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At First Sight
Tamara Sneed
MILLS & BOON
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This book is dedicated to all the sisters out there.
A sister is your best friend, your confidante, your
toughest critic, your strongest ally and your loudest
cheerleader. She can work your nerve like no one
else, but, when the chips are down, she alone has
your back without question or pause.
To my sister, Alyson, I love you!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always I must thank my mother, Patricia Sneed, my sister, Alyson Turner, and my two delightful nieces, Lauren and Erin, for their unwavering support in all I do. Whether I accomplish it or not, they are there for me. I also must thank my good friend and fellow writer, Reon Laudat, for always being a calm port in the unpredictable storm that is the publishing industry. In addition, I have to give a shout-out to my agent, Paige Wheeler, whose excitement for this business makes me excited. And, lastly, I must thank Mavis Allen and all the other folks at Kimani Press, who are keeping African-American romance fiction alive.
Contents
Chapter 1
“Grandpa Max is trying to punish us from beyond the grave, isn’t he?” Quinn Sibley wailed, as she stared at the dilapidated house standing—just barely—in front of her.
Charlie Sibley pulled a bulging black suitcase from the trunk of the silver Jaguar that their older sister, Kendra, had haphazardly parked next to the house, and dropped it on the ground. Dirt billowed around it. She frowned. There was dirt everywhere. Charlie was far from a neat freak, but from the two-lane highway that had branched off the main highway to the small town of Sibleyville, California, to the narrow dirt road that had led to the house, there had been dirt. On the sides of the road, on the road, flying in her mouth when Kendra had allowed her to roll down the window. There was no escaping it.
But, besides the dirt, Charlie had more important things on her mind, like finding her emergency bag of chocolate amidst her sisters’ designer suitcases jamming the trunk. Charlie needed that bag. It housed her entire two-week supply of chocolate. And if ever there was a time for chocolate, it was now.
“Have you seen my duffel bag?” she asked Quinn absently. “It’s small and dark blue—”
“Look at it, Charlie,” Quinn ordered, sounding close to tears. “Look at where we’re supposed to live for the next two weeks and tell me that this isn’t some form of punishment. Grandpa Max’s last attempt to make us suffer.”
Charlie
