From the New York Times bestselling author of Practice Makes Perfect comes an expanded edition of The Match —a charming romance novel about second chances and the healing power of love, with a never-before-seen chapter. Sometimes love finds you when you least expect it. Evie Jones has dedicated her life and very limited funds working for Southern Service Paws, the company that matched her with the love of her life: Charlie, a service dog trained to assist with her epilepsy. But it’s no secret that the company has been struggling to make ends meet. It’s up to her and her longtime mentor and boss to throw the fundraiser of the century to keep the doors open. Then Evie meets Jacob Broaden at a client consultation meeting. There are instant sparks—but not the good kind, because Jacob’s daughter set up the meeting without his knowledge. Ten-year-old Sam has been recently diagnosed with epilepsy, and has wanted a service animal ever since. While he had hesitations at first, it doesn’t take long for Jacob to be convinced that a service dog, and possibly Evie, with her magical, woodland-green eyes, might just be the best thing for him and his daughter. As Evie spends more time with Jacob and helps Sam find her perfect match with a lovable golden retriever named Daisy, she starts longing for something she’s never had before: a loving family. For Jacob, falling in love with Evie is the last thing he should be doing, but love has a way of finding those who need it most. Sarah Adams is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Rome, Kentucky series and the Los Angeles Sharks duology. She writes tender, joyful romances from Nashville, Tennessee—almost always with a cat curled up in her lap. Known for crafting stories full of heart, humor, and swoony slow-burn chemistry, Sarah’s books are a cozy escape for the romantics, the dreamers, and the deep feelers. Her Southern roots shape her voice, her characters, and her love of big emotions told with warmth and charm. Chapter 1 Evie I wake up to the feel of Charlie’s tongue grazing my cheek. I don’t like being kissed like this first thing in the morning. Mainly because I don’t like mornings, and I wish that he would get it through his thick head that I need my sleep. But just like every morning, he’s persistent. I am Sleeping Beauty, and he is the prince. Although, I’m pretty sure the prince didn’t roll his tongue all over Sleeping Beauty’s face like Charlie is doing now. What a different movie that would be. “Can you please just give me five more minutes?” I ask while shoving my head under the pillow in an attempt to block his advances. But he doesn’t like this game. Never has. It worries him to not see my face. We’ve been together now for three years—and he’s become the tiniest bit overprotective. But he’s the best snuggler in the whole world, so I allow his slightly domineering attitude. Plus, he really does know what’s best for me. He’s improved my life in more ways than I can count. It’s why I adore him. It’s why I let him lick my face at 6:30 a.m. It’s why I sit up in bed and roll him over onto his back and rub his tummy until his leg starts shaking. Oh, right. Charlie is my dog. Did I forget to mention that? More specifically, he’s my seizure-assist dog. I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was sixteen years old. It stole my adolescence. It stole my peace of mind. And more importantly—it stole my license. Turns out, the state doesn’t like it too much if you randomly black out and convulse. Believe me, under no circumstances will they let you behind the wheel of a vehicle once they get wind of the E-word. No one sympathizes more with the poor girl in the Beach Boys song about her dad taking her T-Bird away than me. Except mine was a 1980 slate-blue Land Cruiser with a cream-colored top. My dad bought it for me a month before my sixteenth birthday. Not even a week after that sweet sixteen, I had my first seizure. And my life changed forever. Those next few years were hard, to say the least. I was scared of going anywhere or doing anything. One day I was a teenager, blissfully carefree about everything besides the chip in my hot-pink glitter nail polish. The next, I was painfully aware of how small a part I played in my own existence on this earth. Charlie didn’t come into my life until I was twenty-three and still living with my mom and dad because I was scared to live on my own. Actually, I thought I couldn’t live on my own. But then I met a woman in a coffee shop who had an adorable white Labrador retriever at her side, a bright-blue vest strapped around its body with a patch sewed on the side that read Working Dog, Do Not Pet. The first thought that went through my mind was wondering if this dog could do my taxes. Turns out, they don’t do that sort of work. The woman was kind enough to field all my silly questions, because in her exact words, “ No question is too silly. ” But I figured