Susan Andersen - Cutting Loose

Coming Undone

“Snappy and sexy…. Upbeat and fun, with a touch of danger and passion, this is a great summer read.”

- Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Sexy, wisecracking fun…. Passionate, romantic, emotional at times and always fun.”

- Contemporary Romance Reviews

Just for Kicks

“Deft characters, smart dialogue, laugh-out-loud moments and sizzling sexual tension (you might want to read Chapter 15 twice) make this hard to put down…. Lovers of romance, passion and laughs should go all in for this one.”

- Publishers Weekly

“Andersen’s follow-up to Skintight retains the charm and wit of the previous story…. Hot, hot, hot!”

- Romantic Times BOOKreviews

Hot & Bothered

“A classic plot line receives a fresh, fun treatment…well-developed secondary characters add depth to this zesty novel, placing it a level beyond most of its competition.”

- Publishers Weekly

Skintight

“Andersen again injects magic into a story that would be clichéd in another’s hands, delivering warm, vulnerable characters in a touching yet suspenseful read.”

- Publishers Weekly, starred review

“Written with Andersen’s signature sass and sizzle, this book will appeal to fans of Sandra Hill and Rachel Gibson.”

- Booklist

Dear Reader,

I don’t know what I’d do without my girlfriends. Women forge connections that make crummy days better, breakups a tad easier and bad hair days, well, still bad hair days, but so much less dismal with a pal to make you laugh or lend you her hip new hat to disguise it. So I’m really excited to introduce the first of my new Sisterhood Diaries trilogy, because this series features three women who have been friends since the fourth grade.

Jane Kaplinski thanks heaven for her two best friends. It wasn’t easy being the only child of self-absorbed second-rate actors, and there were times growing up when only Poppy and Ava’s friendship made all the stormy exits and theatrical reunions in her household bearable.

These days Jane has her life on track, and the only thing on her mind is fulfilling the final request of a dear old lady who bequeathed the Sisterhood her estate. Jane is certainly not looking for love-she’s way too familiar with the damage done in its name. Still, if she ever does fall in love, she intends it to be with someone stable. A nice cerebral professor, maybe.

Then Devlin Kavanagh, a footloose international yachts sailor with steamy stamped all over him, comes home to help his family business during a crisis. And all Jane’s careful plans go up in flames. Who knew arguing with an irresponsible heartbreaker could be so exciting? Or that they’d generate such heat? He’s got issues of his own, of course, so this can’t possibly last.

Or can it?

It was fun making sparks fly, as well as creating Dev’s and Jane’s friends and families. As always, I hope you enjoy my efforts.

Happy reading!

Susan Andersen

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This is dedicated, with love, to a woman I’ve known

since I was ten.

To

Marilyn Hansen

Who took the time to sit on her porch steps

to talk to me when I was a kid.

And who has been a warmhearted

friend since I became an adult.

You rock.

~Susie

PROLOGUE

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

EPILOGUE

Dear Diary,

Families suck. Why can’t I have a regular mom and dad?

May 12, 1990

“J ANE , J ANE, WE’RE HERE !”

Twelve-year-old Jane Kaplinski leaned out her bedroom window. Below, her friend’s chauffeur-driven car was parked at the curb in front of her middle-class house, her friends Ava and Poppy spilling out the vehicle’s back door.

“I’ll be right down,” she called, watching Poppy’s cloud of blond curls swaying in the breeze, her filmy skirts plastered against her slender legs. She’d probably bought her outfit at Kmart, but as usual she looked stylish and pulled together, while Ava, who had developed a full year and a half ahead of everyone else in their grade level, looked sort of packed into her pale green dress, its expensive workmanship tugged akilter at bust and hips. But her sleek red hair, brighter than a four-alarm fire, blazed beneath the spring sunshine’s sudden peekaboo appearance through the clouds and her dimples flashed as she grinned up at Jane.

Smoothing a hand down her own navy skirt, Jane flicked off her radio, aborting Madonna’s “Vogue” midsong. The front door banged open downstairs as she picked up her backpack and carefully closed her bedroom door behind her. She smiled as she headed for the staircase, imagining Ava’s usual insistence that they knock while Poppy countered they didn’t need an engraved invitation.

But it was her mother’s voice calling her name that froze Jane in place on the bottom step a moment later.

The suitcase in the foyer should have been her tip-off, but she’d been so focused on her outing with her best friends that she hadn’t even noticed it. Now here came her mother, ice clinking a familiar Parent rhythm in the highball glass clutched in her hand as she bore down with frenetic joy on her only child.

Crapdanghell.

“You’re back,” she said flatly as her mother gathered her to her bosom, and choked when her nose sank into Obsession-scented cleavage. She stood rigid until Dorrie loosened her grip, then edged toward the door.

“Of course I am, darling. You know I could never stay away from you. Besides-” she gave her hair a pat “-your father simply begged me to return.” Dorrie slung an arm around Jane’s shoulders and looked down at her, the aroma of Johnnie Walker Black wafting from her breath to clash with her perfume. “Look at you, all pressed and shiny! Are you going somewhere?”

Jane twisted away and took a giant step backward. “I’ve been invited to tea at Miss Wolcott’s.”

“Agnes Bell Wolcott?”

She nodded.

“My little girl is so highfalutin.” Dorrie gave her a swift once-over. “You couldn’t find something a little more colorful to wear?”

Casting a glance at her mom’s neon-hued top, she merely said, “I like this.”

“I have some nice red beads we could use to jazz it up.” She lifted a shiny brown hank of Jane’s stick-straight hair and rubbed it between her fingers. “Maybe fix up your ’do a little? You know how important staging is-if you want to look the role, you need to pay attention to the costume!”