A warm engaging novel, rich in messages of love, forgiveness, joy, and kindness -Ted Kuntz: Psychotherapist, Inspirational Speaker and Author of Peace Begins with Me. www.peacebeginswithme.ca "A refreshing and inspiring read! Although heartrending at times, you will laugh and wonder as you see that by reaching outward, inward and upward-releasing shame, doubt and fear-love and prosperity are what boomerang back" -Taslim Jaffer: Speaker and Author of Let ME Out! Blog. www.letmeoutcreative.com "A story showing human frailty and successful recovery, giving the reader hope and the tools to carve a magnificent future" -Rev. Barbara Leonard: Sr. Minister, Balance Point Inner Garden Online Chapel. www.inner-garden.com "I wish this book were available when I hit 'Brock bottom' at age twenty-three. I'd have tucked it in my knapsack during my ten thousand mile bicycle tour seeding kindness across North America" -Brock Tully: Kindness Ambassador, Speaker and Founder of the World Kindness Concert. www.brocktully.com The Heartmind Wisdom Inspirational Anthology Collection is available at www.kiklibrary.com, bookstore.balboapress.com and amazon.com. Direct Sales Be Better Than Good-Be GREAT! is available at www.kiklibrary.com and amazon.com.

THE KINDNESS AMBASSADOR AND THE SUGARHOLIC PROSECUTOR

13 KEYS TO LIVING THE LIFE YOU ARE MEANT TO LOVEBy JOYCE M. ROSS

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2013 Kindness Is Key Training Inc.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-5749-6

Chapter One

Kindness Key # 1

HARMONY

* * *

"Live in harmony within: mind, heart and soul." Joyce M. Ross

Brandon Ashton stepped out of the funeral of his lifelong friend Terry Richards and into the soggy fall day. Disoriented and sullen, he fished in his pocket for his cell phone and turned it on. No calls. One text from his sister announcing that he had another niece: five-pound, six-ounce baby Gabriela.

Happy for his sister but disappointed for himself, he typed his return message: Congratulations! I'll bet she's as pretty as you. See you tonight. Having been hoping for a nephew, stuffing the phone back in his pocket he consoled himself with the adage that all children were a gift. Not that he'd know. He didn't have kids. An incredibly fat cat and a mangy dog with two legs in heaven were his immediate family.

Dropping his briefcase to the sidewalk, he waved both arms at an oncoming taxi, muttering obscenities when he saw that it already had a fare. Flipping the collar of his overcoat upward, he cursed the insouciant young forecaster who'd predicted sunshine. Vancouver's weather was bloody unpredictable. With mountains for a skyline and the Pacific at its feet, one might as well toss a coin as to whether to wear sunglasses or tote an umbrella. In the future, he'd carry both.

"Do you have far to go?"

Brandon jerked his head toward the sultry voice. Standing behind his left shoulder was a gorgeous woman with extraordinarily blue irises that he guessed were the result of colored contact lenses.

"Not far," he shouted above the downpour gurgling its way into a nearby drain. Ten blocks wasn't far, but it would seem like a thousand miles in this deluge. Going green by walking, biking or busing to work might be one of his dumbest ideas yet.

"Which way?" She glanced to her left and right as she bobbed her golf-sized yellow umbrella. "I'll walk with you." She smiled cheerily. "I carry my own sunshine."

"North." Brandon had no doubt that he was gawking as he scrutinized the purple-coated, midsized, middle-aged auburn beauty. Was she a lunatic or a Good Samaritan? Maybe she was like one of those homeless people who cleaned your car windshield while you were stopped at a light, then expected a handout.

Standing straighter and with her arm stretched skyward, Miss Sunshine positioned her umbrella so that it covered them both. "I saw you at the funeral."

Relieved that she wasn't just some crazy who earned her living escorting rain-drenched citizens to their destinations, he wondered if she'd also seen him sobbing his foolish head off. She hadn't been in the front rows, or he'd have noticed her. "You knew Terry?"

"I know his sister Dee. We met at a conference." She extended her free hand. "Joycelynn Rose."

"Brandon Ashton." Shivering as he shook her hand, he realized that he was soaking wet and likely looked as scruffy as his Heinz 57 mutt. Hopefully he didn't smell as bad.

She took a small step forward, indicating that she wanted to get moving. "Your briefcase."

Stooping to pick it up, he bumped into Joycelynn, knocking the umbrella out of her hand and onto the sidewalk. "Sorry," he muttered, retrieving her portable sunshine, then his briefcase. Feeling like a dumb ass, in his mind's ear he heard Terry mocking him from beyond, Not much of a ladies' man, are you, Bud?

Ignoring his clumsy blunder, Joycelynn asked, "Don't you think we're rather spoiled living in Vancouver?"

The rain dripping from his nose, he contemplated debating her point. It was November, the first of four or five depressing months of grey skies and incessant rain. Except for rare times like today, which was supposed to be sunny and wasn't, winter in Vancouver was miserably dull. Not wanting to spoil her delusion of good fortune, he rolled his shoulders and said, "I don't think about it much."

"What do you think about?" Her curious blue eyes locked on his as though what he was about to say would be the most important thing she would hear today.

"Mostly work." His answer sounded trivial to him and likely lame to her.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a lawyer." He didn't elaborate. A lot of people detested lawyers, especially ones in his area of law. He couldn't count the number of times he'd been referred to as a bottom feeder, bastard or scumbag.

"What kind of law do you practice?"

Head tilted, her gaze uncomfortably intense, she awaited his answer with the attentiveness of a newly appointed judge. "I'm a crown prosecutor," he supplied, wondering if her reply would be a disapproving I see. She was a classy looking babe, but many well-to-do families were peppered with embezzlement, inside trading or tax fraud.

She continued studying him, her gentle manner reminding him of a picture he'd seen of Mother Teresa holding an orphaned baby. "You obviously like what you do, if that's what you think about all the time."

"I guess." Becoming more chilled by the minute, he shuddered. If they didn't soon start walking, he'd freeze to death. What would be even better was something hot to drink. "There's a Starbucks at the corner. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?" he asked, hoping that she did. He could use the company, and if the rain didn't let up he might still need her portable sunshine service.

"Coffee sounds great," she answered, seemingly delighted. "You must be cold."

"Frozen!" He considered offering to hold her umbrella, but fearing his chivalry might not be welcomed, he didn't. "What do you do for a living?" he asked as they headed toward the coffee bar.

"I'm a teacher."

"What do you teach?" Noting her flawless skin, he wondered if it was as soft as it appeared, and whether she was married or had a boyfriend. He'd earlier noticed that she wasn't wearing a ring, but that really told him nothing. For a fleeting moment he pondered what she might be like in bed, but having just left their mutual friend's funeral, his guilt kicked into overdrive. Instead, he pictured her in front of a blackboard.

"Kindness," she chirped as though it were an occupation one heard about every day. "Love in action."

Her captivating eyes roamed his face, then the space above and around his head. Knowing his hair was a mess, he shoved his fingers through it. Kindness. Love in action. Things were falling into place. On one of his many visits to see his dying friend, Terry had mentioned that his sister had befriended a kindness guru. This must be her! "You're the writer." Her career added a new dimension to her appeal. She and her partner taught writing, orchestrated inspirational anthologies and had written a couple of novels. Every book they published made the best sellers list. Until recently, Joycelynn had also run singles dances, which he remembered because Terry had jokingly suggested that might be the place where Brandon could find an endless supply of foxes in high heels.

"Guilty as charged." She laughed.

He was suddenly glad he'd booked the day off. Knowing he might need the distraction of work he'd brought along his briefcase, but it was his choice as to whether he went into the office. Terry's death, though expected and a merciful escape from suffering for his best friend, pummeled Brandon into a dark depression he didn't have the will to fight. Hearing Joycelynn's uplifting laugh ignited a reminiscent spark and he smiled....