@ShylaColt #‎Left‬ ‪#‎grownfolklove‬ ‪#‎IR‬ ‪#‎ComingJuly15th‬



Deserted on his wedding day and left to raise triplets alone, Houston Maloney leaves his heart behind at the altar. Focused on his car restoration business and his three little ones, he’s made it through the terrible twos, and tougher threes with the help of Godmother extraordinaire, Liv Cole. When his fiancée Rain ran off with Liv’s boyfriend, Anthony, the two find themselves equally betrayed. While dealing with the aftermath, they form a strong bond.When a fire forces the feisty, independent, Liv to seek shelter in the Maloney home, the best friends begin to see what’s right in front of them. The passion flows naturally but their progression is hindered by past scars.Can they recover from loss and heartache to try again for love?


I clear my throat and glance back down the aisle. Mummers flow through the pews. What the hell is taking her so long? I have my best man, Ollie, behind me. We kept things fairly small and intimate. Hell, the church wouldn’t allow for anything more. The strains of Sea of Love begin. I can’t stop the smile that pulls my lips so wide they hurt. The music stops. Rain’s Maid of honor, and godmother to my children, Liv, stumbles into view. The tears and mascara tracks running down her umber skin make my stomach churn. Her eyes are red, and her heart-shaped faced looks swollen. Her careful updo is awry, along with her strapless black down. No. A white sheet of paper dangles from her hand. I uproot my feet from the floor and rush towards her. I met her at the last pew, grabbing her around the waist when she sways.

 “I am so sorry, Houston,” Liv says softly.“What the hell is going on?”

I pull her outside into the tiny hallway. “She’s gone. They’re gone.”

She hiccups.


“Anthony and Rain. I can’t believe she did this. How could I be so fucking blind, not to see it?”

She shakes her head.

“Gone where?”

I ask unable to comprehend the picture she’s painting.

“I don’t know. Sh-she said she couldn’t live this life anymore.”

She shoves the white slip of paper into my hand. I lift it, struggling to read as my hand trembles. My eyes burn. Moisture blurs my sight. I blink to bring the scrawling letters back into focus. Droplets fall, joining Liv’s tears. Grief slams into my chest like a freight train. The room spins around me. I stumble back, ball the letter up in my fist, lean my head back and scream. Wailing breaks out a moment later.



Website : http://www.shylacolt.com/

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