When Love Hits You

By Mary Fenney

From Mary Fenney comes a found family, single dad romantic comedy. 

Maggie uprooted her entire life and moved up north for work. Desperately trying to get things figured out, she's frazzled. When her dog decides chaos was his middle name, she never figured she'd be the one behind the wheel hearing a thump…

Scott only had one goal: To get to the pharmacy to pick up his sick daughter's meds. Being a single father of three was hard. Having his youngest sick again…yeah. That's rough. 

But not as rough as accidentally getting hit by a car and busting his shoulder. Sigh. The day can only get better from there, right? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Fenney
• Release date: Apr 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215569054

Book preview

Chapter One

Dammit, Jake, what’d you get into now?

Maggie Morgan dug her keys out of her purse while trying to shuffle her bag onto her back. Through the small window in the back door, she could see a kitchen chair was knocked over and she could hear her dog barking.

When she finally got the door unlocked, she pushed, only to find it wouldn’t budge. Fucking great, she huffed.

Jake’s muffled bark echoed through the house. Maggie knew what was coming next. The signs were always the same. Her boxer mix managed to get himself trapped again, and he was letting everyone know how he felt about it.

Hold your horses, buddy, I’m coming. She pushed the door harder with her wide hips, but she could only nudge it open a few inches.

"Ja-ake! This dog is gonna be the death of me."

Maggie ran around the house to the front door. She let herself in, dropped her bag, and began searching for him.

Just as she expected, she found him in the small bathroom off the kitchen. When his eyes met hers, his body twitched with excitement.

Come on, Jake. How’d you get stuck in there in the first place? Maggie glared at him.

As if he was trying to answer, her dog ran in a tight circle and jumped on her.

What’s wrong with you? She glanced down the short hallway. The hell? You got into the trash too?

Maggie attempted to pick up the bits and pieces of unidentified items off the floor while her dog followed her, bumping into her every time she stopped. What? You can’t just stop at being a Trash Panda, now you want to play bumper cars?

She made her way into the kitchen where she found the reason the door wouldn’t open. Jake had knocked over the trash can and wedged the kitchen chair firmly against it. Everything she’d left on the table was scattered all over the floor.

Let me take a guess. You’re mad because you didn’t have enough playtime with Emma and the boys today? Maggie pulled out her phone and saw a missed text message from her normally reliable dog walker. Shit.

Emma: Buster learned he can’t make friends with a fox today. Have to take him to the vet for a rabies booster and stitches. Tell Jake I’m sorry and I’ll bring him extra treats tomorrow.

Maggie looked down at her dog, who was jumping around and bolting back and forth.

Just my luck. Work was hell and you’re out of control.

Okay, that explains it. Let's get this cleaned up, and I’ll take you out for a bit. She moved the chair back to the table and set the can upright.

Jake sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, his tail sweeping her mail back and forth as he waited. You’re not helping, you know, Maggie teased. He tilted his head to the side and watched as she bent down to pick up the rest of the trash. He got up and followed her every move, sniffing the floor. His tail whipped around, snapping against anything in its way, including her.

"Well, at least you didn’t eat everything in the trash." Maggie rolled her eyes at the banana peels and orange rinds left untouched before she grabbed the broom. Within a few minutes, her kitchen was back in order.

Jake howled with excitement and thumped his tail again.

I get it, Jake. She spotted his leash beside the door. Wanna go to the park?

He reared up and slammed his front paws down, pouncing at her legs. Maggie barely avoided him and lifted the leash off the hook, triggering Jake’s frantic, happy dance spin.

Stop it or we’re not going. Maggie laughed at his antics.

She reached down to grab his collar, but he took off running down the hallway, breaking free of her grasp.

"Jesus, you’re nothing but an overgrown toddler."

Jake lumbered back and jumped again, nearly knocking Maggie off balance. She twisted to the side and blocked his paws with her knee. She got his leash clipped, and once outside, he pulled furiously toward her car until something darted in their direction.

Come on, Jake. Let’s go to the dog park. Maggie tugged on his leash to get his attention away from the overweight, orange tabby cat standing in the middle of the sidewalk, challenging him.

He pulled harder toward the hissing feline.

I’d hiss at you too, you frigging crazy thing. Through gritted teeth, she grunted, Leave it. Jake finally relented, his tail swinging from side to side as he pranced alongside her.

Maggie opened the back door of her Jeep, and he scrambled inside. She reached for the seatbelt and fed the strap through the leash grip, while Jake covered her face with slobbery kisses. She pushed him away, her hands fumbling to find the latch.

I love you too, but I need to get you buckled. Remember? You’re not the best passenger. She swung her head to the side to avoid his long, pink tongue.

You need a mint. Your breath stinks.

Jake happily lapped her cheek and any other fleshy surface he could find. She heard a muffled click and with an exasperated sigh, she released the leash and leaned against the driver’s seat.

You really are a good boy. I still can’t figure out why anyone would dump you at a shelter, she whispered to the muscular beast sitting patiently, his tongue lolling happily as he waited for her. She reached up and stroked his favorite spot, the white markings on his chest. Almost immediately, he rolled onto his back, his white paws flailing lazily in the air.

I know, that’s the spot. Maggie rubbed his exposed belly and laughed as he closed his eyes, his mouth hanging open. You’re such a nut. She tapped his chest one last time before she closed the door.

She slipped into the front seat and cranked the engine. The music from the radio blared loudly, startling Jake. He sounded his dislike from his reclined position with one deep bark. Maggie spun the dial to the left, the sound quickly diminishing to a comfortable volume.

"I know, I know, 80s rock isn’t your favorite. But I had a bad day at work today. Not that you care or even understand what it means. This music makes me happy. Just like playing at the dog park makes you happy."

Maggie buckled her seatbelt and shifted her car into reverse when he huffed impatiently. Now you’re going to complain we’re not moving fast enough? I’m going, I’m going.

Several minutes later, Maggie was leaning on her elbow. Every window was wide open and her chestnut curls blew around her face. She inhaled deeply and despite her tough day, felt relaxed in the fall air.

The leaves on the trees whipping past were beginning to change in the small northern town she moved to six months ago. It was the first time she experienced autumn weather and she was loving it. Jake’s head hung out the window, his ears flapping in the wind, without a care in the world.

As Maggie approached the center of town, something suddenly got her dog’s attention. He barked furiously as he scrambled from one side of the car to the other.

Chill out. We’re almost there. Just a few more minutes.

Jake paced in the back seat.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder to see what he was barking at.

Without warning, the boxer lunged into the front seat, his seatbelt releasing with a jerk.

Jake, no! Maggie tried to push him off her lap.

A second later, she noticed the pickup truck in front of her was stopped. She slammed on her brakes and jerked the wheel to the right to avoid hitting the tailgate. Just when she thought was in the clear her Jeep came to an abrupt stop, but not before she felt a sickening thud, followed by a roar of pain.

Chapter Two

THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER

Scott Connolly thanked his neighbor. Mrs. Fielder, I don’t know what we’d do without you. He steered his eleven-year-old son, Jamie, down the walkway after she closed the door. Listen, I have to go back to the pharmacy to get Rylie’s prescription, so I’m going to trust you and Taylor not to fight while I’m gone. I didn’t want to ask Mrs. Fielder to keep you any longer.

I’m not a baby, Dad. I could’ve stayed by myself ‘til Taylor got home, Jamie grumbled, shaking his father’s hand off his shoulder.

Yeah, playing those video games I don’t like, I’m sure. Scott looked down at Jamie’s overstuffed backpack. Did you do any homework, at least?

"Yes, Daddy, and Mrs. Fielder gave me cookies and milk too," he retorted in a high, falsetto voice.

Scott gave his son a flick on the back of the head as a warning.

Sorry. Jamie rubbed his head. I finished math and science, and I started taking notes on the chapter of US history for our test at the end of the week. Happy? He slumped his thin shoulders and studied the ground as they walked the last few steps to their own house.

I shouldn’t be gone for more than an hour, tops, Scott continued to ignore his son’s attitude. I’m just going to ride my bike down there and back. If Mrs. Fielder didn’t have to pick up Kara at the station, I would’ve waited for Rylie’s meds, but you know how she gets.

Oh my God, she’s the worst. Remember that day? You know, when we had the storm and there was a big branch over the power lines on the street and she was crying, ‘It’s awful. I can’t dry my hair and it’s going to be all frizzy.’ Jamie mimicked their neighbor with a comical tone.

Scott ruffled his son’s thick, unruly, dark hair and unlocked the door. That’s all she talked about for weeks. Or what about the time you and your friend had a water balloon fight and one went over the fence?

Splat, all over her. Jamie laughed louder. Hey, Tay, we’re home.

Oh great, Brace-face is back, Taylor called from the family room.

Whatever. Jamie headed up the stairs as Scott found six-year-old Rylie curled up under a blanket, her head in her fourteen-year-old sister’s lap.

I just gave her some more Motrin. She feels hot again. Taylor nudged the box of chewables with her sneaker-covered toe. We need more.

Scott knelt beside the couch and brushed the dark brown strands of hair off Rylie’s face. Hey, baby girl. Daddy’s going to go back to the store to get your medicine, okay? Watery blue eyes blinked her response as they closed. She snuggled down against her sister once more without a sound. Scott stood slowly and leaned forward to give Taylor a kiss on her forehead.

Gross, Dad. Ugh, she blurted out and turned her head away. She swiped her hand across her freckled skin, smoothing back the loose strands of blonde hair that’d snuck out of the braid she was wearing. Scott stepped around the couch and shrugged his shoulders. From behind him, he heard her whisper, I love you, Dad.

I love you too, Tay, Scott whispered back. He cleared his throat and in a louder voice, explained, I should only be gone about an hour. The doctor said it was just an ear infection again. I would’ve waited for Ry’s antibiotics, but Mrs. Fielder needed her car. I’ll take my bike and then I’ll get dinner started when I get back.

I already put a frozen lasagna in the oven. It should be done about the same time you get back.

Scott turned back to see Taylor stroking Rylie’s hair as the small child slipped into sleep. I know I don’t say it enough, but thanks, Tay. You’re a big help. You always have been.

Without waiting for the reply he knew wouldn’t come, Scott headed outside to the garage where his ten-year-old Ford Escape sat. Two more weeks. Two more weeks and I’ll have enough money saved to get you fixed, he stated softly as he patted the hood. He pulled his helmet off the shelf, secured it on his head, and grabbed the handlebars of his bike.

Scott swung his long leg over the seat and pedaled down the short driveway to the street. He took a cursory glance to his left and, seeing nothing but an empty street, he pedaled faster.

Within minutes, he was cruising along Main Street with the late afternoon traffic. As he approached the pharmacy, he carefully scanned the line of cars for any kind of break. Seeing none, he put his foot down and waited. He heard a dog barking and noticed a pickup truck and another car come to a stop. The driver of the truck waved to him, so he pedaled slowly across. He didn’t see the Jeep swerve. He only heard the screech of tires just before he was thrown off his bike.

Chapter Three

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Maggie fought to release her seatbelt, but it was locked in place, holding her back. What the hell. Stupid seatbelt. Let go.

She slapped at the buckle several times until she finally depressed the button long enough for it to snap loose. She scrambled out of her Jeep and immediately panicked when she saw a man on the ground, his bike twisted and bent. Are you… are you okay?

What the hell happened? the man snapped.

The driver of the truck suddenly materialized beside them. Shit, lady, I’ll call 9-1-1. He disappeared just as quickly as he appeared, leaving Maggie staring at the man.

She looked at her car, then back at him. My dog. He jumped in the front seat. I tried to push him back, but then I didn’t see the truck stop.

Why the hell would you let him jump in the front seat?

"I didn’t let him. He was buckled in. I don’t know what happened. When I saw the truck, I thought I was going to hit it, so I swerved, and I thought I was okay. I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry." Stay calm, just stay calm. He’s awake and breathing. He should be okay. I hope.

The man moaned as he shifted and exhaled loudly. Fuck.

Remembering what little she knew about first aid, Maggie instructed, "Don’t get up. You might be in shock. You could be hurt worse than you know. What if you go into shock and the police aren’t here yet?