Winning You Over is live on Amazon! I can’t tell you all how excited I am to finally get to share this book with you.

Every book owns a piece of your heart as a writer, but some you feel more than others. And this story owns a larger part than most. There’s a lot of Tori’s story that rings true for me, and I hope you’ll come to love her the way I do.

You can read Winning You Over for free if you have KindleUnlimited, or you can buy the book for $0.99 for a little while longer. You can also order Tori's story in paperback.

Get your copy today!

Read it and let me know what you think! Leaving a review so others know you love it (whether on Amazon, Goodreads, or Bookbub) is a huge help to me as an indie author.

When you finish, you can find the bonus content (as well as all deleted scenes/extended epilogues) on my site at Vesperyoung.com/free-stuff

Read on for a little preview…

He was back.

With another woman, of course.

In fairness, Juniper Cove had approximately one and a half nice restaurants. Romero’s, an Italian place, had actual tablecloths. Reserved for nice occasions, like intimate birthdays, engagement parties, anniversaries, and, most loathsome, first dates.

It was perhaps wrong to hold Noah Kent’s frequent appearances at Romero’s against him.

Then again, the town had a hard time holding anything against Noah Kent, so maybe it was just my cross to bear.

It was funny. He should’ve been a womanizer, with a few dozen scorned women decrying his callous use-‘em-and-lose-‘em dating habits. In a small town like this, it didn’t take long for word like that to get around.

But no one ever said a bad thing about him.

No, they raved. His one-time dates would be overheard confiding in friends about how charming and flirty and hot and so help me, I even heard Eleanor Preston describe him as roguish.

I forced myself to look away from the table.

He was always in my section. I was half-tempted to ask Martina to handle his table—always the same one, in the back corner. But he tipped twenty-five percent, and I wasn’t exactly in a position to snub any tips.

Romero’s was a decent size, capable of seating forty in the main area, with large windows overlooking the beach, and another room sometimes used for private events that could accommodate another twenty.

Still, there was no avoiding them forever. I let myself watch for a moment. First dates are usually awkward, but Noah’s never were. You would see the girl fidgeting at the entrance, anxiously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Nervous, like anyone would be. But then Noah would arrive and whatever he said, it would be something charming and suave, maybe a self-deprecating remark, or a unique compliment about the dress, with enough innuendo to be flirty without being crude, and they’d all swoon. By the time they were seated at that cursed corner table, they’d be putty in his hands.

It was enough to make me gag.

Maybe it was envy, because I’d never felt that way with a guy. Even the one who was supposed to be The One. But I think it was just my body’s natural reaction to Noah.

That and hunger, since I hadn’t eaten since yesterday and this shift was unending. When another waitress walked by with a bread basket, I was sorely tempted to grab it out of her hand and shove the freshly toasted slices into my mouth. Unfortunately, we had a rather strict boss, so that wouldn’t fly.

Instead, I grabbed another basket and headed over to the lovebirds.

Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Noah never dated the same girl twice.

Noah’s gaze flickered to me.

“Welcome back,” I said with as much of a customer service smile as I could muster.

“Fancy meeting you here, Tori.” Noah grinned at me.

I ignored him. His date ignored me. I rattled off the specials of the night. Technically speaking, that is. I’m not sure how special risotto can be when it’s the special every single night, but whatever. We had our routine down to a carefully scripted dance.

“Are you ready to order or do you need another minute?”

His date didn’t spare me a glance. It was like I wasn’t even human.

I mean, come on. I get I’m the service worker, but it’s Juniper Cove. I recognized Molly as one of Eleanor Preston’s friends, and she had to recognize me.

“Oh, I can’t pick. Noah, baby, what’s good here?” She spoke in a faux baby voice that made me want to scream.

I kept my Customer Service Smile plastered in pace. Still, I couldn’t resist yanking their collective chains. “Oh, I’m sure Noah’s tried everything on the menu by now.”

My jab went right over her head. She just kept that befuddled, doe-eyed expression trained on Noah.

“The eggplant rollatini is the best I’ve ever had,” he said smoothly, even as it looked like he was biting back laughter looking between the two of us.

I wasn’t sure how much eggplant rollatini he’d ever actually had, given that Italian food wasn’t found anywhere else in a ten-mile radius (and that was only because there was a lone Domino’s outpost on SR-128).

That was Noah. Always the perfect thing to say, impossible to get the upper hand on. I don’t know why I always felt compelled to try.

They ordered, and their food came quickly since it was a slow night. I silently prayed they would finish up early. I told myself it was because I wanted to finish my shift and get off my feet. When I wasn’t refilling wine glasses, I helped the rest of the staff. No sense standing around staring at Noah Kent’s face, right?

The two stayed until just before we closed. I can’t imagine how stimulating the conversation was, since Molly seemed inclined to agree with anything Noah said. I wanted to shake her for no doubt adding to his already over-inflated ego. Noah paid, of course, and Molly didn’t even pretend to offer to split the bill. Not that he ever let anyone pay. I processed it and watched them leave, then found myself staring at their empty table.

“Tori.” A quiet, deep voice jolted me out of my thoughts.

I turned and flashed Angelo an exhausted smile.

“What’s got your head in the clouds?”

An older man, the line cook had taken a liking to me.

I shook my head. “Just thinking about passing out when I get home.”

“That so,” he said with a knowing look. I appreciated that he didn’t pry further into my thoughts. He had a soft spot for me, especially after everything, but never pressed me to confide. “You might not make it to the bed. You look like a stiff wind could blow you over.”

I shrugged at the comment, uncomfortable. I’d lost weight these past few months for several reasons, and no one noticed like a chef who thinks it's their mission in life to feed you.

“Leave the others to clean up. Have a bite.” He gestured to the small plate he’d fixed, some leftover penne with tomato sauce. My stomach growled at the sight.

Angelo had a habit of putting a bit of food aside for me when he could. I appreciated it, could already taste the penne pasta.

“Why’s this plate of food still out?”

I fought the urge to jump at the growling voice.

Mr. Manzo, our boss, had decided to stick around until closing tonight. He was currently frowning, looking from the plate of food to me and Angelo.

He was an okay boss, for the most part. But he absolutely loathed staff snacking on leftover food, even though it would just be tossed at the end of the night.

“I’ll put it away,” I offered, hoping he would let the matter drop.

Mr. Manzo shook his head and gestured to the waste bin. “Just toss it.”

Angelo looked like he was about to say something, but I silenced him with a quick jerk of my head. It wasn’t worth a fight, even if wasting the food felt like a crime. I scraped the pasta off the plate into the trash can, stomach clenching in protest. But it wasn’t worth jeopardizing either of our jobs over a single plate of pasta.

Satisfied, Mr. Manzo left without another word.

I left the kitchen and clocked out. My feet ached in the worst way. I’d carpooled with one of the other waitresses since my own car wasn’t an option. Unfortunately, her car was nowhere to be seen in the parking lot. I checked my phone and found a very apologetic text from over two hours ago, something about an escaped dog and having to leave early to look for him. Getting home had suddenly gotten a lot harder.

Could this day get any worse?

“There you are,” Noah said. “I was beginning to think your shift was never going to end.”

Yes, yes it could.

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Lots of Love,

Vesper Young