“There’s a guy selling tickets at the marina next door. I’ll go buy a couple.”

“I’ll be along in a minute.” Reid returned his attention to the television, where Tim McGraw and Faith Hill were announcing the nominees for song of the year.

“And the award goes to…” Tim handed the card to his wife.

“Kate Harrington for ‘I Thought I Knew.’”

Reid watched Kate make her way to the stage to accept her second award of the evening. She hugged Tim and Faith, and turned to absorb the audience’s thundering applause.

“Thank you,” she said when the applause finally died down. “‘I Thought I Knew’ is a song that’s very close to my heart, and I’m so grateful for this award. I wrote this song at a special time in my life, a time I’ll never forget. Just like I’ll never forget this night. Thank you all so much.”

Half a world away, Reid raised his drink in silent tribute to the girl he loved.

The story continues in Starting Over, which begins on Brandon O’Malley’s first day of alcohol rehab. Follow Brandon’s journey as he picks up the pieces of his shattered life and finds two new loves who give him a reason to stay sober.

Starting Over

Chapter 1, Day 1

Brandon O’Malley lay on the narrow bed, counting the cinderblocks that made up the sterile room. Ten up and twenty across, painted a boring, flat shade of tan. In addition to the bed, he had a beat-up dresser and a tiny bathroom adjoining the room. A small window overlooked the parking lot of the Laurel Lake Treatment Center, home sweet home for the next thirty days.

When his brother Colin brought him here two hours earlier, Brandon commented that the place looked more like a country club than a dry-out facility.

“It’s not a country club,” Colin had snapped. “The place costs a fortune, so don’t forget why you’re here.”

Leave it to oh-so-perfect Colin to cut him down to size. He was sick to death of all three of his brothers and the way they talked down to him just because he liked to get loaded every now and then. Brandon touched the bridge of his nose, tender since his older brother Aidan’s fist connected with it the night before.

To hell with them, he thought as a vicious burst of pain from his battered face stole the breath from his lungs. They don’t understand me. None of them ever has.

Brandon checked his watch. After the most thorough physical of his life, he’d been brought to this boring room and told someone would come to see him in half an hour. That was forty-five minutes ago.