Without A Hitch Box Series, Books 1-3: clean romance novels

By Kent Hamilton

Imagine yourself thinking that you will have to give into the parental pressure of getting married, and then stumbling into your one true love. Without a Hitch features two characters destined to be together despite all of the odds working against them.

Faced with an unstable pregnancy, doubts about their fast moving relationship, a dying parent, and a crazy ex-lover, this box set leaves the reader with questions of doubt and loyalty that comes with most relationships. Readers will want the couple in Without a Hitch to defy everything that keeps them apart because they will want to believe that love can be as spontaneous as Kari and John's.

Can we believe John when he says that he is not betrothed to another woman? Can we be sure that he can love another man's child? Can Kari love a man after losing her husband months before? If you are looking for a love at first sight story, buy this box set to find the answers to the questions that may or may not drive these lovers apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Heirs Publishing Company
• Release date: Nov 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386357803

Kent Hamilton

Author Kent Hamilton has always had a natural flair for writing, right from his school years. A student of Columbia University, he has over 15 years of writing experience and is an avid reader of clean romance, dramatic fiction and the classics. Kent passion for evoking raw emotion and his honest representation of the human experience makes his work relatable to his readers. He enjoys drawing on the experiences of his surroundings, observing the behaviors of others and combining this with a healthy dose of imagination. He is a keen communicator with an eye for detail and this is reflected in his writing. Having written short stories since he was a teenager, Kent also contributes to online blogs and enjoys reviewing novels from new and established authors. He is constantly open to learning new things and thrives on reading fiction that evokes emotion and stimulated the senses. Prior to writing his clean romance novel Without a Hitch, Kent spent several years traveling around Australia where he met his current partner. He lives with her and their one year old daughter and his other passions include cooking, photography and film. Without a Hitch is a novel that questions the notion of true, lasting love and draws the reader into the hearts of its protagonists. Kent has recently started another romance story which he hopes to publish next year.

Book preview

Table of Contents:

Book 1- Without A Hitch

Book 2- Fatal Attraction to Love

Book 3- Piece of Cake

Without A Hitch

Book one

Table of Contents:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

ChapterNine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

ChapterTwelve

ChapterThirteen

ChapterFourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

ChapterEighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

Kari looked at her watch and tapped the reflective glass casing anxiously. She hated waiting rooms, always had. She remembered how her father used to always distract her as best he could while she waited to get her booster shots. He would scrunch up his face and do his Wicked Witch of the West impression at the top of his lungs, his voice reaching a crescendo at I’ll get you my pretty! He never seemed to mind the stares from the rest of the waiting room as long as Kari was cheered up by it. When she got older he moved on to tying his t-shirt off at his belly button and singing Britney Spears. Kari dabbed at the corner of her eyes. This was not the moment to cry.

She was in the waiting room by herself. Her father was not around to comfort her, and neither was anybody else. She was alone, and had to come to terms with that. She hugged her purse to her chest and rocked back and forth gently. She saw the receptionist look up from her keyboard and give her a wan smile through the sliding plastic windows. These were the windows that protected her from the gaze of crying women like Kari. Would her name ever be called or would she have to sit and reminisce until she inevitably cried into her own palms in the parking lot? Her best friend Mary had tried to convince her to bring someone along. They sat together every Saturday morning in Mary’s breakfast nook, sipping on hot tea and talking over problems, mostly Kari’s.

It’s not the sort of thing you want to do alone. Let me come with you, or Roderick, take him along. He’ll play pretend husband. You know how you get. You need company.

Kari sighed deeply and blew on her tea. Mary meant well, but taking along her friend’s husband to her ultrasound was just about the most depressing thing she could think of.

Thanks. And I know Rod would be great, but I’ll go alone. I’ll bring you a picture and you can pretend to think the reddish blob is cute.

You’re sure about this?

I am.

Well just know that we’re here for you through this. All the way.

Mary put her palm on top of her best friend’s hand and looked her straight in the face.

Kari smiled in the waiting room. She wasn’t alone. Not quite. The heavy wooden door adjacent to the plastic windows opened and a pretty, black nurse stood in the doorway holding a chart.

Goodbar?

Kari nodded.

Right this way.

She allowed herself to be led down the drably carpeted hallway and through the usual motions. She had her height and weight taken, the latter changed for the first time in ten years. She sat down on the crinkly white-papered bed and answered questions about herself and her entirely extinguished family tree. That was how her family existed to her now: a collection of ailments and genetic variations that she had to repeat to doctors, ciphers of their once tangible existence.

The doctor will be in shortly. The nurse smiled warmly at her.

Kari wondered if the nurse had children. Did they have her pretty, upturned nose? Did they walk with practiced, active strides? Perhaps they took more after their father. Kari’s mind was a mess of questions. She tried and failed to focus her attention on the posters and anatomical models that she assumed were all manufactured in 1990 and never again. It was as if every item in every doctor’s office in America was manufactured in one plant in the early nineties. The plant shut down, leaving doctor’s offices with hopelessly unfashionable posters and models until the end of time. This thought was allowed to fade away as the door opened and Dr. Wu came in the room.

Shall we get started?

She did not cry. She clutched the envelope in one hand and her purse in the other. She was sitting in her car. She hadn’t left the parking lot of the doctor’s office. Her cellphone was on speaker and the phone in Mary’s kitchen rang three times before being picked up.

Come right over.

They did not open the envelope until the kettle whistled and their teabags sighed as the boiling water was poured over. They each pulled the teabags up and down a few times. The envelope was between them.

May I? Mary asked.

Yes.

She opened the envelope and pulled out the glossy paper. They had each joked about the blurry pictures, but tears ran down Mary’s face as she looked at them. Kari cried at the sight of her best friend crying.

Well aren’t we a mess, Mary said, setting the pictures down on top of the envelope. But they’re just—

I know, Kari said.

Just lovely.

It’s a boy. I’ve been thinking, or I was you know, on the way over here. What if—

Oh Kari.

What if he looks like him?

That would be wonderful wouldn’t it?

What if I can’t do it? What if I look at him and can only think of Mark? What if my child only serves the purpose of reminding me that my husband has died?

There was a silence between the two friends. Kari was ashamed of her outburst of emotion, but she had not been untruthful.

He’ll be a reminder that part of him is still alive, Kari. That’s what he’ll be. I know it.

Well there’s at least one plus to all of this, Kari said, wiping her eyes and smiling, trying her best to lighten the mood.

What’s that?

It effectively ends my dating career. Will make life a lot easier.

Kari, you’re twenty-seven. You have your whole life ahead of you. You will find someone else.

Not one of your setups I hope. Lord, that was half the reason I got married in the first place. I had to avoid those like the plague.

They laughed uproariously. Mary’s history as a matchmaker was checkered to say the least.

I won’t set you up. Scout’s honor. But am I free to employ you?

Always.

You can still bake for my Easter brunch right? This doesn’t...change that?

I’m pregnant, not an invalid. You still have your caterer.

Good. You know? I think it’s time for some more tea.

Chapter Two

John’s phone rang and he flopped across his bed to answer it. He put the phone to his ear, laid back against his headboard and spoke.

Hi, mom.

John it’s your mother. John’s mother had this habit. She felt the need to assert that it

was indeed she on the phone and not an impostor.

I know mom. 

Are you not awake yet? You sound asleep. It’s 8:30 you’re gonna—

Sleep the day away I know. You are aware that I’m self-employed and can get up whenever I want?

"That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t exhibit a strong work ethic.’

You sound like a corporate training video mom.

Some people would take that as a compliment.

John was not one of those people. He sighed for a long time into the headset before letting it rest on his chest, nestled into his sternum.

To what do I owe this productivity-enhancing call?

Well your father and I were hoping you would join us at our neighborhood Easter brunch. It happens every year, and you’ve never once come with us. John’s mother was the type of woman who felt the need to establish that an Easter brunch happened every year.

You’ve only lived in that neighborhood for two years and I’m twenty-six years old. Why would I have gone with you?

We just thought it might be nice if our friends had a face to put with our stories. Some of them are beginning to joke that we don’t even really have a son. Can you believe that?

I’ll have to look at my calendar.

I can wait.

John set the phone on the edge of his bed and rolled over. He pulled a pillow over his head and scrunched up his eyes. It was too early for this. He didn’t have a lesson until eleven and he had not planned on being up this early, much less using the brainpower required to come up with an adequate excuse. He would have to bite the bullet. He rolled back over slowly and hovered over the handset.

Okay, he said softly.

You’ll come?

Yeah, I’ll be there.

I’ll tell your father. Have I told you about the caterer they had last year? You’d not believe the pastries at this thing. It’s incredible. Caterer was this woman your age, cute as a button. Married though. You know speaking of women getting married, your high school girlfriend Carol—

––––––––

John put the handset back down and rolled onto his face. He would not be able to go back to sleep now. That possibility had been taken away from him. He could hear his mother’s voice still going strong from the phone. He picked it back up.

Listen, mom I have to go. I have a lesson and I’ve gotta shower first.

He hung up the phone and put his feet on the floor for the first time that morning. He rubbed his eyes and picked up his wire-framed glasses from his nightstand. He looked up to see his beagle Margaret wagging her tail at him excitedly. Her bed was a miniature version of his own, headboard and all, that his father had made for him and surprised him with the year before. To be honest, he had not been thrilled with the gift and found it a bit tacky, but Margaret seemed to love it. Her bed sat across from his, where a normal person would have kept some kind of elegant window seat.

Time to go on a run? She wagged her tail even faster. Alright then.

––––––––

John’s first lesson of the day was Melissa. She was nine, an excellent tennis player, and very opinionated. She sat next to her coach on the bench and sipped on her water.

Shall we end the lesson with some serves? John asked. You were popping them yesterday, but you know—

You have to serve every day. It’s not like riding a bike, She completed his mantra. She knew his teaching shtick well, which isn’t to say she didn’t buy into it. Let’s do it.

So have you been thinking about it? she asked, catching a ball that John threw from the hopper onto her strings.

About what exactly? Particle physics? John Wayne movies? I have a few thoughts on both, but I wouldn’t say it’s been occupying much brain space.

No, about my mom’s friend, Jaycee. Remember, she picked me up that one time. She said you were cute.

Aren’t you much too young to be trying to set me up? This feels oddly like a conversation I’d have with my mother.

She popped a great serve up the T and held out her racket for another ball.

No. I’m too young to date boys, not to help them when they so obviously need it.

What makes you think I need it? I’ve got lots of stuff going on right now. Margaret is getting perilously close to mastering ‘roll over,’ though I’m not entirely certain she isn’t just falling.

The nine-year-old girl put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at her tennis coach.

Coach John. What can it hurt? She’s nice. She’s a dental hygienist.

Well I’d have sparkling teeth. That’s a huge plus.

Go ahead, she said. Make your jokes. But Margaret can’t fill up all the holes inside you.

You are an incredibly odd nine-year-old. Now keep your elbow straight. And you're opening up your body too early. Like this.

He demonstrated what he wanted to her to