Just Our Luck

by Denise Williams

Genres: General Fiction; Romance; Contemporary Romance; Multicultural & Interracial Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

"I'm a forever fan."—Tarah DeWitt, USA Today Bestselling Author of Savor It

LibraryReads Pick

A lottery ticket + donuts = love in this steamy new fake dating romance from beloved author Denise Williams.

Sybil Sweet has always been lucky, but lately she can’t catch a break. After years of bouncing from job to job in search of something that feels right and from man to man in search of something special, Sybil is worried that she’s the directionless, floundering daughter her family thinks she is. All she really wants now is a little financial stability and carb comfort. Lucky for her, she’s got just enough in the bank to buy a lottery ticket, and the late-night donut store is open.

Kieran Anderson put his dreams of becoming a doctor on hold to take over running his family’s bakery, and after fighting a losing battle to save the place, he’s exhausted, broke, and no closer to getting back to school. But when a whirlwind of a woman sweeps in late one night, flirty energy gives way to more…until she runs out the next morning, leaving behind her winning lottery ticket.

Lucky for Kieran, his attempt to return the ticket looks like a grand romantic gesture and goes viral, sending sales through the roof. In an effort to keep the store afloat and to convince Sybil’s family she can make good relationship choices, they agree to fake a relationship for three months. Even with hundreds of millions of dollars, finding each other might end up being the sweetest bit of luck for both of them.

Release date: March 25, 2025

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 400

Sample

1

Sybil

Sybil, it's already seven forty-five." My mom stood in the open garage door with her coffee mug in hand, waiting for me to free up her driveway. It was a little game we played every morning-me losing track of time in the shower and her tapping her foot and dressed for the occasion in her signature slacks and sweater set from Ann Taylor Loft. "We need to go. What are you doing?" Her tone was the one that communicated "you are the child who tests me" versus the one reserved for my sister, which sounded like "thank you for being exceptional, Grace." I'd really tried to be on time that morning-set an alarm and everything. It just . . . didn't work out.

"I found a penny!" I bent to wedge the coin from where I'd seen it peeking between the grass and the sidewalk under the last few layers of melting snow. My fingertips were chilled, but one didn't just leave a penny on the ground-at least, I never did. "Got it!" I held it out like a gold medal toward my mother before shoving it in my pocket.

This was a good sign. Today was going to be lucky. I rubbed my palms together against the cold, then waved through the windshield. Turning the key, I rubbed the dashboard to coax my old girl to life, and she sputtered but didn't turn over. My stepdad insisted she was a pile of junk, but I knew she just needed a soft touch. "C'mon, girl." I turned the key again and got the same result. "C'mon," I said, an edge in my voice. She was a pile of junk, but since I hadn't ever held on to a job for more than six months and was currently living with my parents after getting kicked out of my apartment, she was the only pile of junk I had. "It's my lucky day," I said, petting the dash again and hoping my mom didn't see me doing this dance with my car. She'd side with Paul, which would lead to a long lecture about responsibility, none of which I had time for today.

The engine roared to life, and I cheered, throwing the car into reverse and speeding toward the donut shop. Traffic was light, and I picked up my phone to dial Emi as I drove.

"It's my lucky day," I said into the phone as soon as I heard her answer, her breaths coming heavy as she talked during her run. I imagined her ponytail bouncing as she paused at a red light while we spoke. We were unlikely friends in high school-she was studious and captain of the debate team, and I was everyone's favorite invite to a party, but we discovered a shared love of gelato and the Channel 8 meteorologist we had to watch for a class project. With spoons in hand and an intensely inappropriate interest in barometric pressure, the rest was history.

"You always think it's your lucky day."

"I'm aways right." I waved at ancient Mr. Edwards, who clutched his bathrobe closed and waved his newspaper at me. Lucky again. No peek at his stretched-out briefs and everything sagging out of them this morning.

"Marcus and I are going to be at the bar tonight, so if your date is a dud and you want to hang with us . . ."

"No need." I'd been talking to Carl through the app for a few days, and he checked all the boxes. "I'll see you there, but I have total confidence he's going to be a ten. Plus, he has the most amazing eyebrows." He also had a real grown-up job in finance, liked dogs, and didn't make me cringe politically. Since I'd stretched the truth and told my mom and sister I was seeing someone kind and responsible to get them both off my back, it would be great if this worked out.

And it would.

Sure, my last several boyfriends had left a few things to be desired, and one had stolen all my forks before ghosting, but good things happened to me, and Carl was the next good thing. And if that good thing could help me convince my family I was more than just the fun sister, that I could be taken seriously, too, well, that would be a bonus. Grace had Warren, and if I could find a guy that was serious and motivated and . . . well, a little boring, I could show them they didn't have to keep worrying about me. "It's going to go great tonight," I repeated.

"Just in case. You know where we'll be."

I whipped my car into a parking spot. There were signs indicating it was backup-only parking, but I knew I'd only be a minute, and whose bright idea was back-up only, anyway? With a quick glance up and down the street for parking enforcement, I closed my door. "I told my boss I'd pick up donuts for the office," I said, hurrying toward the entrance. "She ordered them from this place, and today's the day I ask to be considered for that full-time event planning job."

"Good luck," Emi said as we hung up. The bell above the door to Joe's Donuts chimed as I walked in, the scent of sugar and fried dough making me want to stop and take a longer inhale. I rolled the lucky penny in my pocket and searched for the cashier. "Hello?"

There was a crash, and a man's harried voice from the back of the store called out to give him a minute. I imagined myself surrounded by the contents of a shelf I'd bumped into in the stockroom at my last job and sent out good vibes to whoever was in the back. Everyone had those kinds of mornings, and I had a couple of minutes, so I looked around. There was a bulletin board to my left covered in thank-you notes from young kids with large, uneven handwriting and donuts colored in with crayons and markers. A couple tacked at the bottom read "Get Well Soon, Mr. Joe!" next to a flyer and a collection box for the Pennsylvania Street shelter, asking for donations to support their programming. I slid a finger along the flyer and continued my visual inspection. The drink case gave a low hum, and the coffee urns were labeled with regular and decaf on handwritten note cards.

The pink frosting and brightly colored sprinkles covering the donuts at the front of the display case made my mouth water. I imagined tapping donuts in celebration with my boss when she applauded my gusto to ask for the job and offered it to me on the spot. I grinned and glanced down at my watch. She probably wouldn't care that I was a few minutes late. After all, I couldn't help there being a delay at the shop. Although the donuts and pastries were for a meeting with big potential clients. I tried to peek into the back again. "Hello?"

On the counter, two pink boxes sat, labeled "Josefina." I reached for my wallet, where I'd carefully stashed the petty cash before leaving the office. The total, $36.38, was written under Josefina's name in black Sharpie, the handwriting small and blocky. "Hello?" I said again, more quietly. It was 8:05 and the meeting started at 8:30. The shop was still, save the faint voices I heard in the back of the store. I could just leave the money with a note. "Here for Josefina," I called out. "I'm just leaving the money!" I thought I heard a grunt of acknowledgment from the back, and I flashed some side-eye to the closed swinging door. We all made messes, but the clerk still hadn't returned. Customer service at this place definitely left something to be desired, but I wasn't letting it get me down. "Keep the change," I added.

I rummaged through my purse for my wallet. If I broke a few traffic laws, which, let's be honest, I was going to break anyway, I could get to the office in fifteen minutes. My fingers landed on my keys, my phone, three ChapStick tubes, and a few loose condoms, but no wallet. "Shit, shit, shit," I muttered to myself. "No, no, no." I tossed it back on the counter and looked inside. On visual inspection, there was a fourth ChapStick rolling around but no wallet. My watch brightly shone 8:07 a.m., and I looked through the door to the back, seeing no one. I searched my purse one more time, as if the wallet would magically appear, and made a snap decision.

I snatched a napkin from a stack nearby, pulled a pen from the cup next to the register, and wrote a quick note and dropped it on the counter. There was a smiley face drawn in the corner of the top box of donuts, and I imagined the owner happily packing up the treats. I traced the smiley face, glancing around for the clerk again, and debated whether I should do this. But I would come back with the money and I did need to get going. I hurried out to my car with the boxes, tossing them into my passenger seat before peeling out. This was just a speed bump. I could make it there in time. It was my lucky day, after all.

2

Kieran

What were you doing on the stairs alone?" I asked, my voice sounding more panicked than intended. I looked my grandfather over for more injuries. "I would have helped you." There was a red spot on his arm, and he rubbed his thigh where I was sure a bruise would form, but I was most concerned about his head and ran my fingers across his scalp, checking for bumps or tenderness.

"Don't fuss. I'm fine." He waved off my hand and sank into the office chair.

"Granddad, you're not fine." I tipped my head to the side to check his left temple. "You just fell down the stairs."

"And lived to tell the tale," he said, offering me a wistful smile, the left side affected after his stroke, but the right the same smile I'd grown up with. "I've started my day at four in the morning for fifty years, and I'm ready to get back to work." He looked around the office, from the ancient desktop computer to the aging photos of my little sister, Lila, and me as kids.

I glanced toward the front, where I'd heard a customer call out. They'd probably left, and losing customers was the last thing this shop needed. Business hadn't been great for a while, but it was worse now. I hadn't given him the full scope of how bad things really were since I took over tending the store. He needed to heal following his stroke, and the stress would only make everything worse. I shifted so my body would block the stack of medical bills and second notices arranged on the corner of the desk, along with the letter from my medical school informing me that the deadline was nearing for me to accept or decline my deferral. Three months to make a decision and pay the outstanding bill.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "The doctors told you that you need to rest."

"You can't run this place by yourself, and Lila's still in school. And I'm not the one who looks like he's heading for an early grave." He waved away my touch again and pointed to my face, as if he could see the evidence of my exhaustion written there. "Admittedly, you didn't like how I made my way down the stairs, but I'm here now. Put me to work." He stood but wobbled before straightening, and I caught his elbows as I took in the sheepish and frustrated expression on his face. "Fine," he said with resignation. "But this conversation isn't over."

"No, sir." I settled him in the chair, ran to the front, and placed the "Back in Ten Minutes" sign on the locked door. The shop was empty, so as predicted, that customer had given up on me. Jogging back to Granddad, I wondered if giving up was the right call.

I'd planned to be a doctor since I was eight years old, when I learned what it looked like for someone to make things better, for someone to have the power to see a problem and fix it. I decided then that I was a person who would fix things. Now, despite my best attempts to take care of everything, it was all still broken, and the man who raised me needed me to be better. I let out a slow breath. He was right, and I wasn't sleeping enough. If I could get a full night's sleep, I'd stop feeling sorry for myself and could figure out what seemed impossible-how to get us out of debt and how I could return to medical school.

"We hired a teenager to help a little," I reassured him as we walked. I didn't mention that Chad was unreliable, that he listened to only half the things we said, and that we couldn't afford him, but that seemed to give Granddad some comfort. "We're figuring it out." I was careful to make sure my voice sounded positive and optimistic. "We got an order from a new business client, and it's on the counter right now for pickup."

"I hate that it's all on your shoulders, son." He paused, gripping the railing and meeting my eyes. We'd lived with him and my grandmother since social services took us from our mom, so he was the closest thing I had to a parent, and I knew that look. It was the same one he'd given me when I'd quit music in high school after my grandma died and I wanted more hours to work in the shop. It was the same look he'd given me when I'd skipped parties and going out with friends in college to stay in and study, and it was the same look he'd given me when he'd woken up after his stroke and learned I'd left school to help. It was the same look I'd pretended to ignore all those other times. "I don't want that for you. Burdens can be shared."

I nodded and motioned with my chin toward the landing. "You ready to keep going?"

He nodded, and we took it one step at a time up to the apartment over the shop. "Hey," he said as I unlocked the door. He pointed a shaky finger at the dingy linoleum. "There's a penny on the ground. Why don't ya pick it up? You know, for luck."

"Sure," I said, opening the door. "I'll grab it on my way out." I helped him inside, getting him settled on the couch and making sure he had what he needed. "Tom is gonna come by later, I think," I said before leaving. His best friend was a staple in our lives, and I was glad Granddad had some company during the day. He and Tom got up to all kinds of trouble in their lives, but at least he'd have a hand down the stairs if need be.