by Tia Louise
“Maybe…” Her voice trails off suspiciously, and my eyes widen.
“Are you?” Spinning around, I grip her wrists as she tries to act cool, which she totally sucks at doing. “Are you pregnant?”
“It’s your special day! We can talk about my stuff later.”
“Daisy!”
“The natives are restless, ladies.” Ms. Alice barges into the dressing room. “Let’s get this show on the road before Melody finds her football.”
I give my cousin a tight hug, holding her hands before leaning back. “We’re going to have the biggest party when I get back.”
Ma clutches my upper arms. “I’m out first. Love you, darling. You’re absolutely beautiful.”
JR escorts my mother to her seat, and Tom leads Courtney next. I’m so happy to have him be a part of our lives now that they’re dating.
Scout appears to escort Daisy, and from where I’m peeking behind the door, I catch his sparkling smile. He pulls her close and kisses her cheek, smoothing a hand over her stomach before starting for the front.
I’m so excited and happy for them, and looking around, I realize it’s my turn. Sliding my hands down my skirt and adjusting my veil, I pick up the bouquet I arranged to match the sculptures. It’s coral roses and oversized white peonies with thin white feathers cascading down the front.
Walking myself down the aisle was my idea. I read it was a dramatic statement of independence and doing what I want…
Now, I’m wishing I had agreed to let Miles escort me. Even if he’s shorter, it would be nice to have an arm to grip. I’m a squinky bundle of nerves.
The wedding march begins, and I clear my throat. I square my shoulders and head out to the crowd waiting beachside.
Everyone stands when I appear, and my heart beats faster. I fix my gaze on Spencer and focus on putting one foot in front of the other. When he sees me, desire smolders in his eyes. It squeezes my stomach, and I wish I could kick off these shoes and run the rest of the way into his arms.
As if sensing my anxiety, he leaves the front, meeting me halfway down the aisle and taking my hands. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you right now.”
I blink fast to keep the tears away and clutch his arm, pulling my body securely against his. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
I lean in close, and he wraps an arm around my waist. “I will always rescue you.”
We’re at the front, and the minister begins with the traditional service.
He leads us through the vows, and when he asks us to present the rings, Melody skips up in her tulle dress with Spencer’s hammered titanium and ironwood band tied to a pillow. Heather found it at a vintage store in Boston and gave me a deal, something about our first child being named after her.
Ollie has my ring in his pocket, a simple platinum band that connects with the beautiful diamond engagement ring he gave me a year ago. It’s breathtaking and ridiculously expensive… but it’s nothing compared to the steel jade ring I always wear on my right hand. Spencer’s promise ring.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Looking up into his eyes, my heart is so full, it hurts. This bossy, arrogant, wounded, wonderful man is exactly what I’ve always wanted.
He cups my cheeks in his large hands, and before giving me my wedding kiss, he looks all the way to my soul.
Light shines in his smoky gaze, and I know he’s thinking the same thing as me. We’re back where we started, where he first caught me when I fell. I had no idea he would save me twice.
“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers, sliding his nose along mine before covering my mouth with his.
It’s a proper kiss, but it lights my body from the tips of my toes through my stomach all the way to my scalp. I clutch the front of his blazer, knowing I’ll never let him go, and the noise of applause reminds me we have to stop kissing and be with our guests a little while.
He lifts his head, looking into my eyes once more. I reach up to place my palm against his smiling cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper, imprinting this moment in my mind.
It’s the best we’ve ever shared. This kiss is our promise to love and protect each other forever. It’s a promise in front of the people who know us best, and it’s a promise I know we’ll keep.
This man is the best kind of trouble.
He’s the kind that belongs to me.
Thank you for reading Spencer & Joselyn’s romance. I hope your heart is as full and your cheeks as achy as mine are…
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What to read NOW?
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TWIST OF FATE (link) is Scout and Daisy’s second-chance, friends-to-lovers romance. It’s funny and sexy and full of heart.
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Start with the short prequel story, “You Walked In” (link), then binge the rest in TWIST OF FATE…
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Or go straight to TWIST OF FATE Now (link)!
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Also available on Audio (link), narrated by Sebastian York and Samantha Brentmoor.
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Already read it?
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Feed your craving for more HOT Office Romance with ONE TO CHASE (link)!
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Amy and Marcus’s love story is white-hot (Holeee…). When they reunite in Chicago, sparks fly, the chemistry is blazing, and both are left questioning what they really want.
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Keep clicking for a short sneak peek, or read it NOW on your favorite eBook Retailer!
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*Also available on Audio, narrated by Gary Furlong and Lauren Sweet.
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Sign up for my newsletter (link) and get all three, AND never miss a New Release or Sale by me!
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Twist of Fate
Special Sneak Peek
A friends-to-lovers, second-chance, stand-alone romance by USA Today bestselling author Tia Louise.
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To be “just friends” with a guy, you’ve got to follow The Rules:
Don’t touch him unnecessarily.
Don’t share your intimate dreams with him (even if he asks).
Don’t kiss him, and definitely don’t sleep with him.
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Scout Dunne and I have been “just friends” since childhood.
He’s everything you could want—sexy, charming, confident—every girl’s wet dream.
Until we broke The Rules.
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We broke them in the ocean, in my aunt’s bathroom, in my bed…
It was the hottest week of my life.
I’m one of the few people who knows the first-round NFL draft pick wants more than a life of sports.
Because we’re friends, right?
Not anymore.
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Now he’s gone, and I’m trying to get my career back on track.
Mamma said a guy would never put your dreams ahead of his.
But the twist of fate?
It’s something you never see coming.
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(TWIST OF FATE is a STAND-ALONE friends-to-lovers, accidental pregnancy romance. No cheating. No cliffhanger.)
Prologue
Scout
People used to say I could sweet-talk the devil into going to church.
My mom, who was a librarian and English teacher and one of the smartest people I ever knew, said I was a misunderstood character.
She said people looked at me and saw a handsome young man—her words—with blond hair and blue eyes, who slept with a football instead of a pillow and didn’t make very good grades and assumed I traded on that to get ahead.
That’s where they were wrong, she said. Mom said talking to people and listening to what they said made me just as smart as any valedictorian. She said my brother John
, who we all call J.R., is more serious because he’s older.
I loved my mom, but I’m not sure she’s right either. I just learned pretty quickly growing up in Fireside, South Carolina, one of the smallest towns this side of Charleston, I’d get a lot further with being nice to people than being shitty.
For example, when I was in fourth grade, Ms. Myrna was going to flunk me because I couldn’t analyze Stargirl to her liking. I just didn’t understand it. The girl was weird, and I get it, Leo was a nerd with no friends, but what was I supposed to be learning from this story?
What was way clearer to me was Ms. Myrna’s husband had thrown out his back working construction at the new development down on the coast, at Oceanside Beach. He was laid up in the bed for weeks, and I could tell by the tightness around my teacher’s eyes, it was wearing on her.
So maybe I couldn’t write an A paper, but I sure could mow her grass and cut that old vine off her back fence and hold the door for her when she carried too many books from the teacher’s closet.
Ultimately, she said if I could at least recite the plot of the story, she’d give me credit for reading the book.
What did that teach me? Getting in there is better than keeping people at arm’s length like my brother. It’s not manipulation. It’s simple facts.
Facts I never shared with my mom.
She was also the kindest person I knew. Laying in that sickbed, she would trace her fingers along my forehead as I knelt at her bedside, and I never wanted her to leave us.
The night she died, the man from church said heaven must’ve needed another angel. He said she was too good for this earth—something even I knew. He said it was fate.
Losing my mom was a truckload of bullshit. I’ve never felt anger so intense, burning so hard in my chest, it radiated up the back of my neck. It made me want to break things. It made me almost forget…
My life was like an Etch A Sketch Fate scooped up and shook hard. I hated that feeling. It sucked. I never wanted to feel it again.
J.R. and I were left with my dad to figure out what the hell to do with ourselves, so we did what we knew—football. Dad threw himself into work, only noticing us when we were in the backyard drilling, and when J.R. and I became superstars.
Then I was cast in a few school plays, and I discovered I could be somebody else. I learned all that anger and pain disappeared on the stage. People liked watching me, and when I made them laugh or gasp or cry, I felt like I’d done something huge.
I’ve only ever told one person that story, a girl in glasses I discovered at a junkyard, and she didn’t misunderstand. She wanted to know more.
Daisy
Fear was my earliest memory.
I can still see my mom looking out the kitchen window at the horizon, her body rigid and her mind far away. Even then, she was planning her escape, and it scared me.
I’d go to her and tug on her shirt, but she wouldn’t pick me up. She’d exhale a noise of resignation and go back to hand-washing the dishes. Sometimes she’d break one.
Sometimes, when she was sitting in her chair, tearing the pages in one of dad’s old books, she’d tell me to forget about trying to be pretty.
“Smart is the only thing that matters,” she’d say. “No matter how pretty you are, it’s our fate to be alone.”
I didn’t know what she meant. I thought she was pretty. I can still see her hair shimmering like turned maple in the sunshine, rare and beautiful, and I was here.
She left us in late May. I don’t know what finally made her do it.
I was a junior in high school, listening to boy bands and wishing my stick-straight blonde hair would have the slightest bend. I had a crush on the cute boy in my Algebra 2 class, but he turned out to be a real dickhead.
“Don’t ever expect a man to put your dreams ahead of his.” Fear knotted my throat as I watched her slamming her clothes into the open suitcase. “Men are selfish, self-centered… You have to look out for yourself. Men won’t make you happy.”
What about me? The question pressed against the insides of my temples. Daisy means happy. She’d told me a thousand times. The daisy is the happiest flower. I could make her happy.
I followed her to the door, unable to make my voice work, and she paused one last time. “I’ll send for you as soon as I’m settled.”
But she never did.
She wasn’t the person I thought, either. She threw us away like old trash. Then one day, standing in a junkyard, someone magical found me...
Start with the short prequel story, “You Walked In” (link), then binge the rest in TWIST OF FATE…
* * *
Or go straight to TWIST OF FATE Today (link)!
* * *
Also available on Audio (link), narrated by Sebastian York and Samantha Brentmoor.
One to Chase
Exclusive Sneak Peek
(Marcus + Amy)
© TLM Productions LLC, 2015
Chapter 1: Family Favor
Marcus
Leaning my head back against the door, a hoarse groan scrapes from my throat. “Fuck, yeah.” My eyes clench shut as the blonde head bobs faster on my cock, shooting currents of pleasure down my legs.
Shit.
Sidebar.
Okay, just for the record, blowjobs in the men’s room of five-star restaurants are not my usual lunchtime routine.
I’m not twenty-one, and I prefer the comforts of my penthouse condominium to blocking a narrow wooden doorway with my thousand-dollar loafers. Digital surround-sound speakers provide a far superior backdrop to kitchen noise, and when we’re done, we can share a glass of expensive wine before I call a car to drive her home.
My balls tighten in response to her rapid pumping. Her hand flies up, down, and over my dick. Paige Goldfarb is working me like a pro, and I thank the magic of the Internet for teaching our society gals how to give superior head.
Actually, that’s not correct. I know as well as anyone where Paige acquired her skills.
“Mmm,” she hums around my shaft as she pulls me deep, all the way down, the back of her throat closing around my tip.
“Fuck, that’s good.” A lock of shiny blonde hair has fallen onto her cheek, and I slide it back, gently touching her face. My knees are liquid.
So if this isn’t my usual routine, what the devil am I doing?
Glad you asked.
What’s happening right now is called Payback.
Not against Paige, mind you, against someone else. I’ll explain more when I’m not attempting to enjoy myself. Payback has no gag reflex, it appears. Hold that thought while I ride this one out.
“Yes,” I hiss. “I’m about to come.”
Her head bobs faster, and I feel my balls drawing up. Just then she pops out and gives them a teasing suck, her hand flying up and down my shaft. Shit shit. Teabagging.
My jaw tightens as I grind out, “Here comes.”
Just like that, she’s back on my cock, sucking me off like a damn Hoover. I can’t hold back, and she’s not stopping. With a shuddering groan I let go, and she goes all the way, her lips touch my torso. I shoot straight down her throat, again and again.
That’s one way to spare my Armani slacks.
The thought makes me laugh weakly as I exhale a deep breath. “Shit, girl. I’m pretty sure I saw stars just then.”
My back is against the door of the single-serve men’s room at The Q—Chicago’s finest lakefront restaurant—and no, this is not on the menu in case you were wondering.
Paige rises in one fluid movement and steps over to the lavatory. She’s tall and willowy, and I watch as she opens her clutch with slim, perfectly manicured hands to remove a rectangular plastic box.
“Tic tac?” A glance back, and a slim brow rises over one of her clear blue eyes.
Pulling my grey slacks up, I take a moment to fasten my alligator belt. “I’m good, thanks.”
As I said, this is payback for me, but I have no idea what our naughty little rendezvous mean
s to Paige. This newly minted heiress is smart, and I’m sure she’ll use what we just did to her advantage.
“Who are you having lunch with?” I ask, watching her glide nude-pink lipstick over her slightly swollen lips.
“Karen,” she says, stepping to the door.
Karen Philpot is not a newly minted heiress. She’s as old money as they come, and a possible motive unfolds slowly in my mind. As a lawyer, it’s my job to read people, after all.
“No wonder you followed me in here.” I’m only half sarcastic. Karen is also the judgiest trust-fund baby on Riverside Drive.
Paige stops at the door before leaving and gives me a wink. “I’ll be in touch, Marcus.”
“I look forward to it.”
With that, she’s out the door. I only wait two seconds before following her. Remember, I had a reason for not stopping what just happened here. Well, that and my suspicion a former stripper-turned-heiress would give one hell of a hummer. (I was right, by the way.)
And now you know.
Or do I need to explain further?
