Spotlight & Giveaway: Just Our Luck by Denise Williams

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Denise Williams to HJ!

Hi Denise and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Just Our Luck!

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

From fake dating to a grumpy/sunshine pairing, Just Our Luck is about getting everything you need to change yourself for the better, only to find the person who makes you see you were perfect all along.

Sybil Sweet is often described as a mess—she can’t hold down a job, feels like the Black sheep of her family, has had horrible luck with men, and has moved back home with her parents. When she buys a lottery ticket, then leaves it behind after a running out following a hookup with a donut store owner, it feels in character and she is certain, there’s nothing she could do to improve how her family views her.
Kieran Anderson could best be described as an achiever. He was top of his class in medical school when his grandfather’s hospitalization forced him to come home and run the family business. Every day feels more and more hopeless as the family sinks deeper into dept. But Sybil is a bright spot…until she runs out, leaving the lottery ticket behind with “Thanks for the O” scribbled on it.

$250 million dollars could change Kieran’s life, but he insists on the ticket going to its rightful owner. A social media appeal brings Sybil in along with a wave of good publicity for the shop. With an opportunity to get his family out of debt and return to medical school, Kieran agrees to a fake dating scheme with Sybil. With a serious, smart, business owner on her arm, Sybil is certain she can show her family she’s making the right choices (maybe without mentioning the donut shop hookup!). Kieran hates the spotlight, but sees the good business this story is generating for the shop.

What they didn’t plan on was falling in love.
 

Please share your favorite line(s) or quote from this book:

“You’re the perfect version of you and you are perfect to me.” This is said by grumpy Kieran to Sybil and I love this line so much because of what it means to her, both for him show the softness and care to say it, and for someone who she believes has so much of his life planned out to see perfection in her. There are many funny lines and scenes in the book I love, but I always come back to this one.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• A few years ago, a friend shared a meme that said something like “I don’t need men; I just need 10 million and a donut.” I immediately told them that would be a great setup for a romance and the idea lived rent-free in my head until I was able to write this book.
• My working title was initially $10 Million and a Donut (though, of course I always toyed with Glazed Holes—referring to donut holes, of course!). Just Our Luck has been the title for so long that I can’t think of the book without that title along with the incredible cover art by Liz Parkes.
• When I was drafting this book, I bought a donut and lottery ticket every week. I don’t usually pay the lottery but it felt silly to write about a winner and not tempt fate for myself. Honestly, the donuts paid off better than the lottery tickets!

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

Kieran is immediately attracted to Sybil’s energy and light—on their first meeting, he notices she’s beautiful but it’s her smile he can’t look away from and that piece of her personality is what he continues to fall in love with. Sybil is also immediately attracted to Kieran—he’s handsome, has nice arms, and plies her with carbs! What she senses in him that she grows to love throughout the book is his secret, vulnerable side that only shows up with people he loves.

Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?

It takes an awful lot to make me blush but I definitely do when I realize how many people I know might read the scene where, having met a few hours prior, Sybil and Kieran escape to the back office of his family’s donut shop and… “make the donuts.”

“My sister thinks I’m sad that I can’t find a nice, reliable guy to love, but at this point I’d be happy with a nice guy to f**k me up against a wall with the fervor and gusto I deserve.”
His expression was hooded, and his fingers moved in small circles over my thighs. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at his long fingers and traced the lines of his body up his forearms. My palm rested on the hard wall of his chest, and his heart thudded under my hand. That made me smile, knowing he was excited, maybe nervous. “Are you a nice guy?”
“That’s not usually how people describe me.” He met my eyes again, hands still resting on my hips. “But sometimes, on special occasions . . .”
I held on to his shoulders and scooted toward the edge of the counter, settling him between my legs and taking in the feel of him against me. “This feels like a special occasion.”
“You know, I found a lucky penny this morning, too. Maybe it was a sign.” His breath came fast at my touch. “I don’t usually believe in luck, though.”
I ran my nails through his hair, enjoying the way his eyelids closed as I gently dragged my nails along his scalp. “Will you make me a doughnut after?”
Edging closer, his lips dropping to my neck, he kissed and lapped at the spot just below my ear. “After?”
The word vibrated against my skin, and his hands slid up my waistline with aching deliberation, fingers stretching up my sides as his lips trailed down my throat. I let out a raspy breath when his thumbs stroked under my breasts. “After.”
“I can do that.”

Readers should read this book….

If they enjoy the classic elements of a rom-com—the banter, the steamy moments, the hijinks related to faking a relationship for family and the media. You should also pick up this book if you’ve ever needed to reframe how you see yourself—if you’ve ever wished anyone in your life would see you as a collection of strengths, skills, and positives versus a stack of things that need fixing.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?

My next book will be out next February. We don’t have a title yet but it’s a best friend’s brother story that really focuses on starting over and reimagining the life ahead when the run slips out from under you. You meet the hero in Just Our Luck. Deacon is an Air Force veteran and the life of the party who is never low on attention from women. His fellow airman’s little sister, Willow, is escaping a bad breakup and the two have an unexpected connection as she works through a list of firsts she experienced with her ex, that she wants a re-do on. This book is in early draft stage now, but I really love it and hope you will, too!
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: 5 copies of JUST OUR LUCK (US only)

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If you won $250 million, what would be the first thing you would spend it on?

 
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Excerpt from Just Our Luck:

1

Sybil

Sybil, it’s already seven forty-five.” My mom stood in the open garage door with her coffee mug in hand, waiting for me to free up her driveway. It was a little game we played every morning-me losing track of time in the shower and her tapping her foot and dressed for the occasion in her signature slacks and sweater set from Ann Taylor Loft. “We need to go. What are you doing?” Her tone was the one that communicated “you are the child who tests me” versus the one reserved for my sister, which sounded like “thank you for being exceptional, Grace.” I’d really tried to be on time that morning-set an alarm and everything. It just . . . didn’t work out.

“I found a penny!” I bent to wedge the coin from where I’d seen it peeking between the grass and the sidewalk under the last few layers of melting snow. My fingertips were chilled, but one didn’t just leave a penny on the ground-at least, I never did. “Got it!” I held it out like a gold medal toward my mother before shoving it in my pocket.

This was a good sign. Today was going to be lucky. I rubbed my palms together against the cold, then waved through the windshield. Turning the key, I rubbed the dashboard to coax my old girl to life, and she sputtered but didn’t turn over. My stepdad insisted she was a pile of junk, but I knew she just needed a soft touch. “C’mon, girl.” I turned the key again and got the same result. “C’mon,” I said, an edge in my voice. She was a pile of junk, but since I hadn’t ever held on to a job for more than six months and was currently living with my parents after getting kicked out of my apartment, she was the only pile of junk I had. “It’s my lucky day,” I said, petting the dash again and hoping my mom didn’t see me doing this dance with my car. She’d side with Paul, which would lead to a long lecture about responsibility, none of which I had time for today.

The engine roared to life, and I cheered, throwing the car into reverse and speeding toward the donut shop. Traffic was light, and I picked up my phone to dial Emi as I drove.

“It’s my lucky day,” I said into the phone as soon as I heard her answer, her breaths coming heavy as she talked during her run. I imagined her ponytail bouncing as she paused at a red light while we spoke. We were unlikely friends in high school-she was studious and captain of the debate team, and I was everyone’s favorite invite to a party, but we discovered a shared love of gelato and the Channel 8 meteorologist we had to watch for a class project. With spoons in hand and an intensely inappropriate interest in barometric pressure, the rest was history.

“You always think it’s your lucky day.”

“I’m aways right.” I waved at ancient Mr. Edwards, who clutched his bathrobe closed and waved his newspaper at me. Lucky again. No peek at his stretched-out briefs and everything sagging out of them this morning.

“Marcus and I are going to be at the bar tonight, so if your date is a dud and you want to hang with us . . .”

“No need.” I’d been talking to Carl through the app for a few days, and he checked all the boxes. “I’ll see you there, but I have total confidence he’s going to be a ten. Plus, he has the most amazing eyebrows.” He also had a real grown-up job in finance, liked dogs, and didn’t make me cringe politically. Since I’d stretched the truth and told my mom and sister I was seeing someone kind and responsible to get them both off my back, it would be great if this worked out.

And it would.

Sure, my last several boyfriends had left a few things to be desired, and one had stolen all my forks before ghosting, but good things happened to me, and Carl was the next good thing. And if that good thing could help me convince my family I was more than just the fun sister, that I could be taken seriously, too, well, that would be a bonus. Grace had Warren, and if I could find a guy that was serious and motivated and . . . well, a little boring, I could show them they didn’t have to keep worrying about me. “It’s going to go great tonight,” I repeated.

“Just in case. You know where we’ll be.”

I whipped my car into a parking spot. There were signs indicating it was backup-only parking, but I knew I’d only be a minute, and whose bright idea was back-up only, anyway? With a quick glance up and down the street for parking enforcement, I closed my door. “I told my boss I’d pick up donuts for the office,” I said, hurrying toward the entrance. “She ordered them from this place, and today’s the day I ask to be considered for that full-time event planning job.”

“Good luck,” Emi said as we hung up. The bell above the door to Joe’s Donuts chimed as I walked in, the scent of sugar and fried dough making me want to stop and take a longer inhale. I rolled the lucky penny in my pocket and searched for the cashier. “Hello?”

There was a crash, and a man’s harried voice from the back of the store called out to give him a minute. I imagined myself surrounded by the contents of a shelf I’d bumped into in the stockroom at my last job and sent out good vibes to whoever was in the back. Everyone had those kinds of mornings, and I had a couple of minutes, so I looked around. There was a bulletin board to my left covered in thank-you notes from young kids with large, uneven handwriting and donuts colored in with crayons and markers. A couple tacked at the bottom read “Get Well Soon, Mr. Joe!” next to a flyer and a collection box for the Pennsylvania Street shelter, asking for donations to support their programming. I slid a finger along the flyer and continued my visual inspection. The drink case gave a low hum, and the coffee urns were labeled with regular and decaf on handwritten note cards.

The pink frosting and brightly colored sprinkles covering the donuts at the front of the display case made my mouth water. I imagined tapping donuts in celebration with my boss when she applauded my gusto to ask for the job and offered it to me on the spot. I grinned and glanced down at my watch. She probably wouldn’t care that I was a few minutes late. After all, I couldn’t help there being a delay at the shop. Although the donuts and pastries were for a meeting with big potential clients. I tried to peek into the back again. “Hello?”

On the counter, two pink boxes sat, labeled “Josefina.” I reached for my wallet, where I’d carefully stashed the petty cash before leaving the office. The total, $36.38, was written under Josefina’s name in black Sharpie, the handwriting small and blocky. “Hello?” I said again, more quietly. It was 8:05 and the meeting started at 8:30. The shop was still, save the faint voices I heard in the back of the store. I could just leave the money with a note. “Here for Josefina,” I called out. “I’m just leaving the money!” I thought I heard a grunt of acknowledgment from the back, and I flashed some side-eye to the closed swinging door. We all made messes, but the clerk still hadn’t returned. Customer service at this place definitely left something to be desired, but I wasn’t letting it get me down. “Keep the change,” I added.

I rummaged through my purse for my wallet. If I broke a few traffic laws, which, let’s be honest, I was going to break anyway, I could get to the office in fifteen minutes. My fingers landed on my keys, my phone, three ChapStick tubes, and a few loose condoms, but no wallet. “Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered to myself. “No, no, no.” I tossed it back on the counter and looked inside. On visual inspection, there was a fourth ChapStick rolling around but no wallet. My watch brightly shone 8:07 a.m., and I looked through the door to the back, seeing no one. I searched my purse one more time, as if the wallet would magically appear, and made a snap decision.

I snatched a napkin from a stack nearby, pulled a pen from the cup next to the register, and wrote a quick note and dropped it on the counter. There was a smiley face drawn in the corner of the top box of donuts, and I imagined the owner happily packing up the treats. I traced the smiley face, glancing around for the clerk again, and debated whether I should do this. But I would come back with the money and I did need to get going. I hurried out to my car with the boxes, tossing them into my passenger seat before peeling out. This was just a speed bump. I could make it there in time. It was my lucky day, after all.

2

Kieran

What were you doing on the stairs alone?” I asked, my voice sounding more panicked than intended. I looked my grandfather over for more injuries. “I would have helped you.” There was a red spot on his arm, and he rubbed his thigh where I was sure a bruise would form, but I was most concerned about his head and ran my fingers across his scalp, checking for bumps or tenderness.

“Don’t fuss. I’m fine.” He waved off my hand and sank into the office chair.

“Granddad, you’re not fine.” I tipped my head to the side to check his left temple. “You just fell down the stairs.”

“And lived to tell the tale,” he said, offering me a wistful smile, the left side affected after his stroke, but the right the same smile I’d grown up with. “I’ve started my day at four in the morning for fifty years, and I’m ready to get back to work.” He looked around the office, from the ancient desktop computer to the aging photos of my little sister, Lila, and me as kids.

I glanced toward the front, where I’d heard a customer call out. They’d probably left, and losing customers was the last thing this shop needed. Business hadn’t been great for a while, but it was worse now. I hadn’t given him the full scope of how bad things really were since I took over tending the store. He needed to heal following his stroke, and the stress would only make everything worse. I shifted so my body would block the stack of medical bills and second notices arranged on the corner of the desk, along with the letter from my medical school informing me that the deadline was nearing for me to accept or decline my deferral. Three months to make a decision and pay the outstanding bill.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “The doctors told you that you need to rest.”

“You can’t run this place by yourself, and Lila’s still in school. And I’m not the one who looks like he’s heading for an early grave.” He waved away my touch again and pointed to my face, as if he could see the evidence of my exhaustion written there. “Admittedly, you didn’t like how I made my way down the stairs, but I’m here now. Put me to work.” He stood but wobbled before straightening, and I caught his elbows as I took in the sheepish and frustrated expression on his face. “Fine,” he said with resignation. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

“No, sir.” I settled him in the chair, ran to the front, and placed the “Back in Ten Minutes” sign on the locked door. The shop was empty, so as predicted, that customer had given up on me. Jogging back to Granddad, I wondered if giving up was the right call.

I’d planned to be a doctor since I was eight years old, when I learned what it looked like for someone to make things better, for someone to have the power to see a problem and fix it. I decided then that I was a person who would fix things. Now, despite my best attempts to take care of everything, it was all still broken, and the man who raised me needed me to be better. I let out a slow breath. He was right, and I wasn’t sleeping enough. If I could get a full night’s sleep, I’d stop feeling sorry for myself and could figure out what seemed impossible-how to get us out of debt and how I could return to medical school.

“We hired a teenager to help a little,” I reassured him as we walked. I didn’t mention that Chad was unreliable, that he listened to only half the things we said, and that we couldn’t afford him, but that seemed to give Granddad some comfort. “We’re figuring it out.” I was careful to make sure my voice sounded positive and optimistic. “We got an order from a new business client, and it’s on the counter right now for pickup.”

“I hate that it’s all on your shoulders, son.” He paused, gripping the railing and meeting my eyes. We’d lived with him and my grandmother since social services took us from our mom, so he was the closest thing I had to a parent, and I knew that look. It was the same one he’d given me when I’d quit music in high school after my grandma died and I wanted more hours to work in the shop. It was the same look he’d given me when I’d skipped parties and going out with friends in college to stay in and study, and it was the same look he’d given me when he’d woken up after his stroke and learned I’d left school to help. It was the same look I’d pretended to ignore all those other times. “I don’t want that for you. Burdens can be shared.”

I nodded and motioned with my chin toward the landing. “You ready to keep going?”

He nodded, and we took it one step at a time up to the apartment over the shop. “Hey,” he said as I unlocked the door. He pointed a shaky finger at the dingy linoleum. “There’s a penny on the ground. Why don’t ya pick it up? You know, for luck.”

“Sure,” I said, opening the door. “I’ll grab it on my way out.” I helped him inside, getting him settled on the couch and making sure he had what he needed. “Tom is gonna come by later, I think,” I said before leaving. His best friend was a staple in our lives, and I was glad Granddad had some company during the day. He and Tom got up to all kinds of trouble in their lives, but at least he’d have a hand down the stairs if need be.

Excerpted from Just Our Luck by Denise Williams Copyright © 2025 by Denise Williams. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
 
 

Book Info:

Sybil Sweet has always been lucky, but lately she can’t catch a break. After years of bouncing from job to job in search of something that feels right and from man to man in search of something special, Sybil is worried that she’s the directionless, floundering daughter her family thinks she is. All she really wants now is a little financial stability and carb comfort. Lucky for her, she’s got just enough in the bank to buy a lottery ticket, and the late-night donut store is open.

Kieran Anderson put his dreams of becoming a doctor on hold to take over running his family’s bakery, and after fighting a losing battle to save the place, he’s exhausted, broke, and no closer to getting back to school. But when a whirlwind of a woman sweeps in late one night, flirty energy gives way to more…until she runs out the next morning, leaving behind her winning lottery ticket.

Lucky for Kieran, his attempt to return the ticket looks like a grand romantic gesture and goes viral, sending sales through the roof. In an effort to keep the store afloat and to convince Sybil’s family she can make good relationship choices, they agree to fake a relationship for three months. Even with hundreds of millions of dollars, finding each other might end up being the sweetest bit of luck for both of them.
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Meet the Author:

Denise Williams wrote her first book in the 2nd grade. I Hate You and its sequel, I Still Hate You, featured a tough, funny heroine, a quirky hero, witty banter, and a dragon. Minus the dragons, these are still the books she likes to write. After penning those early works, she finished second grade and eventually earned a PhD in education. When she’s not writing, reading, and thinking about love stories, she spends her days working in university administration. After growing up a military brat around the world and across the country, Denise now lives in Des Moines, Iowa with her husband, son, and a dog so quirky, she really needs to end up in a book.
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