Resourceful
Kari Lee Harmon
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, Kari Lee Townsend, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © Kari Lee Townsend
Cover art by Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs
Published by Oliver-Heber Books
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Contents
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
Books By Kari Lee Townsend
Books By Kari Lee Harmon
About the Author
This book is dedicated to my mother, Marion Harmon, my sister, Debbie Russo, and my daughter, Emily Townsend. Three generations of a special bond that only exists between mothers, sisters, and daughters. I am so blessed and grateful to still have all of mine.
Chapter One
re·source·ful
ADJECTIVE
Having the ability to find quick and clever ways to overcome difficulties.
“The legend of the tattooed clover?” I asked above the slow, crooning Irish singer in the corner, and spilled my martini in the process.
My best friends and I sat at a wooden table by the crackling fire in the back of McGinny’s Pub, celebrating. The Irish bar was a favorite of ours. The conversation this evening had turned interesting, to say the least, just as I had hoped.
Only, I had to have heard Harm wrong….
“You heard me right, Tiffany.” Harmony Jones chuckled as though she’d read my mind and then chugged her beer.
I eyed her skeptically. Harm lived to shock people—hence her red spiky hair, body piercings, and voodoo hobby—so when she talked, we took what she had to say with a grain of salt.
“I’m serious this time. Some woman came into my shop this morning, asking about all my New Age stuff. We started talking, and she filled me in on this juicy rumor.” Harm paused as she met each of our eyes in turn. “I repeat. Any of you babes heard about the legend of the tattooed clover penis, or what?”
I wiped up the martini drops with a cocktail napkin, and a smile crept across my face. The girls had come through for me again. This was exactly what I needed tonight. Something outrageous enough to keep me from freaking out over getting old.
I abhorred change.
Zoe Robinson choked on her chardonnay. “Good Lord in Heaven, no,” she chimed in after regaining her breath, her caramel curls bouncing off her shoulders and her amber eyes an inch wide.
