Pugs and Kisses

by Farrah Rochon

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

From the New York Times bestselling author of Almost There, a second chance romance between two dog lovers, perfect for readers of Abby Jimenez and Jasmine Guillory.  

From the outside, veterinarian Evie Williams appears to have the perfect but boring life. She is desperate to figure out a way to shake it up, but gets more than she bargained for when she finds her fiancé in bed with another woman. Suddenly, Evie is without a fiancé or a job, and isn’t sure what her next steps should be. That is, until her college crush, Bryson Mitchell, returns to town.  

Now, a nationally recognized veterinary surgeon, Bryson is stunned when he encounters Evie Williams for the first time in half a decade. When they learn the animal shelter where they used to volunteer is in danger of closing, the two must work together to save it. It has Bryson wondering, can he and Evie also save the friendship they once shared and finally bring it to the next level?  

Release date: July 15, 2025

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 368

Sample

Dumbstruck and unable to speak, Evie Williams stared into the open doorway of her bedroom, her brain tripping and stumbling as it tried to process the sight before her.

Everything looked and sounded familiar—the sunlight gleaming off the polished footboard of her mahogany sleigh bed, the melodic tick of the ceiling fan as it spun on its highest setting. Even the perfume she’d spritzed herself with before leaving this morning—Jo Malone Peony & Blush Suede—still lingered in the air.

And yet, everything was different. She knew with mind-numbing certainty that her world, as of this moment, would never be the same.

This could not be happening.

The words tumbled around in her head, over and over and over again. This could not be happening. There had to be an explanation.

Evie tilted her head to the side and continued to stare, trying to make sense of the senseless. The dark green satin sheets she’d washed yesterday partially shielded a perfectly tanned ass that pumped up and down in rhythm to guttural grunts. She knew that ass intimately. She’d seen it this morning, when her fiancé had walked from the shower to his closet while she stood at their bathroom mirror getting ready for work.

An impassioned cry rang out as a pair of shapely legs wrapped around Cameron’s waist. Manicured nails clutched his back. They were painted a bright pink that Evie would never have chosen to wear in a million years.

The sight of that garish nail polish gave rise to another bout of confusion. The color was the antithesis of her own style. The man she knew better than any other would never bring a woman who painted her nails such an obnoxious color into their bed, would he? Cam had his faults, but he would never cheat on her, despite what she could clearly see happening with her own eyes.

This could not be happening!

She had to get out of here. Maybe if she left the house, then came back, this alternative universe she now found herself in will have righted itself.

Evie backed out of the doorway. Time slowed to the pace of a garden snail as she turned and made her way up the hallway, past the open-concept living room and kitchen, and out the front door. It felt as if her body were moving through molasses, the movements seeming to belong to someone else. Her hands fumbled with the house key as she locked the front door behind her and headed for her car.

She had experienced this particular sensation only a few times before, but it had been enough to recognize it as her body’s response to shock. She needed time to process what she had just witnessed before she could deal with it.

Evie opened her car door but then stopped with her fingers on the handle. Her head snapped up.

“What is there to process?” she asked the slanted reflection staring back at her in the driver’s side window.

She knew exactly what was happening. Cameron was in their bed, making love to another woman. The same bed where he’d made love to her last night.

The sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach morphed into a searing rage.

Evie slammed the car door shut and rushed back up the walkway leading to the house. This time her fingers were steady as she slipped the key in the lock and opened the front door. She marched through the foyer, her blood pounding to an angry beat in her veins.

She’d just entered the living room when a buck-naked Cameron sauntered out of the kitchen with a bottle of water, his toned six-pack abs gleaming and semi-flaccid penis bobbing as he walked. He ran a hand through his dark blond hair and brought the bottle to his mouth.

His steps faltered the moment he saw her.

“Ev… Evie!” he said, choking on the water. He glanced toward their bedroom. “Ev, what are… Why aren’t you at… ah… at Ashanti’s? Is everything okay?”

No! she wanted to shout at him. No, Cameron! Everything is not okay!

But the words would not come. Evie could only stand there. She stared in disbelief at the man she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with. Those plans were gone now, shattered by his callous disregard for their relationship.

“Evie,” Cameron demanded in an irritated voice. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my house,” Evie finally answered, both surprised and pleased at the calmness she managed to maintain. “Am I not allowed to visit my own house in the middle of the day?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “A better question is, what are you doing in my house in the middle of the day, Cameron?”

Instead of answering, he said, “You’re supposed to be at work.”

“So are you,” she pointed out. “But you’re standing in the middle of my kitchen without any clothes on. Why is that?”

“Stop calling it yours,” Cameron snapped. “I pay half the bills here.”

For the briefest second, Evie’s eyes flashed to the knife block sitting on the kitchen counter next to the Keurig. But the satisfaction she would get from chopping Cameron’s dick off wasn’t worth the jail time.

He could keep his dick. She didn’t want it anymore.

“Are you going to answer my question?” Evie asked. “Why are you standing here naked in the middle of the day, Cameron?”

“I can already tell you’re jumping to conclusions,” he said. He set the water bottle on the counter and held his hands up. “I only came home to take a shower. The Rousseaus’ rott-weiler got caught up in some barbwire. He was filthy when they brought him in and my scrubs were a mess by the time I finished examining him.”

It was no easy feat to stop her jaw from falling to the floor. Was he attempting to lie his way out of this? Seriously? For some reason that made her more upset than when she first walked up to her bedroom and caught sight of his bare ass in her bed.

Evie didn’t say anything as she lifted her phone from her back pocket.

“Are you calling the practice to check up on my story?” Cameron asked. “You don’t trust me?”

She managed to hold in the hysterical laugh that nearly escaped. Evie swiped across the screen. Her fingers shook, a clear indication that the calm she’d managed to maintain so far was on the brink of dissolving.

She held up the phone. She was just far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to make out what was on the screen.

“Unless you want the video I recorded of you fucking your little side piece posted on every social media site I can think of, you will get out of my house right now.”

She was bluffing, of course. She had been too shocked to even think to record him, but she didn’t need video. Just the threat would be enough to send Cameron scurrying. If Charles Broussard II caught even a whiff of scandal, he would snatch his veterinary practice away, leaving his youngest son to fend for himself. Cameron wouldn’t survive a month without the practice he’d inherited.

“Cam?” came a feminine voice from the direction of the bedroom.

Evie froze.

“Okay, Ev,” Cameron said, glancing toward the hallway. “Don’t blow this out of proportion.”

“You have five minutes to get out of my house,” Evie told her fiancé.

Ex-fiancé.

“Evie, be reasonable.”

“You can come back for the rest of your things later,” she said. She had to strain to get the words past the lump of emotion that had suddenly lodged in her throat. The weight of this moment, of what it meant for how her life would progress from this point forward, overwhelmed her.

Cameron took a step toward her. “Come on, Ev. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t you dare come near me!” Evie’s hand shot out in front of her, holding him back. “I told you to leave.”

“Ev—”

“Cameron, get the fuck out of my house!” Evie screamed.

He snapped back. The surprise on his face mirrored what she felt inside. She’d never shouted at him like that before.

“Cam?” the voice called again. A moment later, the blonde with the hot-pink nails walked into the kitchen wrapped up in Evie’s favorite sheets.

Great. Now she would have to burn them. That son of a bitch was buying her another set.

“Oh… no,” the woman said. “You’re the girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Get out of my house,” Evie said again. If she had to say those words one more time, she would not be responsible for the actions that followed.

Cameron and his—what was she? His mistress? His girlfriend? An escort he’d hired?—hustled toward the hallway leading to the back bedrooms.

Evie folded her arms over her stomach and sucked in several deep breaths. Every square inch of her skin hummed with an irritating, prickly tingle, as if someone were jabbing her with a thousand tiny pins. She would have to google the stages of emotional shock to figure out exactly where this complex mash-up of tension, anger, and disbelief landed on the spectrum.

When would the numbness set in? That’s what she wanted right now. Give her the bliss that came with not feeling anything.

At least ten minutes passed before Cameron emerged from the hallway. He wore the blue Vineyard Vines sweater she’d bought him for his birthday last month, along with khakis. It was his typical attire on Wednesdays when he taught a class at Tulane University.

That’s where he should be right now. If she was in a steadier state of mind, she would have remembered that bit of information when he’d tried to feed her his bullshit story about the Rousseaus’ rottweiler.

He must have canceled his class today. Was this the first time he’d canceled so that he could engage in midday activities that didn’t require clothing? How long had this been going on?

His mistress, ironically, was the one wearing medical scrubs. The pants were pink and the top had little balloons on it.

For the second time, Cameron’s steps faltered when he saw Evie. “You’re still here?”

“This is my house!” Evie reminded him, her yell echoing off the pitched ceiling.

The blonde looked between Evie and Cameron. “My shift starts in a few hours,” she said before hurrying past Evie and out the side kitchen door.

And, just like that, a huge piece of the puzzle fell into place.

“The broken tibia,” Evie said.

“What?” Cameron asked.

Last Halloween, Angelique James had arrived at the veterinary clinic with her son Mychal and Spanky, their Jack Russell terrier. The dog had gotten into the Halloween candy before the family had the chance to welcome any trick-or-treaters. While they were still waiting to be seen, one of the vet techs brought the Edwards’s bullmastiff into the lobby, and at the sight of the huge dog, Mychal had run like the hounds of hell were at his heels. He’d slipped on the tiled floor and let out a cry that Evie could still hear to this day.

Cameron had embodied Superman, the character he’d dressed up as for the holiday, swooping in and carting Mychal and his mother to the emergency room at Children’s Hospital. The eight-year-old had broken his tibia. And, to Cameron’s relief, his mother had not considered suing the veterinary practice.

“You met her when you brought Mychal James to the ER last Halloween,” Evie told him. “Was she his nurse?”

“Ev—”

She put her hand up. “I don’t care. Just leave.” That painful lump had returned to her throat, and it pissed her off.

Cameron dropped his head back and sighed up at the ceiling. The condescending sound had her reconsidering jail time. Maybe it was worth it.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Cameron asked.

“Do you think I give a fuck?” Evie yelled. A dull ache began to throb at her temples. She rubbed them with her thumbs. “I’m sure your little girlfriend has a nice enough bed. Go there.”

The bastard had the audacity to look annoyed. With her! As if she had somehow inconvenienced him by catching him in bed with another woman.

Evie had never had to fight so hard against the urge to commit bodily harm.

Without another word, Cameron grabbed the keys to his Mercedes S-Class and left through the same side door his girlfriend had used.

Only now did it occur to Evie that she hadn’t seen his car parked on the street. Finding a spot in this neighborhood could get dicey in the evenings, but there was ample parking during the middle of the day. If his trip home had been as innocent as he’d claimed, there would be no reason for him not to park in front of the house.

“That cheating son of a bitch must have parked on one of the other streets and walked.”

She didn’t care enough to follow him and find out.

An oppressive exhaustion came over her. Evie stood in the middle of the open-plan living area, unsure of what to do next. It all looked the same, but everything felt different. Tainted. She hated feeling this way about a place she loved so much.

She’d bought the house from her grandmother three years ago, when she and Cameron were going through one of their “off” periods. There had been three of those during their ten-year relationship. She had moved out of Cam’s one-bedroom condo with a vow never to take him back. With her grandmother’s blessing, Evie had gutted this house, renovating nearly every inch.

She sometimes regretted the decision to renovate, but not today. She didn’t want memories of what had just transpired to mar the sweet memories she had of this house back when Rita Mayeaux still lived here.

Her grandmother would have cut Cameron’s dick off. No question about it.

Evie closed her eyes tight and covered her face with her hands.

Cameron was right; she shouldn’t even be here. She should be at her friend Ashanti Wright’s doggy daycare, Barkingham Palace, where Evie worked as the in-house veterinarian several afternoons a week. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to continue with her workday—not in the state she was in. She couldn’t even remember what she had come home to pick up; to examine anyone’s pet in her current condition would be tantamount to professional negligence.

There was one thing she must do. And right now.

She stalked out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. She plopped her hands on her hips and stared at the scene of Cameron’s betrayal. Maybe if she washed the sheets in really hot water and added an entire bottle of laundry sanitizer they would be okay?

“No, they won’t,” Evie said.

She stripped the sheets from the bed and carried them outside to the ninety-six-gallon trash receptacle. Garbage collection had taken place this morning. If she had been paying close enough attention, it would have registered that the garbage bin was in its spot next to the side steps and not at the curb where she’d dragged it before leaving this morning. Cameron must have brought it in prior to screwing the nurse.

There were always signs. She just hadn’t looked close enough.

As she made her way back inside the house, Evie’s steps faltered as reality set in. Her world had changed. It had cracked and shattered right here on her grandmother’s polished hardwood floors, the one thing she had not stripped from the house.

She dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged, burying her face in her hands and fighting against the onslaught of emotions that threatened to suffocate her.

What was she supposed to do now? There was no way she could continue working at the practice. It provided access to too many sharp objects, and as of an hour ago, she had developed a penchant for violence she hadn’t thought herself capable of.

But where else can you go?

She had only ever worked at Maple Street Animal Clinic, the veterinary practice Cameron’s father had opened forty years ago and, after retiring, had passed on to his youngest son. Evie had joined Cam at the practice the week after she finished vet school. She had continued to work there even after their last breakup. It had been a delicate, two-month-long exercise of walking on eggshells while around each other and engaging in perfunctory conversion when warranted.

But that wouldn’t work this time. There was no way she could practice alongside Cameron. Not after this. He’d crossed her red line. He knew infidelity was the one thing she could never, ever forgive.

Evie threw her head back and screamed at the ceiling.

“My God, Cam, how could you do this to me?”

She’d put more of herself into this relationship than he deserved. Putting her own reputation on the line when a patient sued him for negligence, even though she was never sure if she believed his account of what happened that day. Forgiving him when she learned he’d racked up over a hundred thousand dollars in credit card debt—and helping him pay it off. Always making concessions for what he wanted to do, where he wanted to travel, how he wanted to live!

And how had he repaid her? By fucking another woman in their bed.

Evie pressed her fist to her lips. The anger and hurt tightening her chest made it difficult to breathe.

“How could you hurt me like this, Cameron?” she whispered.

She doubted she would ever get an answer. Not that the answer mattered. She was done.

Evie pointed the remote at the television and fast-forwarded to the beginning of the scene in Jerry Maguire where Dorothy and Jerry decide their relationship is no longer working. She snuggled more securely underneath the crochet blanket she’d dragged from the closet and looked on as, with aching sadness, Renée Zellweger told Tom Cruise that it was her fault for believing she was in love enough for the both of them.

Evie tried to summon a tear—she always cried at this part—but she couldn’t manage a drop, not even when Dorothy cradled Jerry’s head and pressed a kiss to the top of it.

“Thank goodness,” Evie sighed.

Her muscles relaxed with the welcomed relief of realizing she had finally achieved that sweet nirvana she’d been striving for since she put Cameron out of the house yesterday: Numbness. Blessed, beautiful numbness.

She stopped the movie just before Jerry showed up at Dorothy’s house for the famous grovel scene and went in search of another movie with a meaty breakup. Maybe Marcus and Angela’s in Boomerang? Or what about Allie and Noah’s in The Notebook? The breakup scene when they were teenagers, not the second one when they were adults. If she didn’t stop the movie in time and had to witness that passionate kiss in the rain between Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling, she may spontaneously combust. That would ruin her grandmother’s beautiful blanket.

“Oh, this is a good one,” Evie said. She waited for the opening credits of La La Land to start, then skipped to the scene where Sebastian showed up late to Mia’s play.

“Asshole,” Evie whispered.

The past twenty-four hours had consisted of watching the breakup scene of every romantic movie she could find. But only the breakup; she refused to watch the couple get back together. She wasn’t in the mood for that bullshit, happily-ever-after propaganda. Happily-ever-afters were for fairy tales. In the real world, even when you gave your everything to a relationship, it wasn’t enough.

Evie rubbed her breastbone with her fist. It had to be indigestion causing the sudden sting there because she’d just established that she no longer felt any emotion at all. She’d attained the numbness stage of the grieving process, and she would cling to it for as long as possible.

Her cell phone started dancing across the coffee table. Evie reached for it, intending to decline the call, but when she noticed her best friend Ashanti’s name—this was the fourth time she’d called today—she decided she’d better answer.

“Hello,” Evie croaked, muting the television.

“Girl, where in the heck have you been? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Do I need to send a search party out looking for you?”

“I’m sorry,” Evie said. “I had my phone on silent.” She pushed herself up from her prone position on the sofa and pulled one leg underneath her. “What’s up?”

“I’m the one who should be asking you that question. Wait—are you sick?” Ashanti asked. “You sound horrible.”

Evie jumped on the excuse. “Yeah,” she said, punctuating her lie with a cough.

“Is it COVID?” Ashanti asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, did Cam stay home to take care of you? Is he monitoring your temperature? Is he diffusing eucalyptus?”

“Cam isn’t here. I sent him away.” The words shot another jab of pain straight to Evie’s chest, proving she did indeed still have some feelings left in her bones. “I’m not sure if I’m contagious and I don’t want him to get sick.”

Another lie. She would hold a celebratory breakdance performance in the middle of Jackson Square if Cameron came down with the worst case of food poisoning known to man, complete with explosive diarrhea. But she wasn’t ready to talk about what happened yesterday, even with her best friend.

“Girl, I’m coming over,” Ashanti said. “I’ll wear a mask.”

“No!” Evie shouted. She added another fake cough that turned into a fit of real ones. That’s what she got for lying. She rested her head in her upturned palm and released a weary breath. “I’ll be fine, Shanti. I just need rest.”

“Are you sure about that? Didn’t you tell me years ago that you once suffered from asthma?”

“I haven’t had an asthma attack since I was in kindergarten,” Evie said, then reiterated, “I’ll be fine. I promise to check in with you tonight.”

“Nope. In an hour. And then every hour after.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Exactly how am I supposed to get any rest if I have to check in every hour?”

There was a pause, then an exasperated, “Fine. I’ll call you later tonight. You get one missed call, Ev. If I call a second time and you don’t pick up, I’m coming with the fire department and we’re tearing down the door.”

“You know where I keep my spare key,” Evie reminded her.

“Duh. The fire department thing was for dramatic effect,” Ashanti said.

“Bye, Shanti,” Evie said.

“Call me if you need anything,” Ashanti said. “Love you, girl.”

“Love you too.”

Evie set the phone on the table and, for the first time since last night, when she’d cried into the pillow in the guest room, felt tears welling in her eyes. She held them back because the time for crying was over, even if they were happy tears.

Looking back on the maelstrom of emotions she’d battled over the past twenty-four hours, gratitude had not been one of them. But just a few minutes on the phone with one of her best friends reminded Evie of just how blessed she was when it came to the people who truly cared about her.

She picked up the remote and switched from La La Land to her problematic fave, Love & Basketball. Instead of stopping the movie after Monica and Quincy’s college breakup, she let it continue to play through Monica’s stint with the international women’s basketball league in Barcelona and to her eventual return to Los Angeles.

Just as the opening notes of Meshell Ndegeocello’s soulful “Fool of Me” began to stream from the surround-sound speakers, the front doorbell rang.

“Ugh. Why?” Evie said as she pushed up from the sofa. If this was yet another person inquiring about her interest in selling her house, she would scream.

She made a mental note to order a doorbell camera. Cameron had never wanted one, had said they were too invasive. After yesterday’s revelation, Evie realized it was more than likely because having the camera would have made it . . .