by Marisa Logan
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Katie was able to see her father’s face as he stood at the makeshift altar next to the Captain. He looked so proud and happy as his eyes took in the sight of his beautiful daughter. Realizing that everyone had turned to look at them, Katie felt a moment of panic at finding herself the center of attention. Suddenly everyone stood up and Katie realized Mandy was coming into sight behind her. They’re here to see the bride, not you! Focus, Katie reminded herself sternly.
As Mandy reached the bottom of the stairs first, Katie and then Tina carefully kissed her on each cheek. Then, with the bride walking a couple of steps ahead of them, the two bridesmaids fell in behind her and followed her to the altar.
Katie noted how her father’s eyes were fixed on Mandy from the moment she appeared and he glowed with happiness at the sight of her. She fixed her own eyes on him as it helped to still the butterflies dancing in her stomach. If she felt slighted by her father’s focus on his bride, it didn’t register in her thoughts.
At the altar, the two bridesmaids stepped up next to the bride and presented her to the bridegroom. He gently took Mandy’s hand and the two of them turned to face the Captain. The simple ceremony passed in a blur and it didn’t take long for the Captain to announce, “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Covington!”
With those words, a cheer went up from the crowd and a flurry of rice flew from every direction as the new couple walked towards the back of the riverboat. Everyone was clapping and cheering and shouts of ‘Congratulations!’ came from every corner of the boat. The sudden blast from the riverboat whistle caused everyone to jump in surprise and then burst into laughter.
The reception area on the upper deck was nearly filled with tables with one end reserved for the dance floor. As the guests made their way upstairs, darkness began to fall over the river. Katie stood next to her father and his new bride in the reception line and greeted everyone. It was a long process as the guests made their way to the tables.
The riverboat made its way upriver and then down as the dining and dancing went on into the night. Just before they returned to the dock for everyone to disembark, a shout went up from one end of the boat and everyone looked around.
To their surprise and delight, the Aurora Borealis came out to put a final stamp of approval on this happy union. Darren and Katie enjoyed the look on Mandy’s face as she watched the ribbons of light stream across the northern sky.
“Katie! This is so amazing,” Mandy whispered. “Your wedding arrangements are perfection!”
“Nah,” Katie blushed, “I think I had a little help from Upstairs on this one.”
“I get the feeling someone put in a good word for you,” Darren said as he put one arm around his daughter and the other around his new bride.
The three of them stood together as one while the sky danced before them.
THE END
***
If you enjoyed this book look for
A Single Year
also by Renee Hart, on amazon.com.
Bonus Book 5 -- Vanity Unmasked
A Contemporary Paranormal
Romance Novella
(Clean Romance Edition)
J.L. STARR
Book Description
Maddie Wright didn't want to say she was shy, but she'd spent her whole life too afraid to put herself out there and take risks for the things she wanted. Her life was her music, but she hid it online behind a fake username and a secret identity. It's her big secret, but it isn't going to stay secret much longer.
She gets her big break when she meets a man who promises he can make her into a star. Finally, she'll have the chance to take off her mask and reveal who she really is, to the cheers and applause of her adoring fans. And along the way, she might just find love as well.
There are plenty of people who say they'd sell their soul to be rich and famous. But for Maddie Wright, that dream was about to become a reality.
Chapter 1
Everyone always tells me I'm shy. But I'm not. Not really. The thing is, I've got a secret. Something no one can ever see on the surface. I keep my secrets deep within my soul, where they're safe. No one can ever see the secrets that hide within a person's soul.
At least, not until I met the man who wanted to claim my soul for himself.
I worked at a little vegan cafe in South Jersey, called Demeter's Harvest. It was okay work, nothing special, but it paid the bills and I got free meals when I was on the clock. That was about all I could ask for. I hadn't gone to college or anything, so this was pretty much it for me. Or so I thought.
My friend Lydia came into the cafe one day with news that would change my life. She had a big grin on her face and she looked happier than I'd ever seen her before. It probably had something to do with her rich boyfriend taking her out all the time and showing her the time of her life. I'd been jealous of their relationship since they first started dating.
“Maddie,” she said, leaning over the front counter and giving me a friendly kiss. “God, I haven't seen you in forever. And boy, have I got news for you.”
“Hey, Lydia,” I said, giving her my tiny smile. My smile was one of the reasons people always called me shy. They seemed to think that big, booming smiles like Lydia's were the only way to show that you were an outgoing, fun-loving person. I just liked to keep things small. I could do that and still love to have a good time.
“How's things with Robert?” I asked her.
She bit her lower lip and her eyes rolled up in delight. “He's simply to die for,” she said. “And actually, that's kind of why I'm here.”
My face scrunched up as I tried to figure out what Lydia was up to. I hadn't seen her much since she'd stopped working here a few months ago. Her new boyfriend was taking care of her now. It must have been nice, I thought, having someone to take care of the bills so you could enjoy yourself all day. Though something in Lydia's eyes told me there was more to their relationship than that.
“Is Robert okay?” I asked, hoping she hadn't come here with bad news. Though she was smiling so much that I knew it couldn't be bad. “What's up?”
She stepped behind the counter, which was technically against the rules since she didn't work here anymore, but the manager was in the back, so I didn't care. “He's fine. We're great.” She put her hands on my shoulders, grinning at me. “And he's got a friend.”
I was sure Robert had plenty of friends, but I didn't see what that had to do with me. “Okay?” I said, waiting patiently for Lydia to continue. Another reason people tell me I'm shy is because I don't usually ask a lot of questions. They think it means I'm not bold, or something. But really, it's just because I know people will tell their stories at their own pace. Sometimes you just have to wait, and let them tell it.
“A friend for you, silly.” She ruffled my hair, which I hated. I kept my black hair cut short, above the ears, because it was easier that way. It made people treat me like I was some adorable little kid, instead of a grown woman. Maybe it was the bangs. Sometimes I thought about cutting them off, but I liked them. People always told me they were adorable.
I hate being called adorable.
“A friend for...oh. Oh no.” I shook my head, backing away from Lydia. “You're not trying to set me up, are you?”
Lydia pouted at me. “There's no need to be so shy. He's a great guy.”
Hint: I hate being called shy too.
“I'm not shy,” I protested. “I just don't think...I mean it's just that...I'm not really...”
Lydia followed me as I backed away, until she had me pinned against the prep station. “Maddie, I'm not taking any excuses. It's time to get you out of your shell. Believe me when I tell you that this guy is going to change your life.”
If she'd known my secret, she wouldn't have been trying to set me up with a boyfriend. She would have been trying to use Robert's connections to make me rich and famous. I didn't want to be famous. Well, maybe part of me did. A secret part. Of course, sometimes
you don't end up with any choice in the matter.
“I don't need to be hanging on the arm of some rich guy...” I looked away, brushing my bangs out of my face.
“He's not rich,” Lydia said. She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Well, he's not exactly poor, either. But I'm not hooking you up with a millionaire or something. He's just...well, just trust me. When you meet him, you'll see.”
I peered at Lydia from under my bangs. I was trying to come up with an excuse for getting out of this blind date she was about to force on me. I got lucky when a customer walked in the door. Lydia hung back and waited while I took the customer's order and worked on fixing up their salad. I tried to ignore her, standing there, but I could see how eager she was. I kept catching glimpses of her out of the corner of my eye, bouncing up and down on her toes while she waited for the customer to leave.
When I finished with the customer and handed them their change, Lydia rushed over to me, picking up right where she'd left off. “You have to meet him. Remember how you always used to talk about wanting to meet someone? About how nice it would feel to find someone who really desired you?”
I kept my eyes on the ground. It was more complicated than that, but I had to admit that Lydia had a point. I hadn't dated anyone in a long time. Most of the men I'd known just wanted sex, parties, and plenty of beer. That wasn't my idea of romance, and I'd mostly given up on the whole dating scene for so long that I wasn't sure I even remembered how to flirt. My attempts at flirting were really just being awkward at someone until they either got annoyed with me or decided that it was cute.
“I guess,” I said. Yet another reason people thought I was shy: I could be so noncommittal. But really, that was just because I didn't like hurting people's feelings. Lydia wasn't used to people turning her down. And she tended to keep pushing until she got her way.
“Listen, sweetie.” She sat down on the counter and took my hands in hers. “I'm not asking you to marry the guy. Just to meet him. For coffee.”
“I don't drink coffee.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “For tea, then. Or apple juice. Whatever! Just give the man an hour to sit down with you and show you that he's a charming, witty, and very sweet guy.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to find a way out of this. It wasn't that I was scared. Not really. Well, maybe. Just a little.
And I was just a little bit out of excuses.
“All right,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“Yes!” Lydia hopped down off the counter and gave me a hug. “I'll give him your number. Trust me, girl, this is going to be the one that changes your life!”
I doubt she knew at the time just how much that would turn out to be true. Though my life was about to change in a way that had nothing to do with dating.
My secret was about to be exposed. And before I knew it, the entire world would know what it was.
Chapter 2
After work that night I went to this little place downtown called Grace's Goodies, where they served coffee, tea, drinks, and fresh-baked goods. It wasn't quite a bar or a coffee shop. More of a lounge. It was filled with sofas and comfortable chairs, and there was a tiny stage at one end where people sang, played music, or held poetry readings. Tonight was Open Mic Night, which was always an entertaining experience.
I got a mug of hot cocoa bigger than my two hands put together and settled into a Papasan chair with my legs curled under me. A waitress came around handing out cocktail sandwiches and little spiced meatballs served on toothpicks. The owner loved cooking and always made too much, so there were always some freebies to be had. I took a few to munch on while waiting for the music to start; I might have worked in a vegan cafe, but that didn't mean I didn't eat meat. It was just a job, after all.
The lights dimmed when the first performer stepped up to the mic. He was young, probably a college kid, and kinda cute in that disheveled hipster way with his thick-framed black glasses. He started singing a somewhat croaky version of “Call Me Maybe,” and I could tell right away that he'd never taken a singing lesson in his life. He had heart, and he seemed really determined to be up there and prove himself, but he couldn't hold a note to save his life.
While I was sitting there, the lounge's owner came over and sat next to me on a big old rattan chair. It clashed with the furniture nearby, but then, everything here clashed. Grace bought everything secondhand, and insisted on her club's furniture having a sense of history and personality, rather than anything close to an aesthetic appeal. She watched the boy on stage for a few moments before she turned to me and asked, “So are you going on tonight?”
I shrank into my seat, trying to hide my face behind my mug of cocoa. I peeked at her through the loop of the mug's handle. “No. Maybe. I don't know. I'm no good.”
“Yes you are, girl,” she said, reaching over to pat my knee. “Good enough to be professional, I always tell you that. I don't know why you can't see that.”
Grace was one of the few people who knew my secret. I loved to sing. Not just sing, but perform. I posted YouTube videos online three days a week, though I kept them under an anonymous account and never showed my face. A few of my videos had gone viral and picked up millions of hits. Since the videos always showed me from the neck down, with only my torso and my acoustic guitar in view, I'd become known as The Faceless Soprano. I'd liked the name so much that I'd made it my YouTube handle. I even had @FacelessSoprano as my anonymous Twitter username.
Grace was sworn to secrecy never to reveal my identity to anyone. But the price for her silence was that I perform at her club whenever I could get the courage up. Not that she was blackmailing me in order to keep her mouth shut. She just begged me to go on stage every chance she got.
“It's easier behind the camera,” I said, staring into my mug. “The camera doesn't judge me.”
“You're telling me the commenters on YouTube never judge?” Grace asked. “I know they can get nasty all the time.”
“I don't read the comments. But when I perform live, I have to see the looks on people's faces.”
“And they love you.”
“Not all of them.” I sighed and looked away. We'd had this conversation a hundred times. Sometimes I believed her. Most of the time I figured she was being nice and flattering me. Once she'd tried to argue that there was no way I could get millions of hits on some of my videos, almost fifty million on my most popular original single, without being an amazing singer. I had countered by saying that the Numa Numa guy had one of the most popular videos ever, and he was just some chubby guy singing in his bedroom.
“I won't force you,” Grace said, patting my knee. “But I penciled you into the sign-on sheet, if you change your mind.”
I groaned and leaned back, banging my head against the wooden rim above the chair's cushion. If Grace had actually written me into the lineup, I'd be too guilty to back out. I sighed and set down my mug, then trudged out to my car to fetch my guitar from the backseat. It probably said something about me that I never came to Grace's without bringing the guitar, even though I tried to get out of performing after I was here.
About thirty minutes later, following a few other performers, I sat on a stool in the center of the tiny stage, holding my guitar across my lap. The microphone sat in front of me, glaring at me like the devil in a Charlie Daniels song. I looked around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. There were only a few dozen people in the club; I'd never seen more than a hundred in here on the busiest day. Those few dozen people might as well have been a crowded stadium, for all the butterflies in my stomach could tell.
I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. I leaned towards the microphone and whispered, “This is a song...I...”
I stopped and took another breath. Somewhere in the room, someone coughed. I closed my eyes. It was easier to pretend no one was watching me if I sang with my eyes closed.
I centered myself, tuning out the sounds of the room. The words of the song came to my mind
. I started bobbing slightly with the rhythm of the beat, even before I started playing it.
“I wrote this song,” I said, my voice calmer. “It's about dogs. I...I like dogs.”
A few people laughed. Then they grew quiet as I started to play a simple beat on my guitar. I kept my breathing under control and the muscles in my diaphragm taut. Then the words started pouring out, and I was in that place that lasts only for those scant few moments from the beginning of the first note until the last chord died out at the end. I was a performer, and this was my song.
It wasn't really about dogs. But it was. A lone puppy, a runt, left alone in the rain. Kicked in the mud, left to starve, nothing but a stray. Man's best friend without a man as his friend. I thought I heard a few sympathetic sighs from the people listening, but I tuned them out. There was only me and the song, and I was coming to the crescendo.
My voice rose as I sang about watching the greyhound racers, the show dogs, the dalmatians in their firehouses. Eyes tracking a frisbee in the park, destined to be caught by another set of teeth. Seeing a child scratch her pet behind the ears, and feeling an itch of his own that no one would scratch.
“But I...am just...a mutt,” I sang, my voice growing softer and the guitar's sound fading away. “A mutt who's been down...on her luck.”
The room was silent when I finished. I opened my eyes. Everyone was watching me. In the dimmed lighting I couldn't tell what look was on their faces. The lights over the stage glared down at me, making it hard to make out details. The silence stretched out for a long moment, until a polite applause sounded throughout the room.
It made me think that maybe they'd liked it. But then, they'd clapped for “Call Me Maybe” guy, too.
I got up, keeping my eyes down. But before I left the stage, someone in the audience caught my eye. I looked up, trying to blink away the glare from the overhead lights. All I could make out was a figure wrapped in shadows, seated on a small sofa in the far back corner. His eyes were like a pair of black agates set deep in an oval face, staring at me without blinking. Below those eyes I thought I caught a hint of a smile on a dark pair of lips.
