# Read the first page of A Love Song for Ricki Wilde by Tia Williams Read the opening of A Love Song for Ricki Wilde by Tia Williams free, no signup. A free-spirited florist moves to Harlem and meets a mysterious musician. - Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/a-love-song-for-ricki-wilde-tia-williams - Genre: Romance - Year: 2024 - ISBN: 9781538726723 - Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9781538726723&s=read-page - Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9781538726723 - Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9781538726723 ## The opening Leap years are strange. And because February 29 exists only every four years, it is a rare, charged day. In the old days, back home, folks whispered that it was an enchanted time. When the veil between this world and the other was gossamer thin. The same folks also thought you could get pregnant from wearing a boy’s shoes. So I never believed them. Until Ricki and Ezra. Depending upon your level of skepticism, you’ll think their story is either (a) evidence that wondrous, unknowable magic exists in the world, or (b) a tall tale. Now, I can’t tell you what to believe. But I will say that the truth is usually right under your nose. So keep your eyes open and pay attention. Leap years are, indeed, strange. And nothing is what it seems. Twenty-eight-year-old Ricki Wilde possessed many talents. She could spot the chicest fashions in the jankiest thrift stores. She refurbished furniture beautifully. She collected interesting words (like “interrobang”: the combination of an exclamation point and a question mark, used to express dismay). Plus, she cooked exquisite cannabis candy and, within three notes, could pinpoint the exact year of any pop, R&B, or hip-hop song in history. But Ricki was terrible at one very important thing. Being a Wilde. As the youngest member of an illustrious family dynasty—the Wildes of Wilde Funeral Homes Inc., the national chain founded in 1932—Ricki knew that her family thought she was Unserious Person. Her only resemblance to the Wildes was her face, which was a carbon copy of those of her socialite sisters, Rashida, Regina, and Rae. (Each born a year apart, they were frequently referred to as Rashidaginarae.) But where her sisters were long-stemmed roses, Ricki, younger than Rae by fifteen years, was a dandelion. A bloom that looked like a flower but was really a weed: born to erupt into fluff, floating wherever the wind blew. Tonight was the Wildes’ Sunday dinner. But it wasn’t just dinner. It was her family’s weekly business meeting. No husbands, kids, or tardiness permitted. Ricki parallel parked hastily at the foot of the driveway and flew up the steps to the front door of her parents’ Buckhead, Atlanta, estate. Hastily, she checked the time on her phone. She was four minutes early—a first! Usually, Ricki sprinted in as the first course was served, sputtering apologies. Her lateness was sometimes excused (1-75 traffic), but usually not (a risky one-night stand holding her hostage in a trailer). Either way, it was never forgotten. Tonight, Ricki had to be on her best behavior. For once, she had important news to share. Life-changing, game-changing news. Quickly, she checked her reflection in the glass inset in the door. She needed to feel powerful, true to herself, which translated into a ’70s halter dress, ’60s gold platforms, and ’80s dolphin hoops, all thrifted from her favorite consignment shops. She fluffed her shoulder-length twist-out and smiled. Perfect, she thought with ballsy defiance. You are a strong, confident woman with a brilliant business plan and a bright future ahead. You are you, and you are enough. Upon further reflection, she removed her septum piercing. And then, calling upon the posture she’d learned at Beauregard School of Etiquette (integrated by her mom, class of ’68), Ricki straightened her shoulders and swept into the house. The rest of the Wildes were already seated in the grand dining room, cocktailing and chatting. “... but, Regina, no one gets caught for tax evasion anymore,” her mother, Carole, was saying as Ricki rushed in. Ricki’s father, Richard, paused mid-sip of wine to sigh at his youngest child. Her sisters’ Botoxed brows, none of which had moved a millimeter in a decade, struggled to frown in disapproval. Ricki slid into her chair. The table was elegantly plated for the first course, a light gazpacho prepared by James, her parents’ longtime butler. Spiffy in a walnut-colored suit, James matched the dark wood and chintz upholstery of the dining room. He dutifully refreshed everyone’s glass except for Carole’s, as she chugged vodka neat from a Hamilton tumbler that the whole city pretended contained water. Then Ricki greeted her family. ## Books with a similar feel - [Roomies by Christina Lauren](https://uncovered.ink/read/roomies-christina-lauren.md) - [Remain by Nicholas Sparks](https://uncovered.ink/read/remain-nicholas-sparks.md) - [One Italian Summer by Rebecca Serle](https://uncovered.ink/read/one-italian-summer-rebecca-serle.md) - [The Burnout by Sophie Kinsella](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-burnout-sophie-kinsella.md) - [The Flatshare by Beth O'Leary](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-flatshare-beth-oleary.md) - [Negotiating Health Care by Sally E. Thorne](https://uncovered.ink/read/negotiating-health-care-sally-e-thorne.md) --- Source: Uncovered (https://uncovered.ink). A short sample shown for reading and discovery. Rights holders can request removal at https://uncovered.ink/takedown.