Lucy Lang isn't looking for fireworks
She's looking for a nice, decent man. Someone who'll mow the lawn, flip chicken on the barbecue, teach their future children to play soccer. But most important: someone who won't inspire the slightest stirring in her heart
or anywhere else. A young widow, Lucy can't risk that kind of loss again. But sharing her life with a cat named Fat Mikey and the Black Widows at the family bakery isn't enough either. So it's goodbye to Ethan, her hot but entirely inappropriate "friend with privileges," and hello to a man she can marry. Too bad Ethan Mirabelli isn't going anywhere. As far as he's concerned, what she needs might be right under her nose. But can he convince her that the next best thing can really be forever? "Kristan Higgins is a rising superstar, thanks to...sweet plots with a deliciously tart edge." --USA TODAY on My One and Only "Both gut-wrenchingly emotional and hysterically funny at the same time...Kristan Higgins writes the books you don't want to end." --#1 New York Times bestsellingauthor Robyn Carr "Romance fans and lovers of women's fiction will devour this witty and tender novel. Highly recommended." -Library Journal, starred review on Somebody to Love "A funny, poignant romance." -Publishers Weekly, starred review, on My One and Only "Higgins has a special talent for creating characters readers love." -RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars on All I Ever Wanted "A heartwarming, multi-generational tale of lost love, broken hearts and second chances." -BookPage on The Next Best Thing Kristan Higgins is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author and two-time winner of the Romance Writers of America RITA Award. Her books have been praised for their "genius level EQ, whippet-fast, funny dialogue and sweet plots with a deliciously tart edge" (USA TODAY). She lives in Connecticut with her heroic firefighter husband and two extremely advanced children, one shy little mutt and an occasionally affectionate cat. "You have a whisker." Though I hear the loudly whispered comment, it doesn't quite register, as I am rapt with adoration, staring at the wonder that is my hour-old niece. Her face still glows red from the effort of being born, her dark blue eyes are as wide and calm as a tortoise's. I probably shouldn't tell my sister that her baby reminds me of a reptile. Well. The baby is astonishingly beautiful. Miraculous. "She's amazing," I murmur. Corinne beams, then shifts the baby the slightest bit away from me. "Can I hold her, Cory?" My two aunts mutter darklyonly Mom has held the baby so far, and clearly, I'm breaking rank. My sister hesitates. "Um
well
" "Let her, Cory," Chris encourages, and my sister reluctantly hands over the little bundle. She's warm and precious, and my eyes fill with tears. "Hi there," I whisper. "I'm your auntie." I can't believe how much I love this baby
she's fifty-five minutes old, and I'm ready to throw myself in front of a bus for her, should the need arise. "Pssst. Lucy." It's Iris's voice again. "Lucy. You have a whisker." My seventy-six-year-old aunt taps her upper lip. "Right there. Plus, you're holding her wrong. Give her to me." "Oh, gee, I don't know about that," Corinne protests, but Iris deftly takes the baby from me. My arms feel lonely without the sweet weight of my niece. "Whisker," Iris says, jerking her chin at me. Almost against my will, my finger goes to my upper lip
gah! Something thick and almost sharp, like a piece of barbed wire, is embedded in my skin. A whisker! Iris is right. I have a whisker. My tiny aunt Rose sidles up to me. "Let's take a look here," she says in her little-girl voice, studying my lip. Then, before I know it, she seizes the offending hair and yanks. "Youch! Rose! That hurt!" I press a finger against the now smarting hair follicle. "Don't worry, honey, I got it. You must be coming into the Change." She gives me a conspiratorial smile, then holds my whisker up to the light. "I'm thirty years old, Rose," I protest weakly. "And come on, stop looking at it." I brush the whisker from her fingers. The whisker was a fluke. I'm not menopausal. I can't be. Could I? Granted, I'm feeling a bit
mature today, given that my younger sister has had a baby before I did
Rose scrutinizes my face for another hair. "It can happen. Your second cousin Ilona was thirty-five. I don't think you're too young. A mustache is usually the first sign." "Electrolysis," my mother recommends as she tucks the blankets around Corinne's feet. "Grinelda does it. I'll have her look at you next time she comes in for a reading." "Your psychic also does electrolysis?" Christopher asks. "She's a medium. And yes, Grinelda is a very talented woman," Iris says, smiling down at Emma. "Don't I get a turn to hold that child? I seem to remember I'm also her great-aunt," Rose peeps. "And personally, I bleach. Once I shaved, and three days later, I looked like Uncle Zoltan after a bender." She accepts my niece from Iris an