Bee Keeping

Poppy did the brave thing by walking away from the married baker—but there’s no gold star for NOT committing adultery—no matter how heartbroken.

Life keeps getting in the way of Poppy’s pity party. Still…she has this nagging feeling that maybe her life isn’t completely over.

Michael has other problems, mainly keeping his mind off Poppy. He’s juggling the bakery, his daughter, and keeping his wife at arm’s length.

Demolishing his life in order to build a new one seems insane. Is she worth it?

Will Poppy and Michael go their separate ways, or will they be keeping each other for better or worse?

If you can relate to the 'it's complicated' relationship status, then you’ll love Bee Keeping.

Get it now.

This is the second novel in the Bee Stings Series.

It can be read as a standalone, but it's best read in the context of the series.

As I step outside, a ray of sun breaks through the clouds and lights the path ahead of me. Then my phone starts vibrating deep within the recesses of my purse.
“Crap,” I mutter, reaching inside the bag, grasping every single object but the one I need. Finally my fingers close around the phone as it emits one last dying buzz.
“You've got to be kidding me,” I shout, throwing the phone as hard as I can into the middle of the parking lot, narrowly missing a luxury convertible.
“Seriously? After confessing and pledging to be good, you couldn’t disable him from calling me? Give me a break!” I yell skyward. People are staring as they exit the church, but I don’t care and continue my tirade all the way to my car.

***
I waltz up to Anne Marie's door forty-five minutes later than expected and jauntily knock on her door.
“Where have you been?” Anne Marie says. “I’ve been calling you.”
I hold up the new cell phone box and step inside.
“Bravo! What prompted your decision for a new phone?” she asks, closing the door behind me.
I toss a plastic bag containing the remains of my old phone at her and plop onto the bed.
She dumps its contents out next to me. “What happened?”
“I threw it across a parking lot and then ran it over with my car, a few times,” I confess. Normally, she’s the one throwing diva fits in public. “Lend me your phone, so I can get everyone's number.”
“Only if I can have this,” she says, sweeping her hand over the bits of cell phone on her comforter.
“Knock yourself out. Why?”
“I want to use it in some mixed media, real angst on the canvas. This was over...him?” She asks, cautiously.
“Yep. He called again, and I just got a little crazy.”
“So you changed your number and got a new phone. I’m proud of you.”
“Who said anything about changing numbers? I still have the same one.”
“Congratulations, you’re still in denial and not making any effort to move on,” she replies, gathering the cell phone bits back into the bag.
“Shut up and help me pick a new ringtone.”
“How about Crazy?” she calls from the kitchen.
I just roll my eyes and scroll through the seemingly endless ringtone choices: Crazy, Cryin’, Crying. Ah ha, perfect, I think, selecting my new tone. “How about this?” I say triumphantly holding the phone high over my head as Roy Orbison’s ‘Crying’ blasts through the speaker. His voice is full of sorrow, but tin-like through the phone's speaker.
“Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘misery loves company’?”
“Have you ever heard the word cliché,” I reply, sticking my tongue out. “Now I just need a name for you,” I say, cooing to the phone.
“How about dysfunctional coping mechanism?”
I ignore her snide comment.
“It’s just so cute and little. It's like a little, I don’t know, a cricket or something.” I smile, remembering Kendall and her Chrypy die-cut machine. “That’s it. You shall henceforth be known as Cricky.” I laugh.
“All righty then. Now that you’ve completely lost your mind, can we go? We’ll have to skip lunch, but I think we can make the first appointment.”
I had hoped my lateness would mean we wouldn't have to go through this grueling ritual.
“Can you please be in a better mood? It’s not the worst thing in the world.”
"That’s what you think."
I can tell my dark mood is putting a damper on Anne Marie’s wedding planning bliss, but I haven't been able to shake it since I watched Michael drive away that night. This is the hardest thing I‘ve ever gone through. I‘m not sure I can handle wedding bliss at the moment.
Besides, going bridesmaid dress shopping heartbroken is so unfair, not to mention it’s hideously boring. Who ever invented shopping for clothes you don’t get to choose? I’m just a glorified mannequin. Then again, she is my best friend. The pleading look on her face is enough coaxing for me to swallow my pain.
“I am so honored to be your maid of honor, and I will put aside all my stuff to make sure you have a great wedding.” The words echo around my loneliness.