Susan Mallery
On Sale Date: November 4, 2025
9780778387268, 0778387267
Hardcover
$30.00 USD, $37.00 CAD
Fiction / Family Life / Siblings
368 pages
About the Book:
A twisty, tender and wise look at how secrets can transform the powerful—and
sometimes problematic—bond between mothers and daughters, from #1 New
York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery.
When Shannon gets engaged, her beloved mom, Cindy, is the first person
she wants to tell—and the last. Cindy’s engaged, too, and has already hinted at
a double wedding. The image of a synchronized bouquet toss with her mom fills
Shannon with horror. She’ll keep her engagement a secret until Cindy’s I-dos
are done.
Victoria has never been proper enough for her mother, Ava, so she stopped
trying. She lives on her own terms and amuses herself by pushing Ava’s buttons.
Ava loves but doesn’t understand her stuntwoman daughter. When a movie-set
mishap brings Victoria home, Ava longs to finally connect.
Chance brings the four women together at a wedding venue, where a shocking
secret comes tumbling out. Twenty-four years ago, desperate teenager Cindy
chose wealthy Ava to adopt her baby—then changed her mind at the very last
second. The loss rocked Ava’s world, leaving her unable to open her heart to
the daughter she did adopt, Victoria. As Shannon and Victoria deal with the
fallout from the decisions their mothers made, they wrestle with whether who
they are is different than who they might have become.
About the Author:
SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that shape women's lives―family, friendship, romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to agree―40 million copies of her books have sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live. She’s passionate about animal welfare, which shows in the many quirky animal characters she has created. Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband and adorable poodle. Visit her at SusanMallery.com.
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How does the horse look?
Victoria Rogers pressed her good arm to
her very bruised, almost broken ribs. “Dad, don’t,” she said, trying to stay as
still as possible. “You can’t be funny. It already hurts to breathe. It wasn’t
a horse.”
Her father frowned. “I was told you were
thrown off a horse.” “I was thrown out of a truck.”
“Then how’d you get the black eyes?”
“The ground was a little bit pissy when I
hit it and punched me back.”
There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t
hurt. The good news was that now that the medical staff had determined she
didn’t have a head injury, they were going to give her drugs to help with the
pain. She’d already said she didn’t want any of that weak-ass pill stuff. She
wanted a nurse to give her a shot of something that would work instantly and
let her rest. Because in addition to the bruised ribs, requisite scrapes and
contusions, she had a broken left leg and a sprained wrist. Her previously
dislocated shoulder also throbbed, but that was kind of the least of it.
As she lay in her hospital bed, feeling
like death on a tortilla, she had the thought that maybe stunt work wasn’t for
her. Injuries came with the job, but this was the third time in five years
she’d landed in the hospital. The first time she’d messed up, so that was on her,
but the other two had just been plain bad luck. The incident with the truck had
come about because one of the tires had blown, causing the however many ton
vehicle to jump the curb—an action that had sent her flying up and over the
side. Gravity, being the bitch it was, had flung her onto the sidewalk. Hence
the injuries.
Her father studied her, his brows drawn
together in concern. “None of this makes me happy,” he told her.
The incongruous statement nearly made her
laugh. She remembered—just in time—that her ribs wouldn’t appreciate the
subsequent movement and they would punish her big-time.
“Today isn’t my favorite day either,” she
admitted, trying not to groan. “I didn’t wake up with the thought that I should
try to get thrown out of the back of a pickup.” Although technically getting
thrown out of the truck had been the stunt. Just not when it had happened and
without warning or a plan.
“I’m worried,” her father told her.
“I’ll be fine.”
“This time.”
She winced, and not from pain. “Now you
sound like Mom.”
Her father, a handsome man only a few
months from his sixtieth birthday, brightened. “Thank you, Victoria. That’s
such a nice thing to say.”
Given her weakened condition, she let that
comment slide. Honestly she didn’t have the strength to deal with it right now,
even though she knew her father understood exactly what she’d been saying. He
was only pretending to not get it.
“If you’re going to act like that, you
should go,” she said, then amended what could be construed as a catty comment
into something more kind. Mostly because she only had the emotional energy not
to get along with one of her parents, and her mother had already claimed that
prize. “Besides, they’ll be bringing my drugs any second. I plan to surrender
to sleep, so I’m not going to be very conversational.”
As if to prove her point, one of the
nurses walked in with a syringe. “Ready to feel better?” he asked cheerfully.
“Yes, and let me say, you’re my favorite
person ever.”
He winked. “I get that all the time.”
He slowly injected whatever the medication
was into her IV. Victoria drew in a shallow breath as she waited to feel that
first blurring of the edges of the pain. Modern medicine was a miracle she
intended to embrace.
The nurse left. Milton took her good hand
in his.
“I’ll let you rest,” he told her. “But
I’ll be back later tonight.” He squeezed her fingers. “Tomorrow, when you’re
released, I’m taking you home.”
Ugh. Victoria knew that her father wasn’t
talking about the pretty condo he’d bought her when she’d turned twenty-one.
Instead he meant the house where she’d grown up. The one where her mother still
resided.
“I don’t need to move back,” she
protested, feeling the first telltale easing of the pain. “I have a few bumps
and bruises.”
“Along with a broken leg. And what about your
ribs? You can barely move without wincing.”
“I have zero pain tolerance. I’m a total
wimp.”
He frowned. “You’re tough and stoic. If
you’re showing signs of pain, it’s bad. You’ll stay with your mother and me
until you’re well enough to be on your own.” He pointed at her. “I mean it,
Victoria. You don’t get a vote.”
Her father was rarely stern with her, so
his sharp tone warned her he wasn’t kidding. And she knew from twenty-four
years of experience that arguing with the man would get her nowhere. Milton
didn’t take a stand very often, but when he did, he was the immovable object.
“I wish you loved me less,” she murmured, feeling a little
floaty and stumbling over her words. “Okay, I feel drugs. Let me enjoy the
experience of breathing without, you know, wanting to die.”
Oh, baby girl. You’ve always been
difficult.”
“I know. It’s one of my best qualities.”
Her eyes drifted closed. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you more.” He kissed her cheek.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Come alone.”
His soft chuckle was the last thing she
heard.
Excerpted from Otherwise Engaged by Susan Mallery,
Copyright © 2025
by Susan Mallery Inc. Published by MIRA Books.
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