A successful San Francisco pastry chef, forty-something Leanne Spencer is loyal to a fault; she never lets family, friends, or a client down. Unfortunately for Leanne, her dutiful nature extends to the parasitic egocentric men she can’t help but date. Even after multiple sessions with her fake therapist/best friend, and countless self-help books, she’s baffled. After all, she had a reasonably normal childhood, except for gathering roadkill with her mother and losing a wonderful father when she was four in a horrible accident.

Except, her beloved mother lied for over forty years. Dad is very much alive, and nothing like the paragon of virtue her mother claimed him to be. “I’d like to say risen à la Jesus, but the truth is, your father is more of a bastard than a holy man.” Leanne is devastated and relentlessly campaigns to get the whole truth from her elusive and eccentric mother, Patrica. Could the answer to Leanne’s demons lie somewhere within the hidden past? Hell, yes.

Through vivid recollections, a reluctant Patricia takes Leanne to the late fifties to relive the woeful tale of a naïve seventeen-year-old jazz singer, the slick narcissist who destroyed her life, and a pious nutjob of a mother who forced her into his arms. But Patricia’s stories are so dark and outrageous Leanne isn’t sure what or who to believe.

She better figure it out fast—Leanne’s met the one. David. A wise widower who’s as good as it gets, and madly in love with Leanne, but not her inability to trust him. Once the heartbreaking reason for Leanne’s mistrust is revealed, Leanne must accept lies can be the kindest of truths and learn to trust a truly decent man or lose him, her mother, and maybe her mind.