up, flopped along the length of the leather sofa in his quiet bachelor condo, and scrubbed his hands over his face. Talk about going to hell in a hand basket. ’Bout summed up his life at the moment.

  Paradox.

  When he’d left there for the University of Georgia, he sure hadn’t let the door hit him in the butt. No, sirree! The prettiest sight he’d ever seen had been the city limits sign in his rearview mirror. He’d needed to get away. Tucking that football under his arm, he’d been top Dawg at UG and then right on into the pros. Problem was, no matter how fast or how far he ran on t
hose fields, he couldn’t outrun the memories.

  Bounding off the couch, Reiner moved to the sliders, stepped onto the deck, and gazed out over the Atlantic. A stiff sea breeze ruffled his hair. He’d miss his beach house here on Hilton Head. Planting his hands on the rail, he stared past the dunes and watched as little trails of sand curled out to sea with the waves.

  Once he’d graduated, his folks, footloose and fancy-free, sold the house he’d grown up in to become globe-trotting, archeological-dig junkies. He’d had no reason to head back to Paradox.

  Except once, and he’d only gone then as kind of a professional obligation. The hometown-kid-makes-good thing had embarrassed the hell out of him. But now... Jeez. As of three weeks ago, he actually owned a house there! And he had to go home. He had no choice.

  Reiner swore he could hear that city limits sign way up in Paradox sticking out its tongue, taunting him. “Nah-nah, nah-nah, nah, nah.”

  Chapter Two

  Katie Sara signaled and turned left, then left again onto Wedgwood Way. Her new street and her new home.

  During morning coffee and donuts at the Egg Basket, in line at Piggly Wiggly, and over after-work drinks at the Hole in the Wall, Paradoxians would undoubtedly speculate on where the money came from to buy the small house. Had she used money her dad had stashed away before they caught him?

  Truth was, Grandma Beatrice had left her a small trust fund. Truth was, she’d much rather have Grandma.

  For a long while, Katie Sara sat at the curb studying the house. The new paint job, the palest of yellow, with muted green shutters and a lavender tin roof, had added a whimsical touch. The white porch stretched the length of the front, crying out for rockers and a swing, some potted geraniums. And the white picket fence... The last owners had done it proud.

  The realtor, Jennie Mae Benson’s mother, told her the new people—from New York City, no less—had dumped a ton of money into it. They’d wanted a cute little get-away and used it only two weeks the first year, less than that the second. Now, the Yanks had decided to unload it.

  “Thank you, thank you,” Katie Sara whispered. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Karma.

  Chia hopped out of the car with her and padded daintily up the sidewalk, sniffing pansies and verbena along the way.

  Just as Katie Sara unlocked the door, the cat sneezed. “See? Always sticking your nose in things. Come on, Sneezy. Let’s take a peek inside our new home.”

  She stepped into the foyer and squealed. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Gleaming wooden floors scattered in all directions. Running a hand over the stair banister, she imagined it at Christmas, decorated with holly and white lights.

  “Home. At last.”

  Chia wove between her ankles in agreement, and she knelt to rub the cat’s head. “It may not be easy, though, baby, because some people won’t be happy to see us.”

  When she stepped into the U-shaped kitchen, she hugged herself. The area melted into a breakfast nook with a bay window, then on into the great room. A brick fireplace anchored the far wall. French doors led out to the yard and flooded the room with early morning light. Opening them, she tossed her head back delightedly when a gentle breeze carried the scent of the gardens inside.

  Chia tried to slink out, but two steps past the door, he sneezed again.

  “Get back in here, mister. Come on. Inside.”

  The cat skulked back into the house and moved on to sniff the baseboards. Leaving him to check out the living room, she wandered upstairs to two small bedrooms and a master suite that opened onto a small balcony overlooking the backyard. Pure heaven.

  Downstairs again, she migrated to the backyard. Just as she remembered it. Mrs. Larson’s hollyhocks splashed color along the side fence while sunflowers, wisteria, and lilacs clustered in the rear. A magnolia shaded the far edge of the yard. Ivy nearly covered a detached one-car garage.

  She sighed. It was a yard made for a family, for children. But since she’d been on exactly two dates in the last eleven months... Couldn’t have one without the other, could you? Well, you could, but she wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on the conventional method—not just yet.

  Rubbing her arms, she returned to her car and removed the urn. “I kept my promise, Daddy,” she whispered. “I brought you home to be buried.”

  Hot tears tracked down her face. “The only thing in the world that could have brought me back to Paradox. I can’t leave you here all alone.”

  Across the street, Philomena Passarelli and Marge Fisher drew aside the curtain in Philomena’s kitchen.

  “Lord, girl must’ve driven all night,” Marge said. “It’s barely daybreak.”

  “Ask me, she’s slinkin’ back into town like a thief...or a cat burglar.” Philomena eyed the Persian trailing Katie Sara.

  “Now, Phil, that was her daddy. That little girl didn’t do anything wrong, and you know it. Her mama got her out of here and away from people like you who wouldn’t let it go and rightly so.” Marge dropped the curtain back in place and sipped her coffee.

  The two were up early, hoping to catch a glimpse of the nasty no-gooder who’d taken to driving down their quiet street every morning at precisely six, radio blaring, waking everyone on the street. It had to stop. Today, they’d been ready, camera in hand, to record both car and license plate.

  And so, of course, he hadn’t shown up. Murphy’s Law at work.

  But tomorrow was another day. And, oh, they would get him. After all, true Southern women never gave up.

  Instead, they’d witnessed Katie Sara McMichael’s return.

  “Didn’t bring much with her, did she?” Philomena asked.

  “Nope. Unlike some that are movin’ back. Of course, I don’t guess he’ll bring much with him, either,” Marge said. “You know, he’s not even stepped foot in the place, yet?”

  “That fancy designer from Hotlanta sure has. Meetin’ delivery trucks practically every day. My nephew Arlo was in there. He says it’s not very homey lookin’. All neutral, you know? The new color.” She snorted. “No color.”

  “I’d guess he’s met with the designer and he told her what he wants.”

  “Wouldn’t you think he’d be curious, though? Want a peek?”

  “Oh, yeah. If that honey of a house was mine, I’d be on it like stars on Old Glory. But it’s not. Maybe once you’ve got a Super Bowl ring you don’t have time for unimportant things like homes and families.”

  Chapter Three

  The morning breeze tousled Katie Sara’s hair while her feet pounded the pavement. Finishing the second mile of her early morning run, sweat trickled down her back. She ran past manicured yards with glossy-leafed rhododendrons and porches with flower boxes of bright begonias and marigolds and petunias.

  Foggy mornings were her favorite, when the mist settled over the world, cocooning her, wrapping her in cotton swaddling and protecting her. Then, little by little, it lifted, revealing the world as if presenting her with a grand and wonderful gift.

  This morning, though, was crystal clear, silent except for bird song and the occasional dog’s bark. Lights blinked on in a few of the houses scattered up and down the street. The smell of bacon, cinnamon rolls, and coffee wafted from open kitchen windows.

  Memories surfaced with almost every house she passed. Some pleasant, others splinters to be painfully extracted.

  Speaking of splinters and pains in the butt. Katie Sara stopped and ran in place, her mind racing. Jeez. There had to be what? Twenty, thirty streets in town? And she’d picked this one to turn down.

  Out of all 3,934 Paradoxians, whom did she run into right off the bat but the two she least wanted to face. Well, no. Reiner Broderick topped that list, didn’t he? Not going there, though. Slam that door shut and fast! Dead end!

  So, okay, not first on her list of undesirables, but these two came in a close second and third.

  Her choices were limited. Since she hadn’t mastered invisibility yet, she couldn’t run past Twiddle-De an
d Twiddle-Dum sight unseen. Besides, they’d spotted her. If she detoured now, she’d come off looking like the chicken she was.

  Miss America smile cemented in place, sweat running down her back and into her eyes, hair stuck to forehead and cheeks, she homed in on the enemy. Hard to do genteel when you looked and smelled like wet dog, but what the heck.

  Cookie Renquist and Jennie Mae Benson, cheerleaders back in high school, stood two houses down at the end of the driveway. Drawing nearer, Katie Sara noted that sweet little ol’ Jennie Mae had gone slightly soft around the edges.

  Cookie, though, looked as toned and chirpy as ever, blond hair pulled back in the long, swingy, all-American-girl ponytail, her blue eyes twinkling—at seven in the morning.

  “Hey, Katie Sara. Didn’t figure to see you again.” Cookie eyed her, a predator sizing up prey. “Heard you were a professor at some big fancy college.”

  Katie Sara grudgingly came to a stop, doing a few knee raises to keep her muscles warm. “Yes, well, things change.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Jennie Mae elbowed Cookie. “Sometimes people think they’re all high and mighty, and then find out they’re just like all the rest of us. Gotta put their panties on one leg at a time.”

  Katie Sara flinched.