Autumn Bliss

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  She was not nothing.

  She was someone who could do good things—and she was loved.

  Opening her eyes, she stared at the ceiling as the sensation of a huge weight lifting from her chest allowed her to take the purest breath she’d ever breathed.

  The feeling was surreal. Empowering. Amazing.

  She laughed, felt like an idiot, then didn’t care. Jumping to her feet, she raced to grab her bag from by the door and dug out her cell phone. Back in the living room, she dialed the number on the card with shaking hands, then feared she’d hyperventilate as she waited for him to answer. The weight was gone, but she was suddenly nervous as all hell.

  “Hey,” he answered. “You got it.”

  His low voice held a smile, and she managed to draw a deep breath. “I got it,” she confirmed.

  “You still mad at me?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Relief echoed clear in his low voice.

  “How have you been?” she asked.

  “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too. I—”

  “It’s been pretty white around here.”

  At first, she thought he meant snow, because she’d been keeping tabs on the weather back in Wisconsin. But then she remembered all the white slips sitting on her kitchen counter. “Um…I’m not entirely sure I understood all the dates on the white paper.”

  “Those were from me. You took all the color when you left.”

  She waited for him to laugh, but he didn’t. Unable to hold back a smile, she teased, “That’s kinda corny. Sweet, but corny.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” And yet she loved it.

  “As long as you’re smiling.”

  “I am. So, where’d you get my address?” She figured Janelle had passed it along.

  “Your brother. He pulled me over for speeding this morning.”

  “Oh, really? Did he give you a ticket?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you deserve one?”

  “I was doing almost ten over.”

  “He should’ve given you a ticket. Where were you going in such a hurry?”

  “Think about it.”

  “The post office?”

  “Try again.”

  Something tickled the edge of her brain, but before she could grasp it, there was a knock at the door. She glanced over with a frown. Oh, please, not Mrs. Lewis again. She liked the woman, but she’d rather spend the next hour or three talking to Levi.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Someone’s at the door. It’s probably my neighbor.”

  “Your neighbor isn’t some hot guy, is he?”

  “No,” she said with a grin. “Mrs. Lewis is in her sixties.”

  “Good—then you should open the door.”

  “I’d rather ignore it.”

  “Mallory,” he admonished.

  “Yeah, I know. Give me a minute. I’ll get rid of her and be right—”

  “Mallory.”

  “What? I’ll be polite about it. Plus, she’s a romantic—she’ll understand.”

  She set down the phone and hurried to the door. She turned the deadbolt before remembering if Mrs. Lewis didn’t see her check the peephole, she’d get the five minute lecture about being safe in the city.

  Leaning to the side, she took a quick glance, then shifted halfway back before the tall figure on the other side registered. Her hand flew to her mouth as she threw open the door.

  Levi smiled big enough to flash his dimple. “Hey.”

  She burst into tears and launched herself into his arms with enough force to send him stumbling back a step.

  “Whoa. Not the reaction I was expecting.”

  “They’re happy tears, I promise.”

  “Okay, that helps.”

  “This is why there was no return address on the box.”

  “Noticed that, did you?”

  “I did, and hand deliveries are better than UPS any day.”

  She hung on tight as he lifted her feet off the ground and carried her into the apartment. Like back at the cabin, he kicked the door shut with his foot, then started for the living room. When he set her back down, she clung tighter.

  “Thank you,” she whispered into his neck.

  “For what?”

  “The bowl. For coming here.” She took a deep breath and pulled back to look him in the eyes. The sheen of moisture in his choked her up even more. “For making me leave so I could realize I am more than my mother ever gave me credit for. I can be me anywhere, it doesn’t matter where I live—especially since I’m the one responsible for my happiness.”

  His lips curved upward. “You figured it out.”

  “I did. All those years she looked at us—her family—as nothing. But we’re each someone, and we always were, even though she couldn’t see it. She was afraid to live, and blamed everyone else because she couldn’t overcome that fear.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head with sadness. “God, she could’ve had everything if she would’ve just found the courage to open her eyes.”

  Which is what she did right then. “Thank you for opening my eyes.”

  His hands slid up her back, warm and sure as they moved to cup her face. “You did the same for me. I was hiding at the lodge, and didn’t realize what a lonely life it was until you showed up with that smile that reached in and grabbed a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. You taught me how to smile again—how to live again.”

  “I was determined to see your smile,” she admitted. “Piper was pretty impressed with it, too.”

  He smiled. “That was a good moment. A jar-worthy moment, and I owe it all to you.”

  She nodded, then closed her eyes as his head dipped, and his lips met hers. Soft and gentle, it was a kiss of two kindred souls joining as one. A moment she’d hold in her heart with his smile forever.

  Resting her forehead against his, nose to nose, she whispered, “I love you, Levi.”

  “I love you, Mallory. I couldn’t ask you to stay, but I’m here now to ask you to come home.”

  Home.

  She grinned through more happy tears. “It’s about damn time.”

  He took the teasing in stride—as in he scooped her up and took five strides to the bedroom, where he proved three times was even better than two.

  ~ The End ~

  Thank you for reading!

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  COMING Fall 2014

  Autumn Kiss

  For eight years, Josie Sullivan has managed to keep memories of Nash Riley buried in the past. Now he’s back in town, and worse, he’s here to stay—in the apartment above her bakery. How in the hell can she keep the distance she’s desperate to maintain when she runs into him every time she turns around and discovers her heart never let go?

  Nash made the mistake of leaving Josie behind all those years ago. Now she won’t give him the time of day—and he can’t really blame her. Buying the building that houses her business seemed like a good plan at the time. But watching her becomes pure torture when he fears he’ll never breach the defensive walls his departure forced her to erect all those years ago.

  Recommended Reads

  More Than A Kiss

  “More Than a Kiss is an entertaining, steamy, at times funny story about two people who come from two different backgrounds. The chemistry and passion between the two is set at the right pace to allow for personal and emotional growth and makes the relationship more believable. This book is a keeper.”

  ~ Adria, Adria’s Romance Reviews

  When a kiss…

  All reporter Sadie Barton wants is to be taken seriously and judged on her own merits, not her stepfather’s money. She and her actress sister left Wisconsin to get out from under
his controlling thumb and leave behind the malicious whispers that they’re no better than their gold-digging mother. But California isn’t all sun and fun, and paying the rent while trying to prove herself is harder than she ever imagined.

  …is more than a kiss…

  Something about Sadie drew self-made millionaire Zach Robinson—and it wasn’t just the amazing kiss they shared as impromptu actors in his company’s commercial. He’s used to women being interested in his wealth, and Sadie’s fierce independence is an enticing breath of fresh air. He’s falling fast—until his brother suggests acting runs in her family and Sadie might not be exactly what she seems…

  EXCERPT

  Zach stood back, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his front pockets while she started the car. The engine sputtered to life, chugged a few times, backfired once, then died. Her next attempt turned the engine over a couple times, then all he heard was a series of clicks and muted quacks through the back window.

  He rocked back on his heels, thinking maybe his wait wouldn’t be as long as he’d expected. Her final try completely killed what was left of the battery, and Zach stepped forward to rap his knuckle on the glass before opening her door once more.

  “Your battery is shot.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Giving her no chance to wallow in the embarrassment staining her cheeks, he had the box of ducks in his arms by the time she exited the front seat. When he started toward his convertible instead of her apartment building, she stuttered to a stop.

  “Where are you going?”

  “We are going to the wildlife sanctuary.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not—I’m offering. As long as you come with me.”

  She moved closer to his vehicle as he deposited the ducks in the back. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”

  “She turned me down. Twice.”

  That only slowed her down for about three seconds. “No get together with friends or parties to go to?”

  “Nope.” None that interested him as much as her, anyway.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with suspicion. “You seriously expect me to believe you’ve got nothing better to do on a Friday night than help me with ducks?”

  He held open the Mustang’s passenger side door for her. “You’re not trying to imply I’m pathetic, are you?”

  “No.” With a resigned sigh and the barest a hint of a smile, she slid into the convertible. “Can’t do that without implicating myself.”

  “Good point.” Zach rounded the front of the car and vaulted behind the wheel with practiced ease. “So, where is this place?”

  “The Wildlife Waystation. It’s an animal rescue off Little Tujunga Canyon Road in the Angeles National Forest.”

  She pulled a sheet of paper from her purse and soon they were following the exact directions from the address he keyed into his phone.

  “Are you a California native?” she asked after a few miles.

  “Born and raised. How about you?”

  “Gemma and I moved here from Wisconsin in February.”

  “Ah, the other dairy state.”

  “The best dairy state,” she corrected.

  “According to the commercials, our cows are happier.”

  “Commercials don’t exactly show things the way they really are.”

  Zach recalled their visible chemistry on screen and slid her a glance. “And sometimes they do.”

  She didn’t have an immediate comeback for that. In fact, she completely avoided looking in his direction, tucking her windblown curls behind her ears while focusing her attention on the purse in her lap. Out of nowhere, she asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Red. You?”

  “Blue. Favorite ice cream?”

  What was this…twenty questions? Okay, fine, he’d play. It was certainly better than silence.

  Flipping on his blinker, he switched lanes and maneuvered around a mini-van and a big black Escalade. “Baskin Robins Gold Medal Ribbon. Y—”

  “Favorite sports team?”

  “Wait, hold on, what’s your favorite ice cream?”

  “I ask the questions, not you.”

  He looked over to see she’d pulled out a small notebook and a pen. Now the game made sense and he bit back a smile. She’d changed her mind.

  “So we’re starting on the interview already?”

  “Why wait until Monday when we can start now, right?”

  “Right. Sure.” He returned to the former question to demonstrate his cooperation. “Which sport? Football? Baseball? Hockey? Basketball?”

  “Might as well give me all of them. Never know what the readers will want.”

  They certainly wouldn’t care about a rundown of his favorite things, but he didn’t tell little miss Julie Andrews that. Instead he added to the list. “49er’s, Dodgers, L.A. Kings, and the Lakers.”

  “California all the way.”

  “Born and raised, remember? Are you a sports fan?”

  “I watch the Packers, and I’ve been to a few Brewers games, but I wouldn’t consider myself a fan in the fanatical sense.”

  “No cheese head for you?”

  “Uh-uh. Moving on…what’s your favorite movie?”

  “Too many to pick just one.”

  After a contemplative glance, she said, “Considering your business, I’ll let that slide. Do you read?”

  “I’m not illiterate if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You know I’m not. What genre do you read?”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this…”

  She tapped her pencil expectantly when he didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Okay, fine,” he said, pretending resignation. “After a long day at the office, I’ve been known to enjoy a good, steamy romance.”

  “I’m talking about books, not your love life.”

  “So am I.”

  Zach spotted the sign for the wildlife sanctuary and switched lanes for the exit for Modjeska Canyon Road. Sadie watched him, not the road. Only there was no surprise in her expression, just skepticism.

  “This is going to be over real quick if you’re just going to mess with me.”

  “You’re more than welcome to come back to my place and check out my bookshelves,” he invited. Her gaze narrowed as he slowed to make the turn at the bottom of the ramp.

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Hey, I’m just making sure you can see I’m being honest here. And to be completely accurate, you should also note that mysteries and thrillers are my true favorites.”

  She scribbled in her notebook. There was a brief pause, then she asked, “Boxers or briefs?”

  That question surprised a chuckle from him. “Now who’s messing with who?”

  “It’s a legitimate question,” she replied with a hint of defensiveness.

  “Bikini, thong or granny panties?” he countered.

  “Questions from you are not part of this deal, remember?”

  “I didn’t say anything when you asked about my favorite color, or what kind of ice cream I like, but trust me, Sadie, no one is going to care about my underwear.”

  “Trust me, Zach, one look at your picture and there are plenty of women who will want to know. Especially once they also find out you’re single, rich, and you enjoy a good, steamy romance.”

  His pulse gave a little leap. Had she just told him she thought he was good-looking? Things were definitely looking up. He decided to extend the fun a little bit, especially since she’d introduced such a promising subject. Plus, for some illogical reason, this word play didn’t make him nervous like when he’d asked her to dinner.

  “Why? It’s just underwear.”

  “Why do men like lingerie?” she shot back. “Or thongs for that matter? It’s just underwear.”

  He snorted as he guided the convertible into a parking space. “That’s like saying the Superbowl is just another football game.” />
  “And women can’t look at men the same way?”

  “Like we’re the Superbowl? Hmm, I like that idea.” He shut off the car and removed the keys from the ignition before shifting in his seat to face Sadie. “Any chance you might be one of those women who’s interested in what’s under my pants?”

  Her cheeks flushed bright red as if she’d been out in the sun too long. “I just ask the questions.”

  “Why this question?”

  She shoved her things in her purse to open her car door, and Zach quickly pushed up in his seat as she got out. He swung his legs over his door while pocketing the keys. When Sadie leaned over the side for the box in the back seat without answering, Zach pulled it out of her reach. The ducks squawked, feet thumping against the cardboard as they struggled to keep their balance.

  “Sadie?”

  She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

  Ducklings in hand, he joined her on the other side of the car and they walked toward the main building. “I don’t think so.”

  “You said I could ask you anything,” she accused. “That you’d be an open book if I did the interview.”

  “I didn’t expect you to ask about my…” He paused when a couple of kids ran past, then lowered his voice as they entered the building. “…underwear.”

  Sadie nodded to an older lady down at the end of the hall, then leaned her elbow and forearm on the counter, hand dangling over the edge as she faced Zach.

  “Tell me, Mr. Robinson, if you can’t answer a simple personal question now, what’s it going to be like when I’m at your office asking the tough questions?”

  ~~~

  “Stacey Joy Netzel has a gift for writing and creating characters with amazing chemistry. The passion between Zach and Sadie was natural and realistic. More Than a Kiss is a hidden treasure, an undiscovered jewel in a pile of books.”

  ~ Danielle, Book Whore Blog