With one sparkly high heel on the red carpet, I took Édouard’s outstretched hand, pushed Madame Bouchard’s haunting last statement from my mind, and made a silent promise to my baby that I would never let anyone take her away from me.
And so, with my dashing husband by my side and my baby girl kicking up a storm inside my belly, this happy little family who’d traveled so far to be together worked the red carpet like no other. And when the camera flashes died down, we settled in to watch a bold, heartwarming tale set in the heart of 1950s Paris, about two soul mates who would stop at nothing to be together, and the unbreakable ties that carried them from one life into the next, and back again.
As the opening credits rolled over a breathtaking nighttime view of Paris and Peggy Lee’s “Fever” filled up the darkened theater, I thought of Ruby and how she would’ve adored the title…There’s No Place Like Paris.
Applause thundered through the theater as the film, which was dearer to my heart than anyone could’ve possibly understood, came to a close.
Édouard turned to me and wiped a tear from my cheek, his smoky-gray eyes dancing over my face. “It was magnifique, was it not?”
I nodded, unable to get a single word past my lips, the emotions from seeing my past-life experience on screen almost too much to bear…and if I was being honest with myself, Madame Bouchard’s words were still swimming through my head, threatening to swallow me whole. Had other women in my family traveled back in time to their own past lives? Would my daughter one day be expected to do the same?
“I have a present for you.” Édouard interrupted my frantic thoughts as he pulled a red velvet box from inside his coat pocket.
“You didn’t have to—” I started, but the minute he placed the box in my hands, a familiar tingling sensation sparked underneath my skin. I opened the lid and gasped when my eyes met the ruby-red heart pendant that had just been dangling from Madame Bouchard’s fingers in the limo, only a few hours ago.
“It’s a ruby,” Édouard said, pulling the necklace from the box and clasping it around my neck. “And maybe one day when she’s old enough, you can pass it along to our little Ruby.”
Running my tingling fingers over the beautiful stone, I smiled back at the man who I adored more than life itself, the man who I had loved longer than he would ever comprehend. And instead of telling him that our daughter would never wear this necklace, I sent a silent message to Madame Bouchard, letting her know that no matter what tricks she had up her sleeve, our little Ruby would never be taking a voyage like the one we’d just watched on screen…not if I had anything to say about it.
Once I’d passed along my silent warning, I turned to my sweet, handsome husband and pushed all worries out of my mind. “It’s stunning, Édouard. Thank you so much.”
Édouard leaned in, sliding an arm around my waist. “It is gorgeous, but nothing could ever outshine you, mon amour.”
Then, in the middle of the crowded, buzzing theater, my man, the love of my life, gave me the kiss to end all kisses—a toe-curling, butterfly-inducing, electrifying, heart-swelling kiss.
When our lips finally parted, a sultry grin spread over his sexy face before he winked at me. “Don’t worry, ma belle, there is plenty more where that came from.”
I wrapped my hands around his neck, running my fingers through his thick, wavy head of hair. And before I kissed him one more time, I whispered in his ear, “There better be.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am forever grateful to the amazing team of people who helped me bring this story to life. To my agent, Kevan Lyon, and my editors, Kelli Martin and Andrea Hurst. Each of you has inspired me to write better, dig deeper, and make this story more unique and exciting than I ever could’ve hoped it would be. Thank you a million times over for your passion and enthusiasm for this novel. And to the team at Montlake Romance, I am so thankful for everything you’ve done to bring Dancing with Paris to my readers.
To my talented critique partners, Karen, Sharon, Mary, Alison, Tracy, and Marion. Your help with this novel was invaluable, and your support through this wild writing journey keeps me smiling. Special thanks to Alison for flying to France with me at a moment’s notice and for our fabulous brainstorming sessions over croissants.
I would like to thank my husband for listening to me talk about my characters as if they are actually real people, and for loving me anyway. To my mom, thank you for always encouraging me to dream. Those dreams have become my stories. And to my Grandma Martha, thank you for inspiring me to write the character of Titine. I think the two of you would’ve been great friends.
Finally, my stories wouldn’t have a home if not for my loyal readers. I write these books for you, and I am immensely grateful for your support and for your belief in my work. Paris is an endless source of inspiration, so there will be many more novels to come!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Juliette Sobanet earned a BA from Georgetown University and an MA from New York University in France, living and studying in both Lyon and Paris. She worked as a French professor before turning a new page in her career, penning romantic women’s fiction with a French twist. Today she lives with her husband and two cats in San Diego, where she devotes her time to writing and dreaming about her next trip to France.
Dancing with Paris (A Paris Time Travel Romance) Page 31
