Curvy Girls Can't Date Surfers


 
 
 
 
 Curvy Girls Can’t Date Surfers
 
 
 
 Kelsie Stelting
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2023 by Kelsie Stelting
 All rights reserved.
 No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
 For questions, address [email protected].
 Editing by Tricia Harden
 Cover concept by Angsty G
 Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs
 Readers sensitive to certain types of content should visit kelsiestelting.com/sensitive-content to learn more.
 Created with Vellum
 
 
 
 
 For Annie, a beachy ray of sunshine
 in the middle of the mountains.
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 
 
 1. April
 
 
 2. Diego
 
 
 3. April
 
 
 4. Diego
 
 
 5. April
 
 
 6. Diego
 
 
 7. April
 
 
 8. Diego
 
 
 9. April
 
 
 10. Diego
 
 
 11. April
 
 
 12. Diego
 
 
 13. April
 
 
 14. Diego
 
 
 15. April
 
 
 16. Diego
 
 
 17. April
 
 
 18. Diego
 
 
 19. April
 
 
 20. Diego
 
 
 21. April
 
 
 22. April
 
 
 23. April
 
 
 24. April
 
 
 25. Diego
 
 
 26. April
 
 
 27. Diego
 
 
 28. April
 
 
 29. Diego
 
 
 30. April
 
 
 31. Diego
 
 
 32. April
 
 
 33. Diego
 
 
 34. April
 
 
 35. April
 
 
 36. Diego
 
 
 37. April
 
 
 38. Diego
 
 
 39. April
 
 
 40. Diego
 
 
 41. April
 
 
 42. Diego
 
 
 43. April
 
 
 44. Diego
 
 
 45. Diego
 
 
 46. April
 
 
 47. Diego
 
 
 48. April
 
 
 49. Diego
 
 
 50. April
 
 
 51. Diego
 
 
 52. Sadie
 
 
 53. Diego
 
 
 54. April
 
 
 55. April
 
 
 56. Diego
 
 
 57. April
 
 
 58. April
 
 
 Epilogue
 
 
 
 
 Author’s Note
 
 
 Acknowledgments
 
 
 Glossary
 
 
 Also by Kelsie Stelting
 
 
 About the Author
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 One
 
 
 April
 
 
 
 
 
 I’ve never had a dog in my life. But here I was, walking our new neighbor’s golden retriever down a foggy private beach.
 We’d only moved to California two days ago so my dad could get better medical care, but my mom was determined for me to “get out there” and find my community, despite the fact that military brats didn’t find community—they just learned the ropes well enough to last until their next move. And my next move was only a year away.
 A seagull landed a few feet away, and Heidi yanked at the leash, nearly dislocating my elbow in her chase.
 “Heidi,” I scolded, hanging on tighter to the leash. “Leave that poor bird alone.”
 She glanced back at me just long enough to show her smile and shake out her shaggy golden coat, completely unbothered by my chiding.
 This dog was going to be the death of me, and it was only day one.
 I slipped out of my sandals, hooking the straps in my free hand, and let my feet press against the hard, wet sand along the shore. Living on the beach was new for me. My dad had been stationed in Hawaii when I was only five, and I remembered the squishy mud more than anything else. Other than that, we’d bounced around bases in the South and the Midwest for all of my childhood.
 The salty air stung my nose, still cool this early in the morning. Tiny beads of moisture hydrated my skin, and I could feel it making my wavy hair grow wild. I wondered what I looked like to all the people who lived in these beachside houses. Surely they knew how out of place I was.
 Each home was bigger than the next with wide windows and massive patios facing the water. Part of me still felt uneasy here. This was our first big home since Mom’s online business exploded—before this, we’d always lived on-base. Nothing like our new three-story home just blocks from the water.
 A dark spot appeared in the fog ahead, and I braced myself to say hello, maybe meet one of our new neighbors.
 An older guy came into view, a smile on his tanned face. “Morning,” he said.
 I nodded in reply.
 As soon as he passed me, I let out a relieved breath. A quiet walk was exactly what I wanted.
 Heidi yanked on the leash again, the loop slipping from my hand, and she took off at a sprint into the fog.
 “Heidi!” I yelled, panic filling my voice. I couldn’t lose the Pfanstiels’ dog. Not the first day. They’d hate my family for as long as we stayed here. “Heidi, come back!”
 I took off after her, barely able to see her through the fog. I had no idea what had caught her attention, but I swore I’d bury it if I ever found out.
 “Heidi!” I yelled, already breathing hard.
 I was not a runner. Not even close.
 She splashed into the water, covering her coat, and went under a wave.
 “Heidi!” I screamed. I could swim, but not well enough to save an eighty-pound dog. Not that I was close enough anyway. She had to be at least two hundred yards away.
 Her head popped above