Until Next Time

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Well, for one, fourteen is my lucky number,” I inform him. “By then, the FBI will realize that witty, five foot four young females with reddish-brown hair are disappearing in the city of New York.”

  I point at the CCTV camera. “There’s a video of the first girl who disappeared around Christmas time. They’ll recognize your face. Boom, I help solve the crime from beyond the grave.”

  He is hugging himself and laughing. “Am I able to escape? Do they kill me? I need to know what happens to me.”

  “You get a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Dad will fight to have you pay for all your crimes. He’ll make sure that your jail cell has posters of my face, so you’re reminded of why you ended up in jail. That’s when my family will finally learn what happened to me. They’ll realize that by not paying for a fancy hotel room, I was left in the hands of some psychotic man.”

  “Psychopath,” he corrects me.

  “Well, you would know.”

  “You do know there are too many holes in that theory?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “Probably. If you don’t like it, you can make up your own story.”

  He extends his hand. His head angles slightly so he can see me better. He’s almost a foot taller than me. A frisson of energy runs through me. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his captivating eyes. “Eros Brassard. It’s nice to meet you, Olivia Evelyn.”

  That voice is so low and sexy. It makes every cell in my body vibrate. Something inside me knots my insides in different directions. My legs wobble. The way he says my name—his touch. I don’t understand what exactly is holding me in place, unable to speak or snatch my hand back.

  It takes me a couple of seconds to remind myself that I’m not like other girls. I don’t gush around a hot guy. My life is already too complicated to add guys to it. Crushes are a major complication. Pulling my hand away from him, I grab my backpack, my carry-on bag, and I run to the nearest restroom.

  Continue Reading Love Like Her

  Something Like Love

  Burke

  Don’t you hate when everyone is quiet and you’re the one who breaks the silence.

  It’s the middle of the ceremony when my phone buzzes. Every person in the area glares at me. I give them an apologetical smile. I check who texted and surprise, surprise, it’s my brothers.

  Fletch: You skipped the game to buy another vineyard?

  Myles: Brother of the year.

  Burke: It was a golf tournament. I’m sure no one missed me.

  Fletch: In case you’re wondering, we won.

  Myles: No thanks to you. Dad is pretty disappointed.

  I roll my eyes. Dad is always disappointed by something we do or don’t do. When I check the header, I see it’s a group chat. Several texts follow from my other brothers

  Kingston: You could’ve at least come for a couple of hours.

  Teddy: You left me with the jocks, thank you, bro.

  Zach: Seriously, Burke, you skipped a charity? Plus, you missed watching Matilda’s first game.

  I smile as I read the last text. Zach adores his stepdaughter as if she was his. Actually, we all love her and her mom.

  Burke: I’m sure everyone has footage of Matilda.

  Teddy (best sister ever): We do. Just a reminder, you’re not a winemaker.

  Fletch: We’ll be at King and Myles’ place celebrating.

  I knew my siblings would give me shit about skipping the charity tournament, but it’s not like they needed me to be there. I paid the fees, my company sponsored the golfcarts, and I donated too. What else do they need from me?

  This is my only chance to visit Silverthorne Bay Vineyards. It’s important to the owner, Mark Griffin, that I witness the events they host to understand the spirit of this place. It’s one of his requirements before he’ll consider selling me the place. It’s not about the money. Though I think the vineyard has potential, I might pass because there is nothing appealing about hosting weddings or other social events, for that matter.

  My goal is to produce wine, not watch two people make the worst mistake of their lives.

  Burke: It’s not like I’m enjoying myself.

  Teddy: You’re fantasizing about how you’ll be dragging women to Silverthorne Bay with the excuse of checking on your grapes.

  Fletch: His balls are as tiny as grapes.

  Teddy: I love my brothers, but all five of you are disgusting.

  Zach: Autumn would like to disagree. I’m a catch.

  Autumn: I never said that, but he’s my catch. Burke, stop being a womanizer.

  Burke: It’s not like that.

  This is one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life.

  I hate weddings.

  I loathe them with a passion. There’s not one wedding I’ve attended that hasn’t ended in divorce, screwing up both parties. Well, no, I’m lying. Zach got married three years ago, and that marriage didn’t end up like the rest. His wife died six months after they said I do. It was a tragic accident. The relationship with that woman and her death broke him up so badly that he was still messed up for a while and not because he loved her, but because he carried some weird guilt with him.

  Thankfully, he met Autumn and now…well, he’s going to marry her and be happy. That’s a marriage I believe in though. They’re part of the forty-nine percent that stays married. I’m not sure about the two who are about to profess their undeniable love to each other.

  “Run before it’s too late,” I whisper.

  I hear a burst of muffled laughter right behind me. When I turn, there’s a petite, curvy redhead watching me with playful eyes. She’s cute. Not just cute. She’s gorgeous.

  “Let me guess, he’s your best friend, and you have the car ready to go in case he gets cold feet.”

  I turn to look at the two naïve people standing under the wooden wedding arch adorned with garden roses and other greenery I don’t know. The woman officiating the wedding talks about the meaning of love. She mentions something about finding the right person. She babbles about blessings, destiny, and meeting the one when the time is right.

  Would I stop the wedding? No.

  “You’d be wrong. Why would I want to stop it?”

  “Well, as I said before, you think he’s making a mistake. Or…”—she looks around and walks closer to me—”You’re standing close enough to yell something like, ‘Don’t get married. I still love you, Steve!’”

  I laugh. “So, I’m here for the groom and not the bride, huh?”

  “It makes it a little more dramatic and romantic, don’t you think? Jaded bride runs away after she learns the groom loved his best friend. She finds some hot man at a bar. Boom, love at first sight.”

  “You could make that into a movie.” I almost clap but I don’t since it’d interrupt the ceremony, again.

  “I’ll think about pitching it to Hollywood.”

  “You might want to try a film producer. Hollywood is a city,” I say sarcastically.

  She gives me a lopsided grin. “So, if it’s not to stop the wedding, why are you here then?”

  Not that she needs to know, but I answer. “To observe the happy wedding of Steve and…what’s her name?”

  Red shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I just made up a name for the groom. He looks like a young Steve Buscemi.”

  I can only see his back, so I can’t confirm or deny her allegation. He might not, but since she has a wild imagination, I’ll pretend she’s right.

  “So, you like to make up stories?”

  “Don’t you? It’s a fun thing to do while you’re waiting.” She points at the couple sitting in the last row. The woman has a toddler on her lap. A man sits next to her looking just as bored as I am.

  I feel you, buddy.

  “That’s Steve’s cousin, Melvin. He’s always had a crush on Tiffany, but since he knocked up Georgia, he just has to watch the love of his life get married today.”

  “Who is Tiffany?”

  “The bride.”

&n
bsp; I glance at her. “Nice gossip. I’m impressed by your abilities. You go around town watching intimate moments so you can write about them at night?”

  She smiles—her light brown eyes crinkle. “You’d be wrong. I write during the day, but it has nothing to do with scandalous family affairs. Though, making up stories on the go keeps me entertained while I wait. That’s how my mom kept her three children occupied most of the time.”

  “What do you write?”

  “I’m a journalist, of sort,” she answers vaguely.

  I glance again at Steve and Tiffany or, well, the bride and groom. They’re probably Bob and Rita. Why is Red covering their wedding? I don’t recognize them, but maybe they’re socialites or somehow important enough to print an article about this crucial moment.

  “Are you here to cover the wedding?”

  She shows me a silver tray tucked under her arm. “No. I’m also a cooking consultant.”

  “Nice joke.” I’m waiting for her to smirk or something. She’s deadpan serious about this weird title. “Is that a real thing?”

  “No, but it could be since it says so on my business cards.” She pulls out her card and reads it out loud. “Chloe Lafferty, cooking consultant.” Then, she hands it to me. “It’s pretty official, don’t you think.”

  I pretend to analyze it. The card is cute. The C in her name is a curved ladle. “You’re right. Nothing says it’s legit better than a business card.” I wink at her, but I still don’t understand what she does. “So, you audit the caterer?” I joke.

  She grins, and I’m starting to dig her smile. “That’d be silly. My passion is cooking. I’d love to start a catering business—Cater My Dreams—but I can’t afford to quit my day job. On the weekends, I help some companies who are overwhelmed with events or are short on personnel. Either I cook or I serve. It’s like outsourcing for events.”

  That sounds like a lot of nonsense. She should quit her day job and do what she loves. Or I can teach her how to spend her free time. We could spend the weekend in this vineyard without any guests. Just the two of us naked and tasting each other.

  “Let me get this straight. Instead of enjoying your weekends. You slave yourself and help celebrate these bizarre rituals?”

  “Jaded,” she says, tapping her chin with her well-manicured index finger. “I’m guessing that if you ever stop a wedding, it’d be because you don’t believe in love.”

  “It’s mostly weddings. They’re the prelude to a divorce.”

  She gasps, and it’s adorable to see her in shock. “A man who doesn’t believe in marriage. What a refreshing concept?”

  “I’m an innovator.” I use the same sarcastic tone she did.

  “So, if you’re not going to stop the wedding and you don’t know the couple, why in the world are you here?”

  “I take that you believe in them?” I scrunch my nose. “Weddings?”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not against them. If you find the perfect person to spend the rest of your life with, why not celebrate it?”

  “You should celebrate being with that person every day, not just during the wedding or anniversaries.”

  “I agree, and if you can’t do that, then don’t get married.”

  “Do you think they’ll be celebrating their love every day?”

  “You should look into becoming a marriage auditor.”

  I laugh. “What is that?” I ask, humoring her. I like her so much that at this point, I’ll discuss the weather if it’ll keep her next to me. Maybe after she’s done working, we can have a little fun.

  With a playful voice, she says, “I guess that’d be someone who goes to weddings, observes, and says, ‘This is going to end in divorce.’”

  “That’d be a tragic job, but I’d take it. Someone has to do it. It’ll be a great way to stop divorces.”

  “So, are you sentencing this one to a painful end?”

  I glance at the couple, pretend to yawn, and shrug a shoulder. “Probably.”

  She shakes her head. “That can’t happen. Not in this place. This vineyard is magical. Perfect. They chose the right venue. Couples that marry here stay together forever.”

  Poor woman, she’s delusional. “You want me to believe that the couples who marry here have never divorced. That’s impossible.”

  “It’s possible and very romantic.” She points toward the arch. “Just imagine standing there by the lake as the sun sets, professing your eternal love to your soulmate.”

  The way she says it, with so much conviction.

  As if love not only exists, but it can be permanent and good.

  I want to believe that she’s right.

  But she’s not.

  Romantic love hurts people. It’s an idea of something unreal and dangerous.

  Love is a lie.

  “For a journalist, you’re too…idealistic.”

  Her eyes become a pair of slits. “Why are you here?”

  The smile is gone, and I instantly miss it.

  “I’m going to buy this vineyard. The owner mentioned they rent the place for weddings, baptisms, and the occasional work retreat. He invited me to watch.” I glance at her. “He expects me to continue this tradition.”

  She presses her hand close to her chest with a horrified look. “How dare he think you’ll follow a hundred-year-old tradition? The horror.”

  I chuckle—some of the guests and even the bride and groom glare at us. They’re about to kick my ass.

  “You’re getting me in trouble,” I complain. “Why don’t we take this somewhere else? I’m sure there’s a closet or some small space where we can keep discussing our differences.”

  At that moment, Seth Bradley, my best friend and security consultant, appears. “Can we have a word?”

  Chole Lafferty made me forget that I wasn’t alone. I brought him and Maddox Curtis along so they could help me assess the property.

  As I’m about to tell Seth to get lost for another minute, Chloe shows me the silver tray she carries. “I have to go back to the kitchen and make sure we’re ready to serve the guests. You know what you can do when you buy this place?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hire me as the official caterer for your vineyard.”

  “Or just focus on the wine and stop the nonsense. I’ll give you some advice too. Quit your job and do what you’re passionate about. In the end, it’ll pay off.”

  “Thank you for the unrequited advice. I’ll consider it.”

  “You should. I’m an IT guy buying vineyards because they’re my new passion. You should just go for it.”

  She grins and walks away.

  “Someone is hooked,” Seth mumbles.

  I glance at him. “As if. I’ll admit that she’s cute.”

  She’s adorable, and in another life, I would’ve kissed her. Taste her sweet lips and try to believe that true love happens at the edge of a sunset and the lake.

  Something Like Love, the second book of the St. James Family releases on April 12.

  Pre-order today

  Afterword

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for spending some time with Zach and Autumn. I hope you enjoyed getting to know them as much as I did and that you’re looking forward to hanging out with the entire St. James family.

  While I was writing Love Like Her last year, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with Zach St. James. It was almost at the end of Eros’s story when I realized there’s a lot more behind Zach than just a widower. Afterward…well, I got to meet his family and their stories are so interesting.

  If you knew everything that’s coming up, you’d want it today. I swear I’m trying to type fast so you can read their stories sooner. Seven more siblings to read about and I’m hoping you love them as much as I do.

  Thank you for picking up a copy of Until Next Time. It means the world to me that among millions of books that are published, you picked this one.

  When you finish reading, and if you loved it as mu
ch as I do, please leave a review and spread the word about it among your friends.

  Sending all my love,

  Claudia xoxo

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, thank you to God because he’s the one who allows me to be here and who gifts me the time, the creativity, and the tools to do what I love.

  Thank you for all the blessings in my life.

  Thank you to my family for your endless love and support.

  Hang Le, my longtime friend and my cover artist. She always understands what my books need.

  Thank you to Gel for her amazing graphics and unlimited support.

  To Yolanda, Patricia, and Melissa for always being there for me and for answering my nonsense.

  Thank you to Amy R. for always going through the book and giving me new ideas and names.

  To Amy, Mary, Dylan, and Jenny for always listening to me while I’m writing.

  Thank you to Brandi, Jenny, Athena, and Darlene for helping me shape this book.

  To all my readers, I’m so grateful for you. Thank you so much for your love, your kindness, and your support. It’s because of you that I can continue doing what I do. My amazing ARC team, girls you are an essential part of my team. Thank you for always being there for me. My Grammers, you rock! To my Chicas! Thank you so much for your continuous support and for being there for me every day! Thank you to all the bloggers who help me spread the word about my books. Thank you never cuts it just right, but I hope it’s enough.

  Thank you for everything. All my love,

  Claudia xoxo

  Claudia is an award winning, USA Today bestselling author.

  She writes alluring, thrilling stories about complicated women and the men who take their breaths away. She lives in Denver, Colorado with her husband and her youngest two children. She has a sweet Bichon, Macey, who thinks she’s the ruler of the house—she’s only partially right. Hanna, the cuddliest and cutest Havanese/Maltese, is the one who rules them all.