California Girls Read online

  The California sunshine’s not quite so bright for three sisters who get dumped in the same week...

  Finola, a popular LA morning-show host, is famously upbeat until she’s blindsided on live TV by the news that her husband is sleeping with a young pop sensation who has set their affair to music. While avoiding the tabloids and pretending she’s just fine, she’s crumbling inside, desperate for him to come to his senses and for life to go back to normal.

  Zennie’s breakup is no big loss. Although the world insists she pair up, she’d rather be surfing. So agreeing to be the surrogate for her best friend is a no-brainer—after all, she has an available womb and no other attachments to worry about. Except...when everyone else, including her big sister, thinks she’s making a huge mistake, being pregnant is a lot lonelier—and more complicated—than she imagined.

  Never the tallest, thinnest or prettiest sister, Ali is used to being overlooked, but when her fiancé sends his disapproving brother to call off the wedding, it’s a new low. And yet Daniel continues to turn up “for support,” making Ali wonder if maybe—for once—someone sees her in a way no one ever has.

  But side by side by side, these sisters will start over and rebuild their lives with all the affection, charm and laugh-out-loud humor that is classic Susan Mallery.

  Praise for Susan Mallery

  “Susan Mallery never disappoints and with Daughters of the Bride she is at her storytelling best.”

  —Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “Heartfelt, funny, and utterly charming all the way through!”

  —Susan Elizabeth Phillips, New York Times bestselling author, on Daughters of the Bride

  “An emotional and humorous look at the bonds between the women in an endearingly flawed family.”

  —Kirkus Reviews on Sisters Like Us

  “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations. Her engaging and comically touching Mischief Bay series continues to satisfy lovers of women’s fiction.”

  —Library Journal on A Million Little Things

  “Bestselling romance author Mallery presents a heartwarming stand-alone novel about a family brought together under unusual circumstances.... A compelling contemporary fairy tale that culminates in a satisfyingly happy ending. Readers will snap up this escapist summer read.”

  —Booklist on When We Found Home

  “The characters will have you crying, laughing, and falling in love.... Another brilliantly well-written story.”

  —San Francisco Book Review on The Friends We Keep, 5 stars

  “It’s not just a tale of how true friendship can lift you up, but also how change is an integral part of life.... Fans of Jodi Picoult, Debbie Macomber, and Elin Hilderbrand will assuredly fall for The Girls of Mischief Bay.”

  —Bookreporter

  “Mallery blends the friend-and-family relationships and self-actualization focus common to women’s fiction with the racy love scenes and happy ending of a contemporary romance, making this an excellent summer read for fans of both genres.”

  —Booklist on Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

  “Susan Mallery’s latest shows just how strong the connection between sisters can be.”

  —Good Housekeeping on Sisters Like Us

  “[H]eartwarming... Will appeal to readers who enjoy the intricacies of family drama.”

  —Publishers Weekly on When We Found Home

  “Mallery has written a delightful book, with realistic characters facing problems and situations in genuine, believable ways. There isn’t a false note in this book or series.”

  —Booklist on A Million Little Things

  “A dynamic story of these three women yearning to experience real love in their lives... A summer read you do not want to miss!”

  —Fresh Fiction on Secrets of the Tulip Sisters, a Fresh Pick

  California Girls

  Susan Mallery

  Also by Susan Mallery

  When We Found Home

  Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

  Daughters of the Bride

  Happily Inc

  Not Quite Over You

  Why Not Tonight

  Second Chance Girl

  You Say It First

  Mischief Bay

  Sisters Like Us

  A Million Little Things

  The Friends We Keep

  The Girls of Mischief Bay

  Fool’s Gold

  Best of My Love

  Marry Me at Christmas

  Thrill Me

  Kiss Me

  Hold Me

  Until We Touch

  Before We Kiss

  When We Met

  Christmas on 4th Street

  Three Little Words

  Two of a Kind

  Just One Kiss

  A Fool’s Gold Christmas

  All Summer Long

  Summer Nights

  Summer Days

  Only His

  Only Yours

  Only Mine

  Finding Perfect

  Almost Perfect

  Chasing Perfect

  For a complete list of titles available from Susan Mallery, please visit www.SusanMallery.com.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Reader Guide for California Girls

  Recipe

  Questions for Discussion

  Excerpt from Summer of Sunshine and Margot by Susan Mallery

  Chapter One

  “They’re frying bacon!”

  Finola Corrado tried not to smile at the panic in her assistant’s eyes. “The cooking segment is potato salad five ways. Bacon is the cost of doing business.”

  Rochelle’s horror morphed into indignation. “Yes, and right before that is the ‘What’s New in Sundresses’ segment. I’m very familiar with the schedule.” She set down her tablet, put her hands on her narrow hips and leaned forward, as if stressing the importance of her point. Her long, dark braids moved with her. “Finola, we have models in the building. Tall, skinny, hungry models. They’re starting to look feral and turn on each other. I’m convinced it’s the smell of bacon. Can’t they cook it somewhere else?”

  And people assumed television was glamorous, Finola thought, still trying not to laugh.

  “Move the models to the backup greenroom and tell them we have a humidity problem on set so they need to use extra hair spray. They won’t be able to smell the bacon after that. Tell the food prep person to clean up when the bacon is finished so there won’t be any more
odor.”

  “Oh, that will work.” Rochelle, a smart, ambitious communications graduate, relaxed. “I should have thought of that myself.”

  “You will soon enough.”

  Her dark-haired, dark-eyed twenty-five-year-old assistant would soon be capable of running the show, Finola thought as Rochelle left. In a few months, Rochelle would move on, taking a job that would give her more responsibility, and Finola would hire a new assistant, to begin the process again.

  Getting your foot in the door in the TV business wasn’t easy. There were plenty of crap jobs, but not all of them gave the right kind of experience. Finola prided herself on hiring the best and the brightest. She was very clear with her demands—she expected a killer work ethic, absolute loyalty and 100 percent of their focus. In return, she would teach them about the business, introduce them to the right people and throw them a big party when they moved on to greener pastures.

  Finola’s dressing room door opened again. One of the production assistants stuck her head in and whispered, “She’s here! She’s here. I can’t believe it. I’m so excited. Aren’t you excited?”

  Before Finola could answer, the assistant was gone, no doubt to spread the joy to others.

  Finola wanted to be cynical, but even she had to admit she was looking forward to meeting Treasure. AM SoCal was a successful show in a crowded media market. Being based in Los Angeles meant more access to celebrities than most shows like theirs, but even they didn’t expect to land a massive country-pop star like Treasure.

  At twenty-three, Treasure was a music phenom. Her last single had a million downloads in the first six hours after release and her YouTube videos all had over a billion views. She was appearing on the show this morning for a ten-minute interview followed by a live performance of her new single “That Way.” The hungry models’ fashion show and the potato salad segments would follow.

  Except for Treasure being such a big star, today’s rundown was pretty typical. Finola greeted her audience—both live and on television—with a bit of chitchat and a few jokes, then she invited her first guest onto the set. By eleven, the show was over and by noon, everyone on staff would be focused on doing it all again for the next show. Everyone but her, she thought with a smile. She was off next week.

  “Hawaii, here we come,” she murmured to herself.

  She and her husband needed the time away. They’d both been so busy lately, caught up in their respective careers. The week would give them time to focus on each other and their marriage. And maybe something just a little bit more.

  She was ready, finally ready, to get pregnant. Nigel had been eager for them to start their family for a couple of years now. She’d been the one dragging her feet. But turning thirty-four, listening to her mother complain about having three grown daughters and no grandchild, not to mention the realization that there would never be a perfect time, had convinced her they should go for it now. In honor of the decision, she’d packed a present for Nigel to open when they checked into their suite in Maui. She had a feeling the gift of sex toys and baby booties would get the message across very clearly. Nigel was nothing if not a man of action—they were going to have fun.

  She heard a knock on her door, followed by a loud, “Thirty minutes.”

  Thirty minutes until showtime, she thought, settling into her makeup chair and closing her eyes.

  She was already dressed and made-up, she knew her topics, had listened to enough of Treasure’s music to qualify for fan club membership, and she’d skipped carbs at breakfast so she could taste-test potato salad to her heart’s content.

  “Good show,” she whispered to herself as she slowed her breathing for her preshow relaxation ritual.

  She had fifteen minutes of quiet. Fifteen minutes when no one would knock on her door or burst into her room. She would collect herself and then head to the set where she would be miked and given a final dusting of powder before starting her show.

  She inhaled to the count of four, held her breath for a count of eight, then exhaled—

  She heard her door open, followed by, “Finola, we have to talk.”

  Her eyes popped open. Nigel was standing in front of her. He grabbed her chair by the arms and stared at her intently.

  “Nigel, what are you doing here? I go live in less than thirty minutes. What’s going on?”

  Nigel, a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, didn’t see patients on Fridays and they were leaving on their trip in the morning. What was so important that it couldn’t wait until after the show?

  He looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t the words that got her attention so much as the tone, and maybe the stricken expression on his face. Her stomach clenched.

  “What happened?”

  Visions of her sisters or her mother lying prone on the road filled her mind. Or maybe there had been a fire. Or a—

  “I don’t know how to say it,” he began, only to stop.

  Bile rose in her throat. Her heartbeat jumped a thousandfold and there was a ringing in her ears. Someone was dead—she knew it.

  “I’m having an affair.”

  As he spoke, Nigel released the chair and paced the length of the room. He was still talking—she could see his lips moving—but for the life of her she couldn’t hear anything. The roaring, rushing sound was too great.

  The words repeated over and over in her head until their meaning sunk in. Years ago, she’d fallen off a tall porch onto the grass below. She’d landed on her side and all the air had been forced out of her lungs. This felt like that. She couldn’t inhale, couldn’t stop the surge of panic that swept through her as her body began to tremble. The lack of breath was followed by a sharp gut-wrenching pain in her heart.

  How could he? When? With who? Why? They were married. They loved each other. He was her best friend. She was going to get pregnant on their trip to Hawaii.

  No, there had to be a mistake. He couldn’t have. Only as she watched him watch her, she knew he wasn’t lying and that he really had, with four simple words, shattered her and their marriage.

  “You have to understand,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry to have to tell you now. I know the timing is less than optimal.”

  “Less than optimal?” she shrieked, then had to consciously lower her voice. “Less than optimal? I’m about to go on live television. It’s not enough to dump this on me, but you had to do it right this second, to screw with me even more?”

  “I’ve tried to tell you so many times over the past few weeks, but you’re too busy to listen. There’s always another show.”

  She felt a flicker of rage and reached for it with both hands. At least anger would provide temporary strength.

  “You’re blaming this on me?” she demanded. “You waltz in here and announce you’re having an affair and it’s my fault you waited until just this second to tell me?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh, really?” She brushed away tears. “What’s it like?”

  He turned away. “I thought you needed to know.”

  Before she could figure out if she was shaking too hard to stand, he walked out. Just like that. She was alone with the nausea, the aches, the broken life and a ticking clock that warned her she had eighteen minutes and twelve seconds until she was live.

  None of this is real, she told herself frantically. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t happening and Nigel hadn’t just told her about an affair. He couldn’t have. Not her Nigel. Not the wonderful, warm, loving husband who was always there for her. She knew him, not the cold stranger who had just left.

  If only her ears would stop ringing, she thought desperately. If only she could breathe or cry or scream or run. An affair. Another woman had been in his life, his heart and his bed. Their bed. No. No! He’d slept with someone else, had whispered to someone else, had touched someone else, had orgasmed with someone
else.

  Her mind refused to believe even as her heart began to bleed. Betrayal and sadness and disbelief churned together until she choked. She had to get out of here. She had to go home and—

  Her gaze settled on the clock. No, she told herself. She couldn’t leave. She had a live show in fifteen minutes. She had to go on the air and act as if nothing was wrong, as if she were fine and the world hadn’t just fallen off its axis and into a black hole from which it would never escape.

  She sucked in air, being careful not to hyperventilate, then hurried to the mirror. After flipping on the harsh, unforgiving lights, she studied herself for a second before reaching for a tissue, then concealer. She looked wide-eyed and shell-shocked. As if she’d just seen something horrific. Or maybe just experienced it. Dear God, she couldn’t do this.

  “Finola?” Rochelle knocked once before entering. “They need you on set.”

  Finola nodded without speaking. She added a little more powder, then took one more breath before forcing a smile. “I’m ready.”

  Her assistant frowned. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “It’s something and it’s not fine.”

  Finola faked another smile and hurried past her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She made her way along the corridor toward the studio. She wove her way around false walls, backdrops and cables. The show’s producer smiled at her.

  “Have you met Treasure yet? She’s gorgeous. I only saw her from a distance, but wow.”

  Finola didn’t bother to say she had yet to meet the star. She’d been too busy watching her marriage collapse around her. Not that Treasure had asked for an intro—her request had been that they meet in front of the live audience so the experience “was more spontaneous.” As far as superstar demands went, it was easy and doable, and it beat one singer’s request for “six snow-white kittens to play with before I sing.”

  Gary, the sound guy, handed her a small microphone. She clipped it on her jacket’s lapel while he snaked the thin cord over her shoulder. He clipped the battery pack to the waistband of her skirt.