Excerpt from Those Pink Mountain Nights by Jen Ferguson, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

And those glasses suited her. Terribly. His favorite color. Coke red, studded with diamonds. Or probably more like Swarovski crystals, the kind his littlest sister, Sami, wouldn't stop talking about wanting for her regalia. Just last week, he and his twelveyear- old twin sisters, Tanya and Callie, had caught Sami playing with her favorite stuffed toy—the buffalo Cam gifted her when she was born—telling it about how good those crystals shined when a dancer moved.

Everyone assumed because of Sami's Down syndrome she wouldn't be a strong dancer. But that was garbage. Like one thing had anything to do with the other.

Across the prep room, Berlin muttered to herself, "These aren't clean."

While she spoke truth about the aprons, Cam knew it was a dig at him too. He shouldn't rile her but couldn't help himself. "You complaining?"

"Yes, I am. These are ... unpleasantly sticky."

He had to know: "Is there a good kind of sticky?"

She froze. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Like her programming needed a second to catch up. "I am not answering that."

"It isn't a trick question."

But with a flutter of her hand as a dismissal, she was already ignoring him again, aggressively brushing flour from herself, drawing his attention back to how she was short and curvy, and to the very dirty apron with the PMP logo in electric pinks, yellows, and oranges—exactly like the neon sign out front.

Sometimes the laundry didn't get done. Either things were too busy, or Joe, PMP's infamous owner, would be in one of those moods, quit doing business in the office, and tell stories about his early days in town—what it was like being one of the first Black businessmen in Canmore. Or ask questions about Cam's family, the kind that gave a guy the sense that someone really cared to know. The way that Joe had been there for them after—

The door alert went off again and the new girl walked in. Jessie Hampton lingered by the exit, fidgeting with the hem of her Canada Goose jacket. "Hi. I'm looking for Joe ..."

Break was officially done.

Cam sighed in his head so as not to give Berlin additional ammunition. He didn't believe she'd drawn blood last year on purpose. And the kindergarten incident was past, not present. Still, he'd protect himself.

"Joe's not here on weekends." Berlin pointed to the tight-squeeze hallway that led to the washroom. "Grab an apron and hang your stuff up. Yeah, on the hooks. I'll orientate you as soon as you're ready." Jessie stepped one foot farther into the store. "He made it seem like he'd be here ... at my interview. I mean the tryout."

The Hampton family owned half of town and a mountain with five chairlifts in the national park. Jessie was rich enough she didn't need a job, rich enough she could tame that hair if she wanted to. At a salon. With those good chemicals. Laughing quietly to himself, Cam choked on the last sip of Coke.

Berlin stared.

He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his fitted Star Wars T-shirt. Would she say something about it not being clean either? The shirt wasn't. Not after a day's hard work. Even covered in the dregs, Rose Tico was powerful.

The new girl's eyes buzzed between him and Berlin. It was obvious Jessie Hampton was out of her element.

This wasn't the high school. It was so much better.

"Joe's gone." Berlin spoke like that was that and there was nothing else to say.

Her tone majorly bummed Cam out.

So he smiled. Yeah, it wasn't his job to train new staff. It was his job to do the laundry. But he could offer a friendly assist. "Boss left midday, like he usually does to kick off the weekend. Heads up to his cabin. It's nothing personal."

Jessie nodded.

In truth, Cam kind of liked laundry. It was a peaceful task. Warm, smelled good, made his insides want to curl up under a wool blanket with Sami's in-progress regalia. With their mom in Calgary, getting her BA and sleeping on a friend's couch all week, Cam was doing close to everything at home. He was the eldest, with three siblings who depended on him. And everyone in the house knew their dad was a little lost right now. Now a lost taxi driver ... That was a lark!

Excerpted from Those Pink Mountain Nights by Niall Ferguson. Copyright © 2023 by Niall Ferguson. Excerpted by permission of Heartdrum. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.