From the 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 long-time mentor and boss to throw the fundraiser of a century to keep the doors open. Then Evie meets Jacob Broaden and there are instant sparks--but not the good kind. Although his ten-year-old daughter, Sam, was recently diagnosed with epilepsy, the newly single dad had no idea she set him up for an initial client meeting with Evie. It doesn’t take long for Jacob to be convinced that Evie, and 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.

Autorentext

Sarah Adams

Klappentext

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.

Leseprobe
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 if she gave me enough of her time, I could manage to change her mind.

The rest was history. Joanna Halstead, the woman from the coffee shop—­also known as my fairy godmother—­quickly became one of my best friends. I learned that she owned a service dog company called Southern Service Paws, and she trained and matched dogs with people living with all sorts of disabilities. Disabilities just like mine.

That’s how Charlie came into my life. It’s how I regained my independence and security. It’s how I decided to live on my own. It’s how my parents came to hate the company that I adore and am being groomed to take over when Joanna retires next year.

Well, company might be a bit of a stretch.

Company implies monetary value. And money is not something that Southern Service Paws has. It’s more like Jo is grooming me to take over her heart. Something that has a whole lot more value than money, but a shockingly low credit score.

I am the only other employee that is paid a salary—­the rest are volunteers. And, actually, salary is also another one of those deceptive words. When you hear it, you think benefits, 401(k)s, and down payments on pretty little houses. When I hear it, I just think of my apartment that is the size of my thumbnail and my kitchen pantry that is stocked with ramen noodles and Froot Loops.

Luckily, I love Froot Loops.

I will eat nothing but sugary cereal for the rest of my days if it means I get to keep working for Jo and her company. Because I love what I do and the people I help. And as cramped as I am in this little place, I’m proud that it’s mine—­not my parents’.

In this new world I have carved out for myself over the past three years, I’m just Evie. Not Miss Evelyn Grace Jones, daughter to Harold and Me…