Here With Me (Adair Family #1) by Samantha Young


Here With Me has been several years in the making. The Adair siblings came to me not long after the On Dublin Street series finished, but it seemed it wasn’t our time back then. However, the Adairs never left me, demanding that I introduce them to my readers. When the time finally came, I can say with utmost honesty that Lachlan Adair and Robyn Penhaligon swept me into their fictional lives and didn’t let go long after I wrote the last word of their book. Living in Ardnoch with them has been a beautiful escape from a difficult year, and I hope it provides a wonderful escape for my readers too.

For the most part, writing is a solitary endeavor, but publishing most certainly is not. I have to thank my wonderful editor Jennifer Sommersby Young for always, always being there to help make me a better writer and storyteller.

And thank you to my bestie and PA extraordinaire Ashleen Walker for handling all the little things and supporting me through everything. I appreciate you so much. Love you lots!

The life of a writer doesn’t stop with the book. Our job expands beyond the written word to marketing, advertising, graphic design, social media management, and more. Help from those in the know goes a long way. A huge thank-you to Nina Grinstead at Valentine PR for brainstorming with me, for your encouragement, your insight, and for going above and beyond. You’re amazing, and I’m so grateful for you.

Thank you to every single blogger, Instagrammer, and book lover who has helped spread the word about my books. You all are appreciated so much! On that note, a massive thank-you to all the fantastic readers in my private Facebook group, Sam’s Clan McBookish. You’re truly special and the loveliest readers a girl could ask for! <3

A massive thank-you to Hang Le for once again creating a stunning cover that establishes the perfect visual atmosphere for this story.

As always, thank you to my agent Lauren Abramo for making it possible for readers all over the world to find my words. You’re phenomenal, and I’m truly grateful for all you do.

A huge thank-you to my family and friends for always supporting and encouraging me. In particular, a heartfelt thank-you to my dad. Writing Robyn’s emotional story with her father reminded me how lucky I am to have a dad who always prioritizes me, is always there for me, and is one of the most honorable, trustworthy people I know. I’m so grateful you’re my dad.

Finally, to you, thank you for reading. It means the world.

For Dad,

Not a day goes by that I don’t feel proud and grateful to be your daughter.

I love you to the moon and back.



One year ago

Boston, Massachusetts

The rain lashed our patrol car as we sipped our coffees, waiting for a crackle on the radio.

I was enjoying the peaceful lull created by the sounds of raindrops on metal when a pop of color in the overwhelming gray beyond my window caught my attention.

On the sidewalk, a woman in a navy coat, one hand holding a black umbrella, the other a leash, was halted by the dog on the end of it. From here, it looked like a Lab. The dog wore a bright red raincoat. And he’d sat his ass down on the sidewalk as if to say, “I’m done with this shit. Make it stop.”

I laughed under my breath as the woman gesticulated wildly, as if to reply, “What the hell do you want me to do about it?”

Her arms thrown wide, head bent toward the dog staring back up at her, became a snapshot in my head. I wished I had my camera. I’d use a wide aperture and my 150mm lens to blur out the gray, movement-filled background and focus on the woman and her stubborn dog.

“Jaz thinks you should dump Mark.” My partner, Autry Davis, yanked me out of the mental photography processing in my head.

Smirking at the comment, I ignored the uneasiness that accompanied it. “Oh, Jaz thinks that?”

Jasmine “Jaz” Davis was pretty outspoken, but Autry had made it clear he didn’t like my boyfriend Mark from the moment he’d met him.

“Sure does.” Autry stared out the window at the passing traffic. We were parked on Maverick Square in East Boston, near a bakery we both liked. They did good coffees. And Boston creams. Not that we were trying to live up to the cop cliché. We allowed ourselves a Boston cream once a week. It was our treat. “She thinks he thinks what he does is more important than what you do and that he never prioritizes you.”

That did sound like something Jaz would say.