One Year Past Perfect

One Year Past Perfect

by Kay Layton Sisk
One Year Past Perfect

One Year Past Perfect

by Kay Layton Sisk


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Dr. Katti Thompson arrives in Honolulu to not only settle her great-aunt's estate but also to find the older woman's scandalous diary. If there are family secrets hidden within, Katti wants to read them while sitting on the deck of the beach house she's inherited. But when she arrives, she finds the house occupied by three handsome Latin men--and they are reading the diary. The solution is obvious: Katti moves in as the new housekeeper. Widower Cesar Osorio has risen from valet's son on a Costa Rican coffee plantation to international fame as a singer and performer. His albums have sold millions but he wants this hotel gig to be his last. Now he just has to find the nerve to tell his brother-in-law and manager. It would help if his attention wasn't diverted by the new housekeeper who acts like she owns the place. One may be too old, one may be too young, but the one with the sad smile... he might be just right, even if, at thirty-six, Katti is one year past perfect.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781515023340
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date: 06/28/2015
Pages: 436
Product dimensions: 5.24(w) x 7.99(h) x 0.89(d)

About the Author

Native Texan Kay Layton Sisk began writing books in third grade featuring such wonderful creatures as The Rainbow Monster. That may be hidden deep in the closet with the television fanfic she didn't know she was writing throughout high school. Then life took over and didn't release her to write again until staring at a computer screen resulted in more words than numbers.

Today she makes her home with one husband and four demanding cats. Writing romance fills the hours between feedings!

You may follow her at, (Sisker's Lair), kaylaytonsiskauthor on FaceBook, or on Pinterest at

Read an Excerpt

She studied Cesar's back, the curve of his strong neck as he leaned into the guitar. The moonlight cast his shadow behind him and gave what she could see of his face an other-worldly glow. The man could be magic and she hoped he didn't make a habit of playing nightly in the moonlight, of tempting the angels.

Tempting her to walk out there and sit at his feet and watch his hands and wish they caressed her the way they caressed the strings, hold her the way they held the neck of the guitar and curled and touched. She watched his hands slide, chord, hold, tremble, and she shivered even as she made herself smaller in the chair. The vibration she heard as he began to hum along with the tune felt like it began in her.

Oh, damn! These wayward thoughts about her tenant/employer had to stop. She had no claim on these ideas. They were idle, useless, filtering in from nowhere and they had no home in her psyche. She had no need of a man, any man, especially not one that thought her the maid, the cook, the laundress. And that was what she would have to be. Invisibly be.

So surely he didn't do this every night when he came home.

He turned and looked her direction, although she knew she was hidden from his gaze in the shadows. His eyes studied the living room and his brows drew together. He pursed his lips.

Oh, please, God, surely he did.

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