A quaint Irish village, a klutzy Dublin single mum, and a handsome former flame...

In this charming romantic comedy, twenty-six-year-old Aislin Moore is at a crossroads: a lot of her life needs improvement, but what she really needs is a father. Not for herself, mind, but for her young son, daddy-hungry Kevin—she's determined to succeed at motherhood, if nothing else. So Aislin follows the mad impulse to track down the perfect father-figure for her little boy.

Ben Carpenter is a terrific friend...and her first love. He's also great father material—and is absolutely mad about Kevin. Still, commitment-shy Aislin is determined to keep things platonic, especially given their big blow-up years ago. Yet, as her best friend Deirdre points out, Aislin has a way of mucking up her most inspired plans.

Tucked away in Ben's cozy manor house in County Galway, Kevin in tow, Aislin is sure she's not ready to risk her heart again. But when a family event turns her future upside down, she embarks on a life-changing journey with unexpected consequences. In this heartfelt novel about second chances and forgiveness, will Aislin get the fairy-tale ending she's dreamed of?

Here's a brief excerpt!

Chapter One—The Sign

The urge to contact an old boyfriend should be approached with extreme caution, I always say. Even if you've excellent reasons, any impulse with such potential for disaster on a grand scale should be either squashed immediately, or given due consideration: i.e., discussed exhaustively with your friends, whom you have bribed with cheap wine and equally cheap Cadbury's to listen to you, and for your trouble, will give you their expert counsel.

In case the confab with friends regarding the ex inspires an uncharacteristic impulse to take action—Saturday night's strategy session with Deirdre and Maggie ended with a rash, midnight phone call to America—you'll want to be on the lookout for signs and portents that you're on the right track.

I was saying exactly that to Deirdre six days later, in the back room of her mam's shop, O'Donnell's Books & Collectibles. "Though I was sure I'd get a sign before now. Especially here."

After all, you'd think a shop stuffed with fairy-themed merchandise—that's Irish fairies, mind—in tourist-jammed Temple Bar, smack in the middle of Dublin, Ireland, which is home to spiritual icons galore, would be a magnet for messages from the Other Side, the far corners of the world, or the Infinite.

"Signs," scoffed Deirdre. As my fellow shop assistant, she could've been helping me sort through the tatty leftovers from her mam's parish jumble sale, but she was busy Web surfing. "Maybe you're meant to watch for the one saying the call was a waste of time."

"No way," I said, though I was starting to wonder. While I hardly expected a metaphysical memo to waft in, such as, Attn.: Aislin Moore, Congrats on the genius phone call, surely a teensy insight into my next move wasn't too much to ask? I gazed balefully at yet another overflowing box, perched on a high shelf. "One more box to go. And the dustiest of the lot."

"Sling it 'til Monday," Deirdre said, clicking madly. "Mammy'll never know."

I sneezed. "I'm for that." I swiped my hands on my jumper, then made the mistake of glancing at the box again. It seemed to droop toward me reproachfully. "Shag it all," I muttered. On tiptoe, I grabbed one corner of the box and jerked it forward. "As if this crusty junk is worth anyth—" I yelped as something thunked me on the head and fell to the floor.

"What?" said Deirdre, eyes glued to the screen.

Rubbing the sore spot, I...