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  PRAISE FOR TIF MARCELO

  Praise for In a Book Club Far Away

  “We might not be able to choose our family, but we can choose our friends—and the books we read. In a Book Club Far Away celebrates both these blessings through a trio of army wives who, across the span of eleven years, learn hard lessons about true friendship and forgiveness. Adelaide, Sophie, and Regina are unequivocally real, full of foibles, compassion, moxie, and humor; I wanted to shake them, then invite them over for drinks. If you’re like me, you’ll turn the last page, then rush to call your friends and maybe start your own book club. Make this openhearted charmer your first selection; your friends will thank you.”

  —Sonja Yoerg, Washington Post bestselling author of True Places

  “Tif Marcelo has a way of writing characters that invite you into their lives from the first page. In a Book Club Far Away finds us traveling through a tumultuous decade with three army wives navigating love and loss and grief and hope and life, against the backdrop of books from various genres and authors. Marcelo takes a deep dive into the crux of female friendship, and the result is a story that is equal parts surprising, raw, funny, and delicious. A perfect next choice for your own book club whether it’s composed of twenty members or one.”

  —Amy Impellizzeri, award-winning author of I Know How This Ends

  Praise for Once Upon a Sunset

  “Once Upon a Sunset will sweep readers up in a heartfelt story of long-lost family secrets and bright new beginnings that spans from World War II to today. I always look forward to a new book from Tif Marcelo!”

  —Julia Kelly, bestselling author of The Light over London

  “Tif Marcelo does it again. Once Upon a Sunset balances a tragic family secret with a hopeful future, wrapped in an authentic mother-daughter relationship. Grab some sunscreen, dip your toes in the sand, and dive into this sublime beach read.”

  —Amy E. Reichert, author of The Coincidence of Coconut Cake

  “A richly drawn and poignant tale of finding yourself in unexpected places and connecting with the unlikeliest of allies.”

  —Amy Impellizzeri, award-winning author of Secrets of Worry Dolls

  “The lush backdrop of the Philippines brings new chances at love for both Diana and Margo as the old love letters connect them to a new family.”

  —Booklist

  Praise for The Key to Happily Ever After

  “A charming, fun read. I love these sisters! Clear your calendar—once you start, you won’t be able to put down this wonderful story.”

  —Susan Mallery, #1 New York Times bestselling author of California Girls

  “The de la Rosa sisters are much like the flower in their name: delicate and poised but also fiercely strong. As the trio takes over the family wedding planning business, they will need all those traits and more to transform their careers for a new generation. As they forge their paths both together and separately, these three sisters discover that love—like a wedding—is all about timing. Full of wisdom, wit, and, of course, wedding gowns, Tif Marcelo’s latest charmer proves that, sometimes, the key to happily ever after comes along when you least expect it. This endearing, deeply poignant trip down the aisle(s) is full of romance, unexpected twists, and the perfect helping of family drama.”

  —Kristy Woodson Harvey, author of The Southern Side of Paradise

  “The Key to Happily Ever After gave me so many emotions: I loved and cheered for all three sisters and wanted to shake each of them in turn; I swooned for all the romance; and I got choked up about their struggles and their victories. But mostly, I loved the de la Rosa sisters so much, and I can’t wait for the whole world to love them.”

  —Jasmine Guillory, New York Times bestselling author of The Proposal

  “Marcelo movingly portrays sisters who love each other to death but also drive each other crazy. Give this to readers who like Susan Mallery’s portrayal of complicated sisters or Jasmine Guillory’s sweet, food-focused city settings.”

  —Booklist

  OTHER TITLES BY TIF MARCELO

  Contemporary Fiction

  The Key to Happily Ever After

  Once Upon a Sunset

  In a Book Club Far Away

  Journey to the Heart Series

  North to You

  East in Paradise

  West Coast Love

  Anthology

  Christmas Actually

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2021 by Tiffany Johnson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542029650

  ISBN-10: 1542029651

  Cover design by Hang Le

  For my mom, Lita, who named our homes and who encouraged me to fly with my to-do lists

  CONTENTS

  MAP

  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

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Four years ago

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Weather: scattered clouds, 97°F

  One didn’t need to go to business school to understand that scarcity of goods increased demand, and in the case of the garter toss at a wedding it could escalate to a brawl. But Brandon Puso, a graduate of a bona fide business school, also understood that despite his objections against the garter-toss contest, the groom, his eldest brother, Christopher, had the final say. In everything. So he’d embedded himself with the three other single men at Chris and Eden’s nuptial reception and given the contest his all.

  And this was how Brandon found himself sitting in the dark corner of the reception venue, sans garter, and stripped out of his barong Tagalog. Now wearing a white V-neck shirt, he sipped a sinful dalgona coffee with a ziplock bag of ice pressed against his left knee (the bartender apparently felt really sorry for him) and watched the rest of the family dance the Cha Cha Slide. He had to nurse not only his ego from losing the garter to the wedding officiant, who’d decided to stay and party, but also the bruise blooming from a strategic tackle by said officiant.

  The chair beside him screeched back, pulled by a hand with perfectly manicured nails.

  “Well, well, well, this is where you’ve run off to,” a familiar voice said. Brandon tore his gaze from the dance floor to the ever-
elusive and gorgeous Geneva Harris, his big sister’s best friend and the plus-one to all their family dinners growing up in Annapolis, Maryland.

  He sat up, all but forgetting his knee.

  Brandon had spent so many nights with Geneva across the hall during sleepovers with Beatrice that he’d had a natural simultaneous inclination to think of her like family and as his forever crush. And here she was, no longer in overalls but in a short, loose-fitting, and delicate peach dress that tied behind her neck, a few inches away from him. She had a smattering of freckles over her shoulders, her skin a golden brown from her Filipino and White American mixed-race heritage, though now, two years since he’d last seen her, she resembled her Filipino mother more than ever.

  Then he remembered that she’d witnessed the wannabe WWE Royal Rumble he’d embarrassingly lost. He winced. “Did you see the reverend come down with the crane like he was the Karate Kid?” He lifted the bag of ice from his knee and shook it. “Direct hit.”

  She burst out a laugh, head tilting back. Her highlighted light-brown hair brushed against her shoulders.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just because you caught that dang bouquet. It helps that it had a more reliable trajectory and that Eden has an arm of a pitcher.”

  “Whatever you need to say to make yourself feel better, Bran.” She snickered. “You should know. I go for what I want, just like the reverend. Now that guy was intense. Talk about shameless.”

  “Like he’s been practicing for it.” With his head, he motioned to the guy not quite in step with everyone doing the slide.

  “I’m going to have to take a picture with him later. That’s going to be weird. I would rather be taking it with you.” She bit her lip as she smiled. “Seriously, though, what are you doing back here? You could be up there partying it up. I mean, this is your song.”

  “Ha. You’re never going to let me live that down.” His face heated now; leave it to Geneva to bring up his brother Gil’s wedding to Jessie about four years ago, where he’d break-danced to this song. It had been a dare, and at the time, his parents were still alive, and Brandon had not a care in the world.

  It was different now.

  “It was impressive, your dance.” She stiffened into a straight posture with her arms at ninety degrees. She popped and locked like a robot.

  “Please!” Brandon laughed. “You were lucky to see that in action.” Still, embarrassment rushed through him. The one thing about childhood friends was that there was no way to be cool or act cool. He was sure she’d seen him at his dorkiest. He reached out and gently pushed down her bare arms, which made her cackle. Soon, they were both cracking up.

  And were sitting much closer together.

  Imaginary red flags waved in front of his eyes while his senses sharpened. What was it with weddings that all the single people became vastly aware of one another? He had been flirted with twice during this event, and if this wasn’t his own brother’s wedding, he might have considered.

  And this was Geneva, which meant flirting was double off limits. Not only was he not going to touch that unsaid rule of never dating your sibling’s best friends, but the woman was intimidating and clearly out of his league.

  Still, those catlike brown eyes were channeling a different message. They were mischievous, and seeking. Was she—

  “Hey, you two.” Eden, the bride and Brandon’s new sister-in-law, skipped up, pulling Chris by the hand. Her dark hair was swooped up in an intricate bun. Her cheeks were pink, and she exuded joy. All at once, Brandon was filled up with this feeling of he didn’t know what. Gratitude? Relief? Their family had lost so much, but here was Eden, a hopeful reminder that life would go on. He hadn’t felt like this since his youngest niece, Kitty, had been born.

  Brandon stood, wincing briefly, and so did Geneva in anticipation of Eden’s hug. As if there weren’t hugs being passed around all day. He’d arrived that morning from Annapolis, and it had been a nonstop hug and food fest, blunting all his initial suspicions that it was a shotgun wedding—because the two hadn’t been dating that long.

  All that didn’t matter now. It was clear they were both in love—it was in the way Chris was looking at Eden at this moment, in awe.

  “The photographer wants to take a pic of the Puso siblings with me before the party dies down,” Eden said. “So c’mon, Brandon. Sorry, Geneva.”

  “No, don’t be sorry. I’ll head back with the rest of the party animals.” She gestured to the front, where a Soul Train line was in full swing. “Make sure to send Brandon back. He promised me some B-boy action.”

  Chris laughed and hooked an arm around Brandon’s shoulder. “It’s a promise.”

  Brandon pressed his lips together to contain his laughter. He eyed Geneva, shaking his head. “Not cool.”

  She returned a wink, sending another thrill through him. Was that friendly? Naughty?

  Maybe it was he who was lonely.

  As Chris began tugging him away, he grabbed his barong and donned it, and they walked side by side as Eden rushed ahead to chat with another guest. Chris’s similarity to their father was uncanny. His skin was the same dark brown, his black hair was full and slightly curly up top, and his languid swagger was so reminiscent of Joseph Puso it was like standing next to a ghost. It didn’t help that Chris also didn’t do small talk, and their interactions always felt a little stilted. “How’s it feel being a married man, Mr. Christopher ‘My Work Is My Priority’ Puso?”

  “Feels all right, I have to say.” His voice was gruff. “But it was time, you know? You figure out some things are important.”

  It was a funny way to describe his marriage on his own wedding day, with no talk of love or commitment. Then again, his brother had never been the touchy-feely type. “Well, Eden’s great . . . you know how I feel about her.”

  It was Brandon who’d introduced Eden to Chris.

  “She’s amazing,” Chris said. “Respiratory therapist by day and a published author by night? I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to build a home and business with.”

  Brandon frowned at yet another detached statement.

  “Speaking of, Bran.” Chris stopped and faced him, expression serious. “Your email about putting the Annapolis town house for sale. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you about that.”

  “Aw, that’s no problem. You’ve had so much going on with the wedding and Heart Resort.” The family business, a couples resort that had recently opened in the Outer Banks, had consumed all of them. It had not only drawn from each of their inheritances but relocated all his siblings to North Carolina, leaving him on his own in Annapolis. “But as I wrote, the market’s really good—the comps are favorable. I want to go into business, and that share of the equity could go to start-up capital. Besides, I’m ready.” He swallowed the rest of the explanation. A wedding was not the time to go into the fact that living in a town house with all his parents’ things was no longer serving him—his therapist’s words. In Brandon’s words, it was more like suffocating, dismal, and sometimes crushing.

  “That’s the thing, Brandon. The market is going to get better, and the equity will continue to rise. I think staying in it a few more years will be to our advantage. You still have a large portion of your inheritance to use for your start-up. Besides, living rent-free is about the best deal you can get in the DC area.”

  Unease swirled in Brandon’s chest; he knew it as anger. And if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t express it, it could whip around and become something else entirely and put him back in bed as it had when their parents had died. It might not happen that day, or the next week, but he’d learned the more he repressed, the greater the chance anger would turn into self-isolation. Wedding be damned, he was going to put this issue on the table. He’d tried to communicate with Chris time and again. “Kuya, I’ve got plans. There’s a condo in DC that’s perfect and in walking distance to work. And the town house is too big—”

  “You guys!” Eden called from afar. The rest of the famil
y was already outside the hall’s double doors. She was smiling, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Her expression struck a chord of guilt.

  He didn’t want to ruin this day—her day—with one more disagreement with Chris. While it was their dynamic to fight, he couldn’t make a scene. “We’re coming,” he yelled back. Then to Chris he said, “Can we talk about this later?”

  “Sure, sure.”

  But as they approached their boisterous family, Brandon had a feeling that he’d lost the battle already.

  For Geneva Harris, weddings were the battleground between the angel on her shoulder swooning over the new couple and wishing for her own happily ever after and the devil cheering that it wasn’t her walking down the aisle. The Chan-Puso nuptial was the sixth wedding in her schedule for the year, and Geneva had learned to appease these two parts of her psyche by engaging in some mild flirtation or a temporary fling. At this wedding, however, Geneva was facing a different challenge, and his name was Brandon Puso. At this moment, he was outside the glass double doors waiting his turn with the rest of the Puso siblings to take a solo photo with the bride.

  Brandon had grown up. Or perhaps the last three years had matured him. Gone was the boy who used to try to spy on her and Beatrice’s conversations. Gone was the college kid who’d needed help packing his suitcases for school—because she’d been there for that too. His face now bore his struggles, and it endeared him to Geneva all over again, except this time in a very sinful way.

  This was bad, right? Very, very bad.

  Geneva sipped the sparkling water just handed to her by the bartender to ease her parched throat.

  “Neva?”

  The mention of her nickname, only used by one person—her mother—doused Geneva in ice water. She righted her posture (yes, Lisa Harris noticed everything) as well as her brain because Brandon Puso was supposed to be like a brother to her. He called her parents Tito and Tita, gosh darn it. She should not think of him in any other manner but family. Get your mind to G-rated thoughts, Geneva. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Dad and I are headed to the hotel, iha. The Macarena wore us out.” She gestured to Geneva’s father, who was slowly making his way to the doors. He was a year poststroke and recovering slowly but surely, and he hated asking for help. As if his ears were burning, he turned their way and raised a hand.