Holiday Magic: Miller Sisters Boxed Set

By Willow Sanders

What is it about the holidays that are so magical? For the Miller sisters, sharing a Christmas Eve birthday is just the start of their belief that the holidays are full of magic! Add in a trip around the world with a stranger for Sera, and getting snowed in with a stranger for Felicity, and that magic will lead them to the loves of their lives! Snuggle into your favorite cozy clothes, and join the Miller sisters on their holiday adventures!

 

Date & Switch
A Forced Proximity, Strangers to Lovers, Broken Hero, Curvy Heroine Romance
Broken-hearted Bryce needed any Sarah Miller to replace his ex-fiance on a trip around the world. Two strangers rooming together on a trip of a lifetime? What could go wrong?

Rental Clause
A Forced Proximity, Grumpy-Sunshine, Curvy Heroine, Holiday Romance
Felicity & Klaus both have reservations to the same Air BnB. When a blizzard disrupts their holiday plans, the pair will soon learn they're getting much more than they bargained for!

Under A Starless Sky (Bonus Story!)
A Forced Proximity, Second Chance, First Loves, Holiday Romance
Omar Ibe thought he'd found love, or at least, attraction, in Seraphin Miller, a client on his cruise around the world. It was clear, however, that her heart belonged to someone else. Now, a year later, he finds himself face-to-face with Evie and she isn't the gangly teenager he said goodbye to so many years ago. Maybe this year, his holiday dream of a happily ever after has finally come true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willow Sanders
• Release date: Nov 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215446812

Book preview

HOLIDAY MAGIC

THE MILLER SISTERS BOX SET

WILLOW SANDERS

Edited by

BRIGGS CONSULTING, LLC

Proofread by

CRYSTAL GRIZZARD BURNETTE

Copyright © 2022 by Willow Sanders

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Characters in this book are figments of the authors imagination and in no way represent actual people. Any similarities to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

This book is intended for an adult audience ( i.e. there is S -E-X in it).

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Date & Switch

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Epilogue

Willow’s Mea Culpa

Rental Clause

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Willow’s Mea Culpa

Bryce’s Birthday Surprise

Under A Starless Sky

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

Also by Willow Sanders

Pay A Visit to Willow’s Worlds!

Meet Presley Murray & Priscilla King

Meet Lennox Shaw & Jesse King

About the Author

The Beginning of the Love on the Air Series

DATE & SWITCH

Broken Hearted Bryce searching for his Sarah Miller.

It was the TikTok heard around the world. Broken hearted Bryce getting cheated on by his girlfriend the same day he bought her a trip around the world where he intended to propose. The tickets? Nonrefundable. That was what his TikTok said. He needed to find someone, anyone named Sarah Miller in the greater Boston area (or even within the Continental U.S.) to join him on the trip of a lifetime. Two strangers rooming together on a cruise around the world? What could go wrong?

This curvy heroine, broken hero, instalove, travel romance is guaranteed safe with no cliffhangers and no cheating (other than the ex-girlfriend Bryce kicked to the curb). Why not set sail on the trip of a lifetime!

PROLOGUE

3Months Ago

Not attending my brother’s wedding? That may have been a red flag. She’d had ample notice to coordinate coverage. Given she was lead architect, surely there were people to step in if issues arose. But she said there was a problem with a project, and it needed her specifically. She’d been apologetic and looked so sincere I never thought anything of it. Of course, problems come up at work. They happen to me all the time.

The wedding itself couldn’t have been more perfect. The amount of joy exuding from every person in the room who witnessed Penn and Tillie get married was palpable to the point of becoming overwhelming. I wanted the same. Bone deep I wanted what he had. The way Tillie looked at Penn as if he were responsible for the air she breathed. It constricted my chest and made it ache with want. I somehow convinced myself between the pre-wedding Bloody Mary’s and the dinner time champagne toasts that Sarah and I had that very thing. She was it for me. I recognized the light in Tillie’s eyes because it was waiting for me back in Boston.

If you love her, Penn said over tequila shots between line dances and cake cutting, you just have to go for it, Rye.

He was the only one who used the stupid pet name. My name was short enough without a nickname to make it even shorter. He knew it grated me. Given it was his wedding day, I let it slide.

"Life is too short to spend wasted time wondering is she the one? Look at me and Tillie- Raven. He tilted his glass toward his wife, who was telling a very animated story to a group of her radio friends. Twenty years wasted. I knew she was the one at five years old. And now, we’re forty and just finally figuring our shit out. You’re not getting any younger, oh big brother of mine. Do something crazy. Take a risk. Show up and shout it from the rooftops."

So I did.

I spent the rest of the wedding thinking about Sarah, our relationship, what we wanted in our future. We’d always made plans for dream vacations but somehow never found the time to take them. The few times we had taken vacations, they always turned into work trips. The hazards of owning hotels, I guess.

By the time I landed in Boston two days later, the entire plan was set in motion. A cruise around the world. Seven months and destinations on every continent. Hopefully when we came back, Sarah Miller would be soon-to-be Sarah Ellis. Or Sarah Miller-Ellis. Whatever she chose I was down with it. I knew she would be coming up on some down time. She’d mentioned repeatedly the partners wanted her to take time away from the office to get creatively inspired because she would be running point on a massive new project set to break ground in 2024. They wanted her fresh and brimming with new ideas. Which meant she’d have absolutely no issues getting permission for an extended sabbatical. What better way to refill the creative tank than exploring buildings of the world?

The twenty-five-minute ride to Back Bay seemingly dropped me in some weird time bubble where the minutes couldn’t move fast enough. It was as if every person in Boston metro decided to take a trip on the 28 in some weird conspiracy to double my travel time and make me suffer those last few miles home. I didn’t want to make idle chit chat with Kevin the Uber driver anymore. I wanted to be home, with Sarah. I wanted to hold her and see that excitement in her eyes and a ridiculous smile on her lips when I revealed my grand surprise. We’d order dinner from her favorite Middle Eastern restaurant and pore over the cruise itinerary. I’d slip my Amex into her wallet with a note telling her to spend her lunch hour getting some new clothes for the trip.

Huh… What are the odds? Kevin’s voice broke through my daydream. I couldn’t tell if he was speaking to me or to himself. It didn’t matter. He would offer the explanation anyway. The moment would forever be etched in my psyche as the last point of normalcy before the nuclear explosion took everything away from me. 4334 Marlborough Street?

Yes, that’s me. I told him, collecting my backpack and pushing the door-handle to let myself out of the backseat of his Escalade.

"I didn’t think this was a multi-unit. I thought you Back Bay Brahmins converted these all back to houses."

Brahmins. Boston slang for an elitist. Normally I’d have something to say about that kind of comment, but he’d hooked me in with his previous comment about odds, and I needed to get to the bottom of that.

"It is a single occupancy residence." I told him, my patience quickly unraveling.

You gotta roommate or something?

I don’t know why it was any of his business. Something made me answer him anyway. Perhaps because I still wanted to get to the bottom of his original remark.

I live here with my girlfriend. Is there a point to this discussion? I’ve been traveling all day and I’d like to get inside.

I guess it’s my day to play the lotto or something. My wife, she’s always saying that when the universe delivers you something funny like some weird common thread or something that stops and makes you pause that you should recognize it as the universe speaking to you and capitalize on that shift, you know? Like it’s a sign that the winds of change are bringing in something new. Something good.

What exactly does this have to do with me? I ask, meeting him at the back of his SUV to collect my suitcases.

"The pickup right before you was from this address, 4-3-3-4 Marlborough Street, to the Delta terminal."

A woman? I asked.

I didn’t think Sarah was traveling any time soon for work. Her projects from what she told me were all Boston based.

Nope, it was a guy. Didn’t talk much, and no tip.

I will forever ask myself why I needed more information. Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone? Make the assumption that he’d made a mistake or Uber’s location services made a mistake and it was actually one of my neighbors heading to the airport. But I didn’t. While we stood there, in the strengthening flurries, I just needed to know more.

Do you remember what his name was?

Kevin pulled his cell out of his jeans and opened his app.

Name was Paul. Paul G.

It was still entirely possible that my neighbors in 4332 or 4336 had someone named Paul G. staying with them. I didn’t know every going on with either one of them. Sure, we were friendly, but certainly not best of friends. Kevin handed me my luggage and wished me well, aloof to the fact that he’d just potentially ruined my life.

The house was dimly lit and silent when I walked in. The light over the stove shone, but Sarah wasn’t watching TV in the living room or working in the office. Only a few dirty dishes in the sink—nothing out of the ordinary. Up to my bedroom I’d nearly convinced myself how wrong Kevin was. Paul G. was obviously a pick up from one of my neighbors’ houses.

Sarah sat in the tub, ear buds in, humming softly to some song that played while she lay, in the tub drawing patterns in the bubbles with her fingertips. I stood and watched her for what felt like minutes. From my backpack I removed a card. The one I’d spent the whole return flight finding the perfect words to say. The card that closed with Let this be the beginning of a lifetime of adventure.

Bryce! You’re home. I didn’t expect you until after seven.

She straightened up in the bathtub, removing her ear buds and setting them on the window ledge. Her uneven smile was just a smile, not a signal that something was amiss. I’d caught her off guard. The washcloth that covered the distended peaks of her nipples wasn’t a sign she was suddenly uncomfortable in front me, who’d shared a house for over two years. I’d seen her naked body plenty of times and done any number of things to it; I couldn’t imagine her getting embarrassed by me seeing her in a tub. I startled her. That was why she covered herself. That was all.

Kevin put too many doubts into my head. He’d planted a seed that grew with the speed and efficiency of a weed in a prized bed of roses. Over and again in my head thumped the name Paul G. He didn’t deserve real estate in my head. Not right now. This was a time for excitement.

I have a present for you.

Her smile still didn’t reach her eyes. The washcloth still hid her breasts from me. She seemed to be bathing in cement, unable to move.

Give me ten minutes. I’m almost finished.

No, it’s just a card. You can open it now.

I dug deep down to find that kernel of excitement that just an hour ago filled every thought that surfaced. I came up empty each time I attempted to find a kernel of emotion. The smile on my face felt insincere, every muscle felt strained with the effort to keep it affixed.

Bryce, I’m soaking wet! I don’t want it to get ruined.

She said it in a laughing way. Like of course I wouldn’t expect her to open a card in the tub. The water would dilute the beautiful words I’d written and turn them into ink laden tears.

I booked us a trip, I told her, unable to hold on to the news.

The card she refused to take felt heavy in my hands. The red envelope almost like a signal telling me to stop. Don’t say the words. The card told me. Turn around and walk out of the bathroom. But I pressed on.

Your partners suggested you should take some time off when this project finishes. I remember they said you needed a creative recharge. I booked us a trip. A trip for the ages, Sarah. We’re going on a cruise, around the world.

I held up that stupid card. That unassuming red card lined in cream with gold foil stars. The card with a man in a tuxedo and a woman in a red glittery dress wrapped in a lover’s kiss on the front, and just my words on the inside. No benign well wishes or standard text for the love of my life.

I can’t take a trip around the world, Bryce. I have to work. I have deadlines and projects.

"But they want you to take time off. What better way to be inspired than to see all of the world’s greatest architects up close?"

That’s a big ask, Bryce. I don’t know anyone who has a boss that would be okay with them being gone for what? A year?

Roughly seven months, give or take. We’ll be at sea for a few long stretches—sometimes a full week. We can always use that time to check in with work, there’s Wi-Fi in the suite. We could turn it into a partial working vacation.

I can’t, Bryce. That’s way too much time for me to be away. I have responsibilities, and deadlines. When is this hypothetical trip taking place?

Whenever you can get the time approved.

She shook her head. I watched her push tendril of hair out of her face before looking out the window. I’d expected surprise. Maybe a little bit of shock. But this? It felt, off. Wrong. Did it feel that way because of Kevin the Uber driver? Or was she truly acting strange?

I can’t be away that long, she muttered, seemingly to herself.

Can’t be away that long, or don’t want to be away that long?

Despite feeling the warmth of the tiles beneath my feet, and the fragrant humid air encircling the room, I felt chilled. It was as if the house itself knew a secret. It was now or never. Either I pointed to the elephant which had taken up space in the room inside my head, or I shoved it down, pretended Kevin from Uber didn’t exist and no one had ever told me about Paul G.

I turned on my heel and walked into the bedroom. She said she needed a few minutes to finish her bath. I left her, with her washcloth still covering the body I’d seen millions of times in the two years she lived with me. Nothing was out of sorts in our bedroom. The linens were new, fresh. I could still smell that warm, pink smell that fabric softener has when the sheets come out of the dryer. It didn’t mean anything though. The cleaning lady could have recently changed them.

You caught me off guard. Sarah flitted into the bedroom, wrapped her arms around my neck and placed a kiss on my check, I had this whole plan. I was going to order dinner from our favorite Italian place, set the table, play some music…the whole shebang. When did you decide to take an earlier flight? I could have sworn you landed at seven fifteen.

I held her face between my hands and kissed her. Hoping there would be no lie on her tongue to taste. With desperation I wanted to believe Kevin from Uber was mistaken.

She kissed me like she had a million times. Soft. Sweet. Arms around my neck, melting against my body. I deepened the kiss, tickling my tongue against the swell of her bottom lip, knowing she’d bend against me, unable to resist. I pulled against the belt of her robe, inserted my hand into the opening, and palmed one of the breasts she’d denied me.

There was a bite mark.

On her breast.

I see Paul likes it rough.

She didn’t reply but the shock in her eyes said everything I needed to know.

Eventually after the denial and the tears, there was vitriol. I was too career focused. Passionless. Having sex with me was like fucking a robot. Her vibrator and a fresh charge did things better than I did. I didn’t see her for her. It went several rounds, and eventually after hours of fighting that left me feeling weak and raw, I asked her to leave.

CHAPTER ONE

Iowned the townhouse on Marlborough Street. Sarah moved in with me once we’d gotten to that point in our relationship. It shouldn’t look so empty. Nearly all of the furniture remained. She didn’t take much. A few pictures and a piece or two. Most of the house was unchanged. Except the bed. I bought a new one of those the morning after I asked her to leave.

Thank god we never got around to getting that dog.

Penn lay sprawled across my sofa watching football. We’d practically become one with leather. Our drinking began at morning kickoff, and we were well into Sunday Night Football territory.

He and Tillie closed on their New York condo now that they officially resided in Chicago. Tillie headed back to Chicago, Penn came and hung out with me in Boston. We were supposed to discuss our hotel territories since he no longer lived on the east coast. That was work shit though. We didn’t talk work on Sundays. Even if we were gearing up to expand Ellis into Europe and had a million details to discuss.

I’m really sorry I suggested you do something crazy. He accepted the beer I handed him, taking a long drink before continuing, You’re definitely not the wild and crazy type. I should have told you to—I don’t know—send her a thousand yellow daisies and litter the house with them. Something low risk.

I bought the cruise. He bared zero responsibility for that move. It would have been a once in a lifetime kind of trip and seemed to be the perfect gift.

Well, finding out Sarah lived a totally separate life while I was away on business was worth the hundred and twenty grand I’ll lose on those tickets.

She insisted they never fucked without a condom, but I didn’t believe it. I’d be testing every month to make sure he didn’t pass something to me. Even with that and losing the equivalent value of a small house to the wasted vacation, I still preferred knowing now before I’d put my name on anything legally binding. Sure STDs would be a gift that kept on giving, but so was alimony.

Why not go anyway? Penn asked, waking up his iPad to tap something onto it. When’s the last time you took a vacation?

A vacation and a seven-month trip around the world are vastly different and you know it.

You were going to do it when Sarah was in the picture.

I could see he knew he stepped in shit. While he hid that knowledge behind a deep pull from his bottle, he couldn’t hide how his eyes rounded and practically doubled in size when he mentioned her name.

Yes, but that was different.

Going alone would be depressing as fuck. If I did somehow break down and follow his advice, I’d more than likely bury myself in work the whole trip. Which was exactly what I’d been doing since our break up.

What if you found someone to go with you?

My Instagram feed was full of happy fucking couples. I’d gone from the serial dater in my twenties to facing life alone in my forties. Even my younger brother was married now. Most of my friends had one if not two kids. Some of those kids were starting or finishing college. Like that wasn’t a kick in the nuts.

Do you know another Sarah Miller of Boston, Massachusetts?

Now that the haze of Penn’s wedding and the persistent desire to feel the same kind of love they did had begun to wear off, I had a bit of clarity. Purchasing non-refundable tickets definitely hadn’t been wise. Nor was declining the proffered travel insurance.

According to Google there are seven hundred and two in Massachusetts, surely one of them is single.

I snatched his iPad out of his hand, swiping down the very long list of various Google hits for Sarah Millers. His search was just Sarah without the h. The number surely would catapult into the thousands with the two combined. Not that I considered Penn’s crackpot scheme. My brain told my face under no circumstance would I be interested in something so crazy. My brain forgot to give my mouth the memo.

"Am I supposed to email every single one of them? That would be the most pitiful email known to man. Hi I’m Bryce. I broke up with my girlfriend. Her name was Sarah Miller. Oh hey so is yours. Wanna come on a vacation with me? I promise the fact that we’ll be at sea with minimum access to communication shouldn’t creep you out at all. I swear I’m completely normal and you definitely won’t wind up on a true crime podcast entitled: Love Overboard."

Sounds like you’ve thought that through just a little too much for my personal comfort.

The comment earned him a throw pillow to his head.

Hear me out though. He wiped the beer running down his chin on the hem of his T-shirt before continuing. "You don’t need to email them. We’ll throw it up on TikTok. Tell the world what Sarah two timer did, and explain you have an extra ticket you don’t want to go to waste. In the spirit of giving offer a free trip to someone who could use some time away. You’re staying in a suite. Beds can be separated. Sure you’re sharing the room and the bathroom is smaller than a New York City closet, but for the most part you and the new Sarah Miller can exist in your own orbits."

Penn flit around my house in search of god knew what, continuing to spell out his plan while pulling books and knick knacks off my shelves.

You’ll have someone to keep you company. Maybe they’ll end up being a fun travel companion. Like you said, there will be plenty of times to check in with the office and make sure your favorite brother isn’t drowning beneath your priorities.

It was preposterous. Every sentence he spoke made it sound more ridiculous. My brain kept whispering what if, and I couldn’t help but wonder.

What happens if twenty thousand Sarah Millers reply to your post. Who is going to vet them all?

Penn’s stupid mug split into a lopsided grin. He had looks, don’t get me wrong—square jaw, well-sloped nose; the girls went wild for his smile in school. There were times though, like when he pitched life altering ideas that were questionable at best, he looked like a mischievous five year old who flushed his brothers piggy bank down the toilet. Not that I spoke from experience, of course.

"Bryce, I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t that good looking. I doubt you’ll have more than a handful of women even semi-interested. It’s worth a shot, right? Best case scenario, you find another Sarah Miller and take the vacation of a lifetime. Worst case scenario it was a nice distraction for a few weeks. Maybe you can get Dad to step in and see if he knows anyone at the cruise line to refund you the ticket cost,"

The absolute last thing I wanted to do was involve our Dad. He wasn’t a bad guy per se, but he had strong opinions about everything. I didn’t need to hear them, especially when I still felt like an exposed wire. Fuck it. I said to myself tossing back the last of my beer.

Let’s do this.

CHAPTER TWO

Iwouldn’t wallow in all the ways I’d been the opposite of lucky lately. It was too easy to dabble in thoughts of punishment for unknown wrongs, or that life was too good, so the pendulum had to swing. I didn’t want to get caught in that whirlpool. Once you trapped yourself in that kind of mindset, the only place to go was further down the drain and into the sewer.

Did it suck not having job? Of course. Was I starting to despair I would never find one again? Perhaps. My unemployment benefits ran out in two months. Then it would be time to start tapping into savings. I could always go back to waiting tables.

Maybe banking wasn’t for you, B. B as in Twin B. My sister, Felicity, older by one hour and eleven minutes, had been calling me Twin B for as long as I could remember. Without her, I wouldn’t have muddled through the last six months. Not that you aren’t good at it, mind you. You’re far too contemplative to be in a field with black and white answers. You need the expanse of big pictures. Not limited by tiny boxes.

It’s the only thing on my resume. It’s not like I can suddenly become an, I don’t know—fashion buyer—tomorrow with the list of experience I have now.

Please, she huffed a laugh, you don’t even balance your checkbook let alone keep a budget and you want to be a buyer?

She missed the point. I could have said cabinet builder. I didn’t have training or experience in anything other than banking.

"What about using that fancy music degree? Obviously, not singing specifically, but what about trying to get a job at Berklee. Maybe you could be an R.A. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about finding a new place to live."

We’d both come east for college. Me to Berklee for a music degree, her to NYU. Felicity now helped produce a topical headlines show for one of the cable stations.

Ugh. I threw my arm across my eyes. I needed to either find a new apartment in less than a month or stay and pay an extra $350 a month.

You know you’re welcome to come hang with me and Xander for a while. The guest bedroom is already set and waiting for you.

A change of location was on the list of considerations. I didn’t have the mental energy to make a pro-con list. Not that I had an inordinate amount of time to pick one of the forks in my life’s road. Either I stayed in Boston, and paid an extra $350 for my shitty fourth floor walkup in Allston, or I had to move, find something cheaper probably outside of Boston Metro, or leave the state altogether. None of them sounded fun. My preference was to stay put if at all possible. While Allston wasn’t exactly the crème de la crème of Boston locales, change seemed much less palatable.

Holy shit! Felicity’s squeal nearly adding deaf in one ear to the list of ways my life was not ideal at the moment. You will not believe what just came across my news feeds.

More than likely, it was one of the Kardashian’s announcing a pregnancy, a break up, a new boyfriend, a new mascara line, or any of the above. I still didn’t know how we shared DNA. The last things I gave two shits about were celebrities, and lifestyles of the rich and oblivious. Felicity on the other hand, lived and breathed them. Hazard of the job I guess.

Oh my god. Sera! You are not going to believe this. Turn on my station! We’re talking about it right now.

Rather than argue I tuned in to Channel 204 and watched the clip that Felicity still continued to squeal into the phone over.

"Searching for Sarah Miller. The female broadcaster exclaimed, Sarah Miller do you live in the greater Boston area? Are you totally okay with sharing a hotel with a complete stranger who may or may not be a serial killer? Well this dude on Tiktok is looking for you—but specifically not the Sarah Miller who cheated on him—to take on a trip around the world. Sound like something you’d be interested in? Don’t say we didn’t warn you. There’s an email listed in the guy’s Linktree."

I couldn’t find words. So many details converged at once. My sister chattered incessantly in my ear but nothing she said computed. What were the odds that some chump got dumped by a girlfriend with nearly the same name as me?

… I mean obviously you’d have to require a full background check, with references. Don’t worry I’d call them for you. Clearly. I have the years of news interview experience behind me. I could dig up dirt on the Pope if I had to. You’d need details on the itinerary and when you’d be checking in. Because of course you’d tell him you have family expecting you to check in at every port of call to ensure you haven’t become shark bait somewhere along the way.

I thought between the two of us, Felicity was supposed to be the levelheaded one. I was supposed to be the glitter bomb who flit from idea to idea. So why was she the one who hadn’t yet come up for air?

"Um, small problem here. Well, lots of small problems and some big ones—mainly with your judgement. But, aside from all of that. The biggest issue is that my name isn’t Sarah Miller. It’s Seraphim Miller."

Oh please.

I could picture her in her New York office, with its half a sliver of a window blocked by a Ben & Jerry’s sign. Based on the sound of her voice she was leaning back in her black ergonomic chair, her russet-colored hair probably plaited in twin French braids and collected into a bun and the base of her skull. It was her signature look. Always paired with designer jeans, a trendy top, and boots—more than likely Chanel.

One phone call to the ticket help desk gets that resolved. Blame the incompetent boyfriend, who always calls you by your nickname and forgets that your legal name isn’t Sarah. Easy fix. Done. Next objection?

I had more objections than Adele had divorce songs. I took a breath prepared to start listing them and she cut me off. Again.

"B, it’s as if the universe took a peek into the goings on, on Earth, homed in on the shit show of your life right now and said, yes, that woman needs a break. An all-expense paid trip around the world? If he were looking for a Felicity Miller, I’d have already stalked him on social, figured out his address, and made a house call. But I’ve got Xander and he’s looking for Sarah Miller not Felicity. Any objection you have, I have a counter argument, babe. I have to go; they want to do a story on this yahoo. Just email him. See what he has to say. Considering you have no job and no prospects on the horizon, there is literally no better time. Besides, think of all the people you’ll meet on that trip, that could be your ticket to your next job!"

To: BrokenHeartedBryce

From: S. Miller

Re: The TikTok Heard Around the World

Bryce,

Hi? I saw your TikTok on the news today, and despite a myriad of reservations, my twin sister all but broke my fingers forcing me to write this email. I’m sure there are a million Sarah Miller’s telling you how cool, and amazing, and generous you are and attaching duck lipped photos of them in barely there bikinis to entice you into choosing them.

I’m not really sure why I’m even sending this. Clearly, I’m insane. (That would be a metaphorical insanity, not a literal one.) I promise I’m not the type to collect your hair or stare at you while you sleep because I’m obsessed with the smell of your breath or any of the other weird shit you see on all of those Netflix documentaries. I’m a thirty-four-year-old who has reached a new level in unemployment Jumanji where I have zero fucks left to give and figure hey why not randomly email some guy offering a vacation from the reality of your life for seven months. Sign me up!

If it’s the Delta, Delta, Delta, linked arms, flat ironed hair, plastic looking Sisters for Life kind of girl who can be your latest trophy for your Instagram feed, then by all means choose one of the duck faces. My days are spent in jeans, messy buns, and Birkenstocks.

I don’t bring much to the table (I’m really selling the shit out of this application aren’t I?). I lost my job, by the time you read this I’ll probably have decided that Boston is too expensive and I’m moving in with my sister in New York (moving home to live with my parents is a level of shame I’m not yet ready to unlock). I am college educated, pretty culturally well-rounded, I can carry on fairly intelligent conversations and I do love to read—all books, any genres. And you might be entertained by a pithy comment or two.

You’re still reading this? Wow. Well, if you want to meet for coffee so I can prove I’m not serial killer and also sort of fun, feel free to email me at the above address.

~SM

CHAPTER THREE

Leave it to Penn. I was only half serious when I agreed to record that stupid TikTok. I figured it would stay on Penn’s page, our friends would have a good laugh at my expense, and that would be the end of it.

Of course, Penn was now married to one half of the hottest nationally syndicated radio show in the business, the Bear and Raven Show. For some reason I thought this stupid drunken antic between brothers would be beyond her interest for radio fodder. I assumed wrong. Not only had she taken interest in the story, but half the damn country had. I had TV and radio stations from New York, Miami, Chicago, Los Angeles, and San Francisco trying to get a hold of me to hear my story. That stupid BrokenHeartedBryce Gmail Penn created had thousands of emails on the first day alone.

Most weren’t legit. Most were random people throwing pot shots at me. They called me a loser, asked why I couldn’t satisfy my girlfriend or a dozen other insults. Others had thesis level sob stories about why they needed a vacation too and please reconsider the Sarah Miller requirement because please sir I could really use this help.

But one of them stood out like a dandelion growing in the middle of a parking lot. I have no clue how her email stuck out amid the dumpster fires. There was something about how self-deprecating she was, while also being cheeky.

She lived in Boston. What were the odds? While I’d quickly learned how common a name Sarah Miller was, the fact there could be someone else with the same name willing to meet for coffee twenty minutes from my house, still felt surprising.

I found myself in front of The Human Bean at ten sharp for a ten thirty meeting, yet she was already seated in a booth when I arrived. She looked pretty spot on to what she’d described in her email. Tan Birkenstocks, jeans, a gray Berklee College of Music T-shirt beneath a Luke’s Diner zip hoodie.

Maybe it was the way she simply existed in the space. She paid no mind to the people around her. Content to sit in the sun with no drink in front of her, tapping away on her phone as if she had not a care in the world. That had to be what I found so intriguing. So much so that I stood gaping at her from across the room, seemingly frozen where I stood.

"Looks like we were both raised with the fifteen minutes is on time, on time is unacceptable mantra. She waved to me and stood, chuckling while she did. I didn’t know what kind of drink you might want so I figured I’d wait."

It was cute she thought that I would ever feel comfortable with someone buying me a cup of coffee, but I respected her for the offer.

Bryce Ellis.

Her hand was warm and soft wrapped in my palm. It was then I noticed her nails were decorated with rainbows, unicorns, and glitter. Our eyes locked and her eyebrow raised as if she’d caught me looking at them and challenged me to make a comment. I raised my eyebrow in return though I had nothing to say. I thought they were kind of sweet.

How many Sarah’s am I competing against?

She took a seat again and dove right into the conversation with little preamble. There was something refreshing about the way she carried herself. No bullshit to cut through. No tap dancing around social graces. She was just herself.

I wouldn’t necessarily call it a competition.

I needed to do something with my hands. Sitting without any distraction was—disarming. I need to get a coffee. It has already been a hell of a morning. What would you like?

Hey! I said I was buying you a drink! She rocketed to her feet, digging through her backpack I assumed in search of her wallet.

I’m one of those obnoxious people with a super complicated coffee order. I stayed her search with a hand to her elbow. I’ll get it.

A black coffee? Yes, that is super complicated. She nodded her head towards my cup when I returned with her green tea lemonade and reclaimed my seat across from her.

As I was saying, I took a sip, ignoring her calling me out for my white lie, before continuing, I wouldn’t call it a competition. My brother convinced me to still go on this trip even though Sarah and I aren’t together anymore.

Every time I said her name my chest tightened. The cardiologist insisted I had no prescient conditions that would suggest a heart attack. I preferred my self-diagnoses to his. I suffered from a broken heart. A broken heart. Please. Was I hurt? Of course. Angry? Absolutely. Broken hearted? I couldn’t say. I don’t know if I’d ever been broken hearted before.

My sister Felicity is the one who insisted that I apply as well.

Yes, I remember. I winked at her. When had I become a winking kind of guy? But the eye roll that accompanied her huffed explanation drew the response from me without being aware I did it until after the fact. I guess we both have meddlesome siblings who think they know better.

Mentioning having siblings in common gave me a peek into who she was. She and Felicity were twins. I vaguely remembered her discussing that in her email. Felicity lived in New York. Sarah had been working in the banking industry, but banking had taken a bit of a hit recently with a lot of