by Karen Ferry
Daring To Love
Written In The Stars #3 - Aries
Karen Ferry
Contents
Foreword
Untitled
Prologue
1. Amelie Winters
2. Finlay
3. Amelie
4. Finlay
5. Amelie
6. Finlay
7. Amelie
8. Finlay
9. Amelie
10. Finlay
11. Amelie
12. Finlay
13. Amelie
Epilogue
Sneak Peak at Written In The Stars #4
Price Of Love by Erica Marselas
Written In The Stars Series
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Karen Ferry
Foreword
Dear Readers,
Do you believe in destiny? Or do you believe you drive your own fate when it comes to matters of the heart?
The idea for the Written in the Stars series came about one afternoon as I was thinking about how intertwined we are with the universe and the cosmos—we’re made of stardust, after all. It got me thinking about astrology, and whether something as celestial as our Zodiac signs influenced how we behave in love. Some may call it pseudoscience, while others use their horoscopes daily to make major life, love, and career decisions.
That’s how this series was born!
Twelve months. Twelve wickedly talented romance authors. All coming together to answer the age-old question—Does your horoscope decide your fate in love?
You’ll have to decide for yourself as you binge-read your way through twelve deliciously sexy and deeply romantic stand-alone novellas—one for each Zodiac sign. I can’t wait to start this journey with you. Personally? I think it was written in the stars!
XO,
C.M. Albert
P.S. Please join us in our fun and interactive Written in the Stars readers’ group where we discuss all things horoscope and love related!
a Written In The Stars novella #3
KAREN FERRY
DARING TO LOVE BLURB
She’s searching for her knight in shining armour.
I’m convinced the stars don’t have a say in matters of the heart.
Finlay Jensen
My reputation as a ladies man has worked well for me, both personally and professionally, until I’m punished with an entertainment piece. After almost getting arrested while working on my last story, my editor is forcing me to write up a piece on the biggest talent in modern dance, Amelie Winters.
Watching her twirl around the studio is enchanting. This gorgeous, tiny creature captures my attention without even trying. I quickly realise she’s my complete opposite, yet it only makes me want her more. She’s shy, inexperienced, a hopeless romantic…so wrong for a man like me.
But there’s a fire in her eyes when she looks at me that I can’t ignore.
Can her obsession with the stars have any truth to it? Is it fate that has me fascinated by someone so wrong for me?
Perhaps your horoscope does decide your fate in love?
***Daring To Love can be read as a standalone novella as a part of the Written In The Stars series!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, places, media, and incidents are either the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.
The publication/use of these trademarks are not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means (including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods) without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2020 by Karen Ferry
Cover Designer: Cover Me Darling
Created with Vellum
Dedication
To all the ladies of the Written In The Stars series –
You are amazing storytellers! Thank you for letting me be a part of this adventure with you.
To Phala Theng –
Thank you for not letting me botch up my French translations - you are a gem!
Lastly, thank you, my dear readers, for sticking with me.
I hope that Amelie and Finlay’s story will give you a respite from the uncertain and frightening world we live in these days.
All my love to you and your families.
Karen Ferry
xxx
Prologue
Finlay Jensen
From The Scottish Sun:
Hello, Aries! Can you feel it? The sense that something exciting is about to happen today? Your body hums with anticipation, you’re twitching in your seat, and deep down, you know that today is a special day.
I am here to tell you this: you’re right. Today is extraordinary, because your life is about to change in a massive way. I can practically see you right now, your hands wrapped tightly around a mug of tea, your lips spread in a confident smile, your body a taut wire, about to coil and spring…ready to face the day and its challenges.
Do you want me to tell you what is going to happen?
Well, I’m not going to do that, because that defeats the point of the surprise, doesn’t it? I will say, though, that the fire simmering in your spirit is about to be awakened, burning brighter than ever, and if you are prone to sighing and, dare I say it, lusting for meeting your happily-ever-after, there’s a very good chance that your wish will be granted. But you have to keep an open mind – something I know you can do, despite your tendency to keep your walls up – because the person that’s about to cross your path might not be who you’d envisioned.
Perhaps this person is your complete opposite?
Maybe he or she will balk at your spirit, your tenacity, making you feel unsure of yourself?
Fear not.
As you already know, everything happens for a reason, and today’s events will be no different.
The question you have to ask yourself, however, is…
Are you brave enough to face this particular challenge?
Are you stubborn enough not to give in if whoever you meet won’t admit you share a real connection between you?
There’s only one way to find out.
Enjoy the journey.
I promise it’ll be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.
Chuckling, I toss the newspaper away. What a load of bollocks! I can’t believe people buy into these things, but I have to say that I get a kick out of reading them now and then.
I crane my neck, checking the time on the big clock hanging atop the fireplace. I still have ten minutes before I have to be on my way to do the interview. Frowning, I look down at the blurry photograph of a young woman in a hoodie, sunglasses on, keeping her head down. A huge bag is slung over her shoulder, and though it’s only a photograph, I get the feeling there’s a purposeful stride to her as she walks to wherever she’s going to. Her form is indistinguishable, making me tilt my head this way and that to make it out, but eventually, I give up. I gulp down the last of my morning coffee and get up from my seat at my breakfast nook.
Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this reluctant to go to work. Being a journalist and chasing a story is what makes me tick but knowing what I have to do today churns my stomach.
Amelie Winters. Hmm. I wonder what it is about this young girl that’s so
interesting my editor wants to degrade me to write it. I don’t do the high society pages, but if I want to keep my flat, I have no other choice but to get on with things.
All the while I wash up my cutlery and dry them off, the small hairs on my neck prickle, and a strange sense of urgency causes me to hurry. I shrug into my blazer and rifle through my bag to make sure I have everything I need. Then, again letting out a long-suffering sigh, I grab my keys and head out my front door.
Time to meet the young woman who’s said to make even the stuffiest old men fall to their knees with her dancing.
Or, to put it bluntly, it’s time to serve my punishment.
1
Amelie Winters
I close my laptop and shake my head, silently scoffing at today’s horoscope. I wonder why I keep reading it because, contrary to what it says, nothing exciting ever really happens to me. Not in the way it always tells me it will, anyway.
Each week, I vow I won’t give in the following week. That I’ll stop believing in fairy dust, unicorns, or that I’ll meet a tall, dark stranger who’ll sweep me off my feet.
I don’t live in a bloody Disney movie.
And yet…every week, I break my own promise because the fact is that I just can’t help myself. It’s an ingrained habit of mine that I’ve had almost all my life.
Some people believe in God, or fate, or serendipity.
I, however, believe in my horoscope.
The difficult part, though, is sifting through the good clairvoyants from the bad ones, and lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that this particular Mystic Meg is always wrong.
“Ugh.” I raise my mug and take a slow sip of my tea but shudder when the lukewarm sludge reaches my taste buds. A low meow makes me look down at my feet and I give my ginger-haired cat, Monty, a crooked smile.
“Being a hopeless romantic is so bloody annoying,” I mutter. “It’s ridiculous.”
He butts his head against my crossed ankles, and I bend to pick him up.
“I know, I know.” I close my eyes, comforted when he tucks his head underneath my chin. “Who needs a man when I’ve got you, eh, darling?”
He clambers up on my shoulder, his favourite place to be, and hides his head in my dark-brown curls. I shake my head at this daily ritual but am comforted by the familiar weight as well as affection. I glance at the big, white grandfather clock in my living room and get up from my seat. Time to get a move on and head to my morning classes at the University of Edinburgh. Quickly, I clear the table, cat firmly placed on my shoulders, thinking about today’s tasks.
Okay, I have to admit that Mystic Meg did get another point right – maybe she’s not as bad as I thought? – because my body is buzzing with anticipation. Today is pretty special: not only is it my birthday but turning twenty-three isn’t what excites me the most. No, the thing that marks today as a special occasion is what’s going to happen this afternoon. The ensemble is great this year, but today is more exciting than ever because rehearsals start on a new, modern interpretation of The Swan Lake next week, and I’ve been working harder than ever all year for this.
“What do you think, Monty? Do you think I’ll get the lead?”
He meows, and I chuckle at my own silliness. Pretending that Monty understands every single thing that I say makes me feel less alone. Being in Scotland on my own the past nine months has been hard, but it’s also made me much more self-reliant than I used to be. But at the same time, the move has been good for me, and I’m glad I listened to my instincts, as well as my horoscope, and made the change.
My phone pings, alerting me of new text, and I pick it up from the table and swipe to read it.
Maman: Happy birthday and good luck today, ma petite. xx
I’m touched by Maman’s text, but it also makes me long for one of her hugs. She doesn’t only embrace you with her arms, but her whole body, gently swaying you from side to side, and I’ve always felt much better afterwards.
Me: Thanks, Maman. I’ll ring you later tonight. xx
I twitch around as I reach up to untangle my mass of hair from Monty and manage to grab him underneath his front legs even though it’s from an awkward angle. My body doesn’t protest, though, and that’s one of the best things about being a dancer: the control I have as I command my body to bend and twist in different, sometimes impossible ways.
“Right, down you go. I have to get going.”
Another incoming text makes me stop reaching for my bag lying on the dinner table.
Maman: Your dad has arranged for a journalist to interview you tonight at the studio. Please remember to bring an extra set of clothes and your makeup. xx
I read the text twice, unblinking, and yet I can’t seem to take it in. The nerve of him! Dad means well, but this is the last thing I’d want on my birthday: having to deal with some middle-aged guy, no doubt, who doesn’t give a toss about dance but won’t stop staring at my cleavage all the while pretending he’s listening to what I have to say is not something I’ll take part in.
Finally, the alarm on my phone makes me spring into motion. I shake my head as I fire off a last text to my mum.
Me: Tell Dad I am furious with his meddling in my career. I’ll speak with you later. xx
Huffing, annoyed at not only my dad wanting to control my future career, and now being late for my classes, I scurry around my flat, practicing a speech to tell him off once I get home tonight. I pick up my bag and keys from the small dresser in my narrow hallway, and shrug into my leather jacket. I know I need to focus on myself and what I’ve rehearsed for tonight, but I’m seething. Sometimes, like today, it feels like I truly have fire inside me, because I’m burning up, almost sweating – and all because of my dear, old dad.
“I can’t believe he’d do this again, Monty.”
I blow the cat a kiss as I unlock my door, but as soon as I wrench it open, I squeal in fright as a very large thing in front of me stops me in my tracks. I blink rapidly as I take in a raised arm next to my head, and I automatically scurry a step back, ready to flee into my sanctuary if need be. I feel boxed in, a feeling I can’t stand.
“Amelie Winters?”
Resentment washes through me as whoever’s standing in front of me is currently preventing me from leaving my flat in a fiery storm. My heart beats frantically, my pulse quickening loudly in my ears, and I huff, hand on chest, as I try to settle my nerves.
“Hello?”
The word is drawn out, annoyed, and not to mention said in a very low, attractive baritone.
Wait, what?
Befuddled, I shake my head and try to put myself to rights, and I do what I’ve always done when I’ve been out of sorts. I find a focal point, and right now, that point is the wide thing in front of me. As my heartbeats and pulse slowly settle down, I realise that the thing isn’t a thing at all. Which, come to think of it, makes sense since the raised arm now lowers slowly, and I follow it and take in the loosely curled fist. The knuckles are coated with a dusting of light-coloured hair, alerting me to the fact that it’s a man. My head snaps up again and settle on his chest covered in a white T-shirt and black jacket.
Frowning, I raise my head further, my gaze resting briefly on his mouth, and I’m met with a smirk – a smirk, of all things! – from a set of full lips that instantly make my insides tingle. My breath hitches as my eyes travel up from those delectable lips to take in an almost square chin with a defined cleft in the middle, sharp cheekbones covered in days-old stubbles, and dark-brown eyes surrounded with lashes any woman, including me, would kill to have.
It isn’t until the man in front of my doorstep clears his throat that I’m able to find words.
“Yes?” I squeak.
“You are Amelie Winters, right?”
I clutch my bag tighter to my chest, ready to defend myself if I have to, and nod.
The smirk disappears from the guy’s face and is replaced with a disarming smile that makes me suspicious of his motives at once.
“Excellen
t.” He extends his hand to me. “My name’s Finlay Jensen. I’m here for the interview.”
“Interview?”
Blast!
He nods, patiently waiting for me to shake his hand, but if he thinks a boyish smile is going to make me topple over and fall at his feet, he’s got another think coming.
I try to force my lips into a smile, but the fright he gave me still lingers, and it doesn’t come easily to me.
“I’m sorry, but I’m on my way out.”
He frowns at me, the seemingly affable mask slipping, and I catch the annoyance that flashes in his eyes before he smiles crookedly at me.
“That’s a shame.”
I shrug and take a step forward, sidestepping him easily when he moves back to give me room.
“Not really. I didn’t know about the interview until ten minutes ago,” I explain, “and I was told it wasn’t until later tonight.”
“That’s odd. My editor told me to meet you now, here.”
Sighing, I give him half my back as I lock my door. “Sorry, but I’m late for class, so…we’ll reschedule, okay?”
“Can’t I tag along, wait for you at a coffee shop, and we’ll do the interview afterwards?”
