by Laura Burton
“You won’t have to,” she whispered. “Because I’m never walking away from you again.”
He pressed his lips to hers. It was warm and soft and gentle. But she still pulled back to look him in the eyes. “We are coming back, right?”
He chuckled, lowering her back to the ground. “Of course we are. Our lives are here. And, something else we can’t forget...” He flashed her a heart-stopping smile. “I just got a new parking spot.”
Epilogue
A few months later…
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears as he watched Emily walk toward him down the aisle in the most beautiful white dress he’d ever seen. She looked like an angel sent just for him. Not only to guard his heart, but to save him from the claws of darkness. Though he’d been framed for murder a year ago, she never believed it—not for a second—and if it hadn’t been for the light of her love to guide him back, he would have been lost forever.
‘I love you,’ she mouthed to him as he took her hand. His heart felt lighter than air as he reveled in her radiant smile. She was his savior in more ways than she would ever know.
‘My love for you has no bounds,’ he whispered, pulling her close. ‘I will defy even the impossible if it means saving you.’
And with those simple words, he pressed his lips to hers, vowing to love her forever.
Victorine closed the book with a pleased smile. The crowd of women in the library listening to her reading had tears in their eyes. Never did they expect Victorine Leesky to write a sequel, let alone one with a happy ending. It was the first book where she didn’t kill her female character, but the readers seemed okay with that because it was also the last book in the series, and closing it with a happy ending after so much tragedy seemed only fitting.
After the book signing was over, Ari ran around the table and hugged Victorine’s neck. “I knew it!” she beamed, squeezing her aunt tightly. “I knew they would end up together!”
Victorine laughed. “Yes, they do. Despite all odds, their love prevailed.” She looked up to find Michelle holding up her phone. “Are you filming?”
“Yeah, Judy and Faye couldn’t make it, so they asked me to take a video,” she replied, ending the recording. “So, a happy ending, huh? Who are you, and what have you done to my sister?”
“Uncle Charles!” Ari jumped down from Victorine’s lap and ran to Charles’ arms.
“Ah, there’s the answer,” Michelle teased, and Victorine stood to give her sister a hug.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Oh, Ari’s been looking forward to this since you told her about it,” Michelle said. “So, where to from here? I heard you announce that you will be taking a break from thrillers for a while.”
“Only for a little bit,” Victorine confessed. “Since Anne-Marie branched out on her own, I thought I could help her out by writing some romantic suspense under a pen name. But we’ll see how it goes.”
“Speaking of Anne-Marie, where is she?”
“I saw her earlier,” Victorine said, looking around. “Tessa must’ve gotten her, I’m sure. But she’ll be joining us for dinner, though. Will you?”
“Yeah, count us in. Today was a good day for Ari.”
“Any word on the clinical trial?” Victorine asked.
“Yes, and no.” Michelle looked over her shoulder to make sure Ari wasn’t nearby, then lowered her voice. “I need to get my mother to sign the paperwork, and she’s nowhere to be found. It’s been a nightmare.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Oh, you’ve done so much already.” Michelle waved it off. “But let’s not put a damper on the evening. I’m gonna look for Anne-Marie and we’ll meet you at the restaurant.”
Michelle called for Ari, and she ran back, giving Victorine another hug before walking away to look for Anne-Marie. Charles walked around the table and pulled Victorine close. “So, how does it feel?”
Victorine melted into his arms with a pleased smile. “Feels good. I mean, it’ll take some getting used to, but I’m very happy with how the sequel turned out.”
“I’m proud of you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m also very much in love with you.”
She smiled up at him before pressing her lips to his. “I’m very much in love with you too.”
“Does that mean I get an autograph?” he asked, grabbing a copy of her book from the table and handing it to her.
“That depends,” she teased. “Are you giving it to your secretary?”
He smiled. “Not this one.”
“Okay then.” She uncapped the marker then flipped the book open to the title page. When her eyes landed on a shiny circle taped to the center of the page, she gasped.
“What is this?” she asked, looking up to meet Charles’ eyes.
“What does it look like?” He flashed her a heart-melting smile as he removed the ring from the tape and got down in one knee. “Victorine Leesky… will you marry me?”
Her mouth dropped open as Charles’ deep blue eyes beckoned for an answer. “Yes!” She beamed. “A million times, yes!”
He pushed the ring onto her finger then jumped to his feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the ground and spun her around. An explosion of butterflies fluttered all over her body, and she giggled until her feet found the floor again. Only when she pulled back did she realize the amount of camera flashes in their direction.
Her sisters and Ari cheered a few feet away. Michelle was back to filming, and Anne-Marie was clapping next to Lindzee.
“They knew?” She turned to Charles, and he nodded.
“Ari was the true accomplice, though,” he confessed, winking at her as she stood in front of Michelle with a wide grin. “She’s the one who taped it to the book.”
Victorine hung herself on his neck again, drowning in his charm. “This couldn’t have been more perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He gave her a tender kiss on the lips. “But I’m mostly glad to be the one to give you your happy ending.”
“This is not a happy ending,” she corrected. “This is only the beginning.”
The End
If you want more romance by Jessie Cal, check out: My Best Friend and My Odd Side Job (Trouble in Love Series –Book 1)
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Sweet-Talking the Billionaire by Emma Sutton
Introduction
He's a single dad billionaire who's raising a feisty five-year-old girl. She's the quirky next-door neighbor who promises she’s awful with kids. And despite their shared past, they’re both craving a second chance romance of epically sweet proportions.
Hadley
“Look, I’m a floating ballerina princess!” Five-year-old Nora wobbles on the tips of her toes as she tries her best to balance. Her dark ponytail sways with her, the ever-present gleam in her eyes shifting to something full and fiery this afternoon.
“I see that,” I laugh, secretly hoping this yoga session isn’t about to veer off the rails and grow as out-of-hand as last week’s.
She flings her arms wide in a steady swoop, nearly bopping her best friend, Ryley, on the side of the head. “You can call me the Swan Princess,” she lilts with a curtsy.
“More like Princess Twinkle Toes,” Ryley giggles, her spark of an attitude causing Nora and the rest of the kids to fall into a tidal wave of laughter.
“That’s dumb,” Ryley’s brother, Cohen, says.
“It’s not dumb. What exactly have you accomplished in your life?”
Feeling things about to spiral between the kids, I wonder if I should jump in and intervene. Or do I let them handle it on their own? How is this supposed to go regarding children? I wouldn’t know seeing as I’ve not been around a kid for much time at all over my thirty long years of life. And I’ve certainly never raised
one of my own.
“You can be a princess, too, if you want!” Nora crosses her arms over her chest with force.
“Only girls are princesses.”
“Hey,” I say, trying to diffuse the situation. “Let’s get back to the yoga.”
“No-huh.” She sticks her tongue out at Cohen. “Anybody who wants to be a princess can be one if they want.”
“That’s not how it works. A boy princess is just a prince turned inside-out.”
Turning my back to the kids, I inhale slowly in an attempt to collect myself. I desperately rack my brain for something to help diffuse their exchange but come up empty-handed. To say I’m awful with kids is a severe understatement. I’m the absolute worst.
I’m not good at playing pretend or deciphering what they mean when they say things like a boy princess is just a prince turned inside-out. And I’m certainly not good with mediating drama amongst youth. That’s just never been something that’s in my wheelhouse.
“Right, Hadley?” Nora asks, snapping my attention back to the situation at hand. “He can be a princess, too, can’t he?”
Spinning back to the group, I clasp my hands together and try to think up a cheerful response, something touching that one of my best friends, Landon, would use if she were in my situation right now. She teaches kids how to surf and is much better at socializing with the Under Sixteens than I could ever be.
“Sure! Anybody can be whatever they want in life. Them’s the rules,” I chuckle, my nerves about to short-circuit from all the chaos. “And if anyone tells you differently, you shouldn’t believe them.” I step closer to the group and smile, silently begging them to reign it in. As if that’s how it ever works with children.
“That’s not true,” Jerome adds. “Ryley can’t be an astronaut because of her breathing problems.”
“It’s called asthma, you meanie,” she snaps back. “And I can be an aristronaut if I want.”
Alright, pulling out the big guns.
The only thing I’ve learned about wheedling my way out of absurd situations is you have to act even madder than the subject in question. Flapping my limbs like I’ve suddenly morphed into one of those wacky waving inflatable tube men that stand eighteen feet tall by the car dealership on the island, I show the kids what I’m made of. Having momentarily lost the common sense portion of my mind, I pounce around and screech like I’m the evil witch in Hansel and Gretel trying to lure the children into my delicious cottage of gingerbread, candy, and cakes.
Luckily, my move is erratic enough that it collectively draws their attention as they stand there watching, mouths agape. All the kids are mesmerized by my foul moves until I finally stop, realizing this little act just made me look ridiculous.
Clearing my throat, I nod. “See? I’m not made out of crazy,” I say, their expressions telling me they don’t believe me. “But if I want to be an inflatable tube dude, I can be.”
The kids blink at me, abhorrently stunned. Ryley and Nora both smack their fingers to their mouths in a fit of giggles as we all stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of my small studio space in Shoals Island. The nine kids, all of them between the ages of five and ten, internally orbit separate universes overtop their yoga mats as their expressions tell me they’re wondering what in the heck provoked me into such a craze.
For the past half hour, I’ve been working my butt off in an attempt to wrangle these kiddos through simple yoga poses to iron out the kinks of a potential Yoga For Youngins group that I’d been experimenting with for the past month. But so far? Every session has ended in shattered pieces of absurdity— the type of childish drama I’m clearly inept at handling. At this point, I’m not even sure I can handle a more permanent version of this Yoga For Youngins type class tacked onto my schedule.
“Can we do the dance circle?” Oliver speaks up from where he’s clearly lost interest in my crazed awkwardness. He hovers his green yoga mat, his arms dangling like wilted flower petals. Looking bored as anything, he pops up, straightening his back, and tugs the hem of his T-shirt to stretch it out.
Glancing over at the clock that hangs above the shelf where I keep one of the Bluetooth speakers, I see that we only have fifteen minutes of class left. Thank goodness.
“Yeah! Can we dance?”
“Pretty please?” another kid belts.
Honestly, after the audacity of today’s session, I’m ready to give in to whatever they want. They could ask me to buy them a round of the most delicious chocolate banana nut ice cream from Dream Scoops down the street, and I’d probably give in. “Is everyone okay with that?” I ask, surveying their expressions. “Hopping into the dance circle?”
Having forgotten their earlier spat, Ryley and Cohen both bob their heads. Nora hops up and down with a grin the size of the moon, and Delilah, Antonio, and Zoe’s hands eagerly shoot into the air.
“Alright,” I say, clapping, glad the pressure of the wayward afternoon is finally lifting. Because why is it that this class always feels like an elephant stomping on my nerves? “Any song requests?”
“The people song!”
“The people song?” I hum, a smile tugging at my lips. “Alright, let’s form a circle.” Not catching who’d actually suggested the song— probably Zoe since she’s the musical wizard of the class— I grab my cell phone from the shelf. Stopping the current yoga flow playlist I’d painstakingly curated for the kids this summer only for them to grow entirely jaded with the calmness of it, I search for their prized song. It’s the same song they always request— “Everyday People” by Sly & The Family Stone. “Ready?” I call over my shoulder to an overwhelming chorus of YES, YES, YES!
We dance for ten minutes, their song on repeat, each of the children bringing their own unique dance moves to the enchanted circle of chaos. And at least we’re embracing the mania now instead of trying to put a cap on it.
Oliver starts us off with some simplified break dancing moves and ends with him spinning himself on his back like a top. Zoe earns herself a room full of adorable cheers for her impeccable Flossing after which she proudly bows. Taylor hops in and does some sort of jumping jack routine that somehow flows right into the Charleston mixed with a move I swear I saw on an episode of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers back when I was a kid. And Nora, sweet Nora, did her usual— the dainty Robot.
As a unified group, we spend the last few minutes of class cooling down and settling ourselves into some antsy-yoga version of Child’s Pose, and before I know it, the kids have gathered their belongings and are on their way out the door to be picked up, leaving me to finally be able to breathe again.
Talk about a handful.
Smiling in relief, I realize this class never ceases to drain me to my core. Do I even want to attempt doing a kids’ class like this on a regular basis? The Yoga For Youngins class had been something I’d dreamt up one afternoon when Zoe joined her mom at Beachfront Yoga. A yoga and movement class solely for kids? Seemed brilliant enough to me. Landon had helped me come up with some structure to it since she’s used to working with kids in a much more one-on-one fashion. But regardless of whether or not I continue with this class, getting to know all these kids on a much more personal level over the past month had certainly been interesting.
I flip the light switch, cutting the lights all across the studio and peek around to the waiting room just to make sure no kid is hiding in there. Gathering my tote bag, water bottle, and tennis shoes, I stare myself down in the mirror, smoothing a hand down my frizzy hair.
“Good job, Hadley,” I say, giving myself my daily pep talk. On top of wrangling nine children, I’m just happy as a clam to have finally made the giant worrisome leap to renting my own studio on Shoals Island. My dream was a long-time coming, but it feels like the pieces of my life are finally starting to settle into place.
Well, most of the pieces anyway. There’s still one tiny piece that hasn’t seemed to fit me lately. And that piece is the ever-dreaded romance portion. But that’s okay. Rome sure
ly wasn’t built in a day.
In fact, Friday night’s last-minute double date to Lockhart’s restaurant with Craig and his two friends was torturous. The dude, whom I’d met through a dating app, practiced awful manners with the wait staff, kept talking over me, and swore he hated chicken tenders. Who hates chicken tenders?
Regardless, romance hasn’t gone my way in quite a while. With all of my goals and dreams regarding running my own yoga studio just on the horizon, last week’s date taught me I certainly don’t need a man. That’s right, I need a man in my life as much as I need a thorn in my side.
As I lock the door behind me and trail the stone walkway to the front of the building where my car is parked across the street, I find little Nora sitting on the half-wall of stones all by herself. She kicks her legs out in front of her as she hums something under her breath.
“Hey. Whatcha doin’?” I ask, taking a seat a few feet from her, suddenly worried that she’s the only one still here. I know Nora through this class, but also because I live next door to her, and without fail, whenever she sees me, she comes over just to say hi.
“Waiting on Daddy. He forgot me again.”
Nora’s dad, Parker, has a bad habit of being tied up at work way past Yoga For Youngins pickup. I give him a hard time about when I can, but he’s a single parent, so I know he’s doing his best. I just hate to see Nora so solemn like this.
“Aw, no way,” I say, trying not to let concern lace my voice. “You think your dad could forget someone like you? You want me to call him and see where he is?”
She shakes her head, her lips splitting into a grin. “I can just wait here with you. I’m going to Pop Pop’s tonight.”
Laughing, I drop my sneakers and my tote bag to the gravel. Pop Pop is her grandfather, Jerry Shaw, who started an international phenomenon of a candy company that originated here on the island, Lolli & Pop’s. Parker told me he started Lolli & Pop’s back in the seventies. But as of two years ago, he’d passed the business down to Parker already. In fact, Nora is so enthralled by the candy life, she’s convinced she lives in a castle of candy. “Are you? You’re off to Pop Pop’s then, I guess.”
