by JB Schroeder
11923 NE Sumner St., Ste 843916
Portland, Oregon 97220
Xanadu XOXO © 2020 by JB Schroeder, LLC
Ticket to True Love © 2019 by JB Schroeder, LLC
Series Branding, Logos, and Covers © 2019 by Julie Schroeder Designs
www.jbschroederauthor.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. 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 publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover photograph credits go to HayDmitriy / deposit photos and 2mmedia / deposit photos
Digital Edition 1.0
ISBN-13: 978-1-943561-12-4
Created with Vellum
Contents
A Note about This Story
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
JB’s Romantic Suspense
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To Derek
~
Your passion and focus inspire me.
To 2050 and beyond.
A Note about This Story
At some point around my fifth or sixth book, I realized it was far easier to keep track of a story timeline if I followed a real calendar.
At the end of Good Vibes at the Vine, Jonah visits Vine to commiserate with Jeremy: a woman is ripping his building out from under him—a gorgeous woman he has history with and desperately wants. That was the setup for Xanadu XOXO, which meant it, too, needed to follow the 2019-to-2020 calendar.
Of course, by the time Darcy and Jeremy’s True Springs wedding occurs in this book, the real 2020 world had already come face to face with the COVID-19 pandemic. The bulk of this story, in fact, was written during our own New Jersey isolation orders.
I’m penning this note on Day 23 of isolation, when I’m just about to write those wedding scenes, so I woke up thinking about the timing. I’m luckier than most. So far, I’m still working the day job from home, my family and friends are still safe, and we still have enough to eat—and yes, enough toilet paper, too.
I considered having my characters deal with real life—Rita having to postpone her big trip and close the diner, Jonah and Kalpani being forced to stay apart—or together—for weeks or months, no one able to grasp hands or kiss or visit—but I prefer for my books to provide an escape. Some realism—real emotions, real struggles, but ones that are surmountable, ones that love and the right partner might just aid in fixing.
Right now, in real life, many will not be able to escape this nightmare at all, their lives changed forever. I’m as scared and stressed as the next person, aware that everything could change in an instant. If I were writing one of my darker romantic suspense novels? I’m not sure I could even put words on the screen. For my kids and for my sanity, I have to keep some balance. Nothing too dark, not too much news, not too much reality.
I’ve always gravitated to romance novels as an escape, and writing lighthearted ones is no different. This story has provided me some relief with which I could block out the real world for hours. I pray, dear readers, that you escape, too—both in books and from reality.
So, yes, I’m letting Kalpani and Jonah skip real life. And, of course, they are guaranteed a happy ending, too.
1
The bell above the Print & Ship’s door wasn’t enough to pull Jonah Walker’s attention from his creation on the oversized computer screen, but the lilt of Indian voices made his head jolt up.
It wasn’t Sohel, of course. The old man had died just a week and a half ago, but the funeral hadn’t been held yet, so it was hard to even believe he was truly gone. Sohel’s presence in this shop had been such a constant over the years, and his influence on Jonah had been nearly as strong as that of his own father. Jonah wavered between denial and missing Sohel like hell. It didn’t help that Jonah had lost his father less than a year ago and had barely come to terms with that.
These visitors were a man and a woman. Sohel’s shop—now Jonah’s—was a full-service print shop and shipping outlet. Sohel, with Jonah’s help in his later years, had done it all: from scanning documents to designing business cards, from xeroxing copies to printing large-scale banners, from selling packing tape to shipping internationally. With all the recent changes in technology, some of their services were rarely sought out these days, while others would likely always be needed. More and more lately, however, it was common for folks to poke their heads in to ask about the art in the window.
This young, well-dressed couple wasn’t even looking at Jonah, however.
Their backs were to him and they were chatting among themselves in what Jonah thought of as Inglish—half Indian and half English. What were they doing? Inspecting the ceiling and the walls?
Jonah stood and approached the counter before clearing his throat. “Can I help you?”
The couple turned and—
Whoa. Jonah’s heart thumped hard even as his body tensed. Because standing in front of him was the woman he’d kissed—like, a whole year ago—and hadn’t been able to get out of his mind since.
“Jonah, isn’t it?”
Excellent. She apparently hadn’t suffered the same fate, if she wasn’t even sure of his name.
He nodded. “Kalpani,” he said, trying to avoid any inflection. He’d loved the way her name rolled off his lips. He’d said it over and over again that night. As he kissed her neck, her jaw, her lips… She’d been dressed in a traditional sari then, whereas now she wore skinny black pants, a hot-pink blouse, short-heeled boots, and a tailored, nubby winter coat. She was no less gorgeous.
Jonah came around the counter and approached them. “I’m sorry about Sohel. I understand the funeral is Friday.”
“Thanks. Condolences to you as well.” Her dark eyes darted away. “Yes. And there’s a luncheon after at the community center.”
The very same community center they’d snuck out back of to make out like teenagers and talk until morning. Hadn’t mattered that he was twenty-seven—he’d just wanted to get the long-haired, petite beauty with the mischievous eyes and kissable lips alone.
“This is my cousin, Ajay,” Kalpani said.
Ajay nodded, but his smile was fake. He pulled a business card from the back pocket of his fitted slacks and extended it to Jonah with two fingers, then he rocked back on his shiny shoes and shoved his thumbs in his pockets.
Jonah looked at the card. Dude was a real estate agent. Nice. Jonah had just finally come into owning something—the first thing ever, and it just happened to be a prime piece of property in the ’burgh’s hopping Strip District—and already the vultures were circling.
“I’m not interested in selling,” Jonah said, and extended the card back to Ajay.
His e
yebrows rose, but Kalpani’s mouth dropped open.
She said, “Excuse me?”
Ajay hadn’t taken the card, so Jonah let it fall to the floor. He crossed his arms. “You heard me.”
“But what do you mean?” she said.
“Just what I said. I’m not selling. So you and your cousin can stop eyeballing my building and go find some other listing and client to harass.”
If possible, Kalpani’s jaw dropped further.
Ajay gave him a placating smile. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. This building is for sale. I’m representing it—”
What the fuck? “Like hell—”
“Wait,” Kalpani said, throwing a hand out. “Didn’t Uncle Sohel’s lawyer contact you?”
Kalpani wasn’t directly related to Sohel, but all the elder men in her culture were referred to as uncles by the younger generations, related or not. Even as Jonah’s mind darted through the labyrinth of Sohel’s network of family and friends, a sinking feeling settled in his gut.
“No. Sohel’s not even buried yet, remember?” Jonah uncrossed his arms—subconsciously needing them free, bracing for a fight.
Kalpani shut her eyes and shook her head. She sucked in a deep breath and pinned him with a hard, heated look—an entirely different kind of heat than she’d graced him with last year, when her hands had slid into his hair and she’d pulled his head down for a mind-melting lip-lock.
“Uncle Sohel’s estate—in its entirety—was left to his family.”
Jonah blinked rapidly as if moving his eyelids would make sense of that statement. “No,” he said. “No, he left the shop to me.”
She shook her head. “That’s simply untrue.”
“He showed me the will,” Jonah said, probably too loud.
“Look,” Kalpani said, her nostrils flaring, “I don’t know what you are trying to pull, but you can cut the bullshit right now. The Gupta family now owns this property, they’ve asked Ajay to sell it, and I will be buying it. Period.”
“Get out,” Jonah said.
The cousins stared at him.
“Get. Out.” Jonah lunged forward, and finally the duo burst into action, spinning away from him. Ajay put his arm around Kalpani as if to protect her as they hustled for the door.
The bell jangled happily even though they yanked the door hard. The sounds of pedestrian traffic flowed in as it swung shut ever so slowly.
Then Jonah was left with only the sounds of his own ragged breathing. Worse was the growing fear that despite all his hard work, dedication, and promises made, he’d just lost everything.
Kalpani hit the street nearly in shock. What she was most surprised about, however, she didn’t even know.
“Is Jonah trying to pull a fast one? Or is it possible that Uncle Sohel’s lawyer hasn’t even been in contact with him?”
Ajay shrugged. “He’s a nobody, so maybe—”
“To you, but he and Sohel were close. He’s obviously still running the Print & Ship. And apparently, he believes he owns the place.”
“There’s no way.”
“He says Sohel showed him the will.” She threw her hands up. “There better not be some alternate will out there.”
“There isn’t. Lawyers keep a very tight leash on these things.”
Kalpani narrowed her eyes. Ajay had always been a bit of a know-it-all, and yet, like her, he hadn’t gone the Ivy League college route in order to make his single-minded Indian parents proud. She and Ajay had wanting to buck the traditional and make their own way in common. “And you and your supposedly highest-grossing office are supposed to be topnotch. How is it that you haven’t been down here to preview this place and save me from that scene?”
“Because as our friend in there said, Sohel hasn’t been gone that long, and you were all fired up to get first dibs on the place.” He made a face at her—and she suddenly realized that working with someone you’d known since you were in diapers probably wasn’t going to make for a very professional relationship.
Kalpani scowled. “Damn straight I was. And I still am.” She just never imagined that the shop hadn’t been closed.
“You need to fix this,” she told him. “Fast. Because it’s mine.” It had to be, just had to. She needed this.
“I’m on it. That asshole will be out on the street in no time.”
Kalpani winced. Jonah wasn’t an asshole. If Jonah really believed Sohel had left him the building and business—and inexplicably, he seemed to—then he was just reeling and reacting. She felt for him because…well, that really sucked. Throwing them out seemed out of character. She’d believed him to be a nice, laid-back guy.
Heck, it was why she’d let down her guard with him—snuck out back the night of Sohel’s seventy-fifth birthday party to kiss and talk and laugh. He was cute and hot and funny—and she’d been insanely attracted to him. He’d been respectful, too. When their kisses and petting turned too hot, he suggested a walk around the neighborhood. And when they returned to the party, they’d gone right back to their spot under a big oak tree, snagging a blanket from her car and talking until the wee hours—long after the party had wrapped up. He’d mentioned he hoped to see her again soon. But she’d simply kissed him one last time and slipped away. She didn’t do relationships, so for her, that had to be that.
Ajay had his phone to his ear already.
“Try to be sensitive in your handling of this, okay?” Kalpani said. “Jonah’s in a bad spot through no fault of his own.”
Ajay rolled his eyes. “I’ll be professional. Like always.”
Kalpani blew out a breath. She hoped that didn’t mean heartless. She didn’t want Jonah hurt.
And yet she couldn’t let it matter that she’d cherished the hours she and Jonah had spent together. Or that she’d thought of him often, especially when she was in bed at night, alone and needy, remembering the warm look in his eyes, the gravelly sound of his voice, the sexy things he’d said when he’d kissed her.
Sohel’s place coming available was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up, right along with her friend Darcy’s newfound desire to invest in small local businesses. She’d never score a property this ideal for a price this low without her family’s connection to the Gupta family. She had planned to save for another couple of years, but this property was worth moving up her timeline and charging full steam ahead. With its prime location and her talent and drive, Xanadu—a name she’d picked years ago—would soon be the most happening salon in Pittsburgh.
It wasn’t about fame or fortune. Becoming successfully independent was personal, even essential—the only way she knew to ensure that she’d never fall into a trap like so many women of her culture. And becoming more pressing all the time: she’d be able to help her best friend—far more than she was able to help now.
There was no way she could let a brown-haired, green-eyed, broad-chested, jeans-wearing hottie get in her way.
2
The phone rang in the print shop, and when Jonah answered, a voice said, “Mr. Jonah Walker? This is Vyas Nath with Anders, Nath, and Jindal. I represent the estate of Sohel Gupta.”
What a surprise. Jonah gritted his teeth. Not even a few hours after Kalpani and her cousin had left.
Jonah put the attorney on hold. He needed to finish shipping Mrs. Wojtiski’s monthly care package to her granddaughter, who was serving in the Marines overseas. He used triple bubble wrap for the flaky Polish cookies, just like always, and today he wrapped them extra slow.
Jonah asked, “You think she shares these kolaczkis with her team or just hoards them?”
“A little of both, I imagine.” Mrs. Wojtiski smiled as she counted out change.
“I’m sending some safe wishes along with this, Mrs. W,” Jonah told her. He’d known the Wojtiskis forever. They’d been regular customers at his parents’ diner, The Wanderlust, since before he was born.
“You and me both,” she said, wrapping her official Steelers scarf around her neck. “You doing all right h
ere without Sohel?”
Jonah couldn’t help a sigh. “It’s surreal.”
She nodded. “I know. I felt the same when I came through that door. But he’d be glad to know you’re keeping the doors open, Jonah.”
Jonah nodded, but a heavy cloud of worry hung over him as he returned to the phone.
“All right, Mr. Nath. I’m free to talk now,” he told the attorney.
“I understand there’s been a misunderstanding about Sohel’s intentions, and I apologize for not contacting you sooner,” Nath said. “My clerk is on medical leave, so we’re a little scattered around here.”
Jonah wished he’d just cut to the chase—and then immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Mr. Walker, the deceased did not specify that any one portion of his assets be handled individually. The will leaves his estate in its entirety to his brother. You have no claim to the building or the business. In fact, if you are still running the business, you should stop.”
“But Sohel showed me the new will he’d had drawn up,” Jonah said. “After his heart attack. He asked me if I’d be willing to stay on and take over when he died. He was worried about his customers and didn’t want to let them down.” Jonah thought of Mrs. Wojtiski and all the other customers who’d been so loyal over the years. His chest felt tight and his temples throbbed. “I told him that it was too much—for him to leave me his business—but he insisted.”
