BUTTERFLY: A Standalone Romantic Suspense

by Nelle L’Amour

  Dearest Reader~

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading Butterfly. I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it. It would mean the world to me if you left a review. Be it on Goodreads or Amazon or best of all, both. It can be as short or as long as you please. Reviews, regardless of length, help others find my books.

  GOODREADS LINK

  eBook LINK

  PAPERBACK LINK: To Come

  Also, please let your reader groups and friends know how much you loved the book. There’s nothing like word of mouth! Yet another great way of spreading the word is by recommending the book on BookBub.

  BOOKBUB LINK

  Butterfly was born from my own love for the exquisite winged creatures. They’ve always had a special place in my heart. When I was little, my sister and I found a caterpillar and we watched it hatch into a beautiful Monarch butterfly. We named him Buddy and he is the inspiration for Sofi’s Buddy. He lived in our house beyond his life expectation, gnawing on flowers my mom left on the kitchen table. Once he got stuck behind the refrigerator. My sister and I were hysterical and my mom had to call the repairman to move the fridge. When he died, we were heartbroken, but he’s always lived in my heart.

  As an adult, I had the experience of rescuing a Yellow Swallowtail, who was trapped in a spider’s web and being attacked by a menacing bumblebee. It was horrifying. Deathly afraid of bees, I found a stick and worked up the courage to free the butterfly. As it flew off, I said to myself fate is not a fait accompli. Magically, my own fate changed that day, and after a bout of debilitating unemployment, I was offered my dream job in television production. The rest is history.

  And magically, in the middle of writing this book, there was a mass migration of butterflies in Los Angeles. I sat at my computer typing away while outside my window butterflies were dancing everywhere. It was a spectacular sight to behold.

  I’ve created a Butterfly Pinterest board. I encourage you to visit it as it will bring many elements of the book alive and enable you to see more of the inspiration for Sofi and Roman’s love story. Here’s the link:

  PINTEREST

  A lot of research went into this book, learning about various butterfly species. There are many online articles available if you want to learn more about them. And if you ever have the chance to go to a butterfly conservatory, don’t miss it. It’s a magical experience. I’ve been to both the one at NYC’s American Museum of Natural History and LA’s Museum of Natural History. If you’re lucky, a butterfly will land on you! And you may just see a Luna!

  They say butterflies are magical and I believe that. I would love to hear your stories of how a butterfly touched your life. Send them me to at nellelamour@gmail.com. I can’t wait to read them! Even if you don’t have a story, feel free to drop me a line. I LOVE to hear from my readers and always personally respond.

  If you loved Butterfly and would like to read other books I’ve written, please click here:

  NELLE’S BOOKS

  I’m including the first two chapters of Trainwreck. Like Butterfly, it’s a steamy romantic suspense with an alpha hero and sassy heroine. And a twist you won’t see coming. I promise you will fall in love with Sarah and Ari!

  Until my next book, wishing you all good health and lots of love. Always remember, you are the reason I write.

  With all my love and appreciation . . .

  MWAH! ~ Nelle ♥

  Trainwreck

  Chapter 1

  Ari

  I was at 30th Street Station early, something that was unusual for me. It was a three-day holiday weekend so I’d shut down my office early, letting my hard-working employees get a head start on some rest and relaxation with their families and friends. They deserved the time off.

  I soaked in my surroundings. I knew this place like the back of my hand, having commuted to and from it from Manhattan for over seven years. Many thought I was nuts to make the ninety-five-mile commute almost daily and told me I should move my company to the city or I should move to Philly. I had thought about it a few times, but it was out of the question. The company, started by my father, had originated in Philadelphia and that’s where it would stay. I loved living in Manhattan and that’s where I would stay. Besides, I enjoyed the commute and truthfully it wasn’t too bad—just a little over an hour and a half each way. The morning ride in business class was productive, letting me catch up on all my emails. And after a long day at the office, the ride home was relaxing. I could read a newspaper and unwind with a cold bottle of beer. And sometimes I could catch up on a little sleep.

  After buying a Wall Street Journal, I hung out on the VIP mezzanine, waiting for my train to be called. It was a great place to people watch, something I enjoyed doing. The onset of rush hour, the station below was bustling with people from all walks of life, young and old, and representing a broad spectrum of ethnicities. As I surveyed the comings and goings of the crowd, my heart did a little flip.

  Ah! There she was, looking more frantic than usual. That mysterious girl. I’d seen her here several times before, always sitting on a bench and what looked to be drawing in a sketchpad. Today, she was racing through the busy station.

  My eyes followed her, taking mental snapshots, though I’d captured her once on my cell phone. This was the first time I’d ever seen her standing up. She was tall, in fact, taller than I’d imagined. Maybe five nine or ten. Her body was a gaggle of spindly arms and legs, her clunky boots making her legs look skinnier and longer. Her long, loose-fitting skirt came below her knees, but by her gait, I knew she must have a pair of lightning-fast, colt-like legs. Her long dark hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, which made her look younger than what I assumed was twenty-something. A large canvas bag with worn leather fittings was slung over her shoulders and flew behind her as she galloped through the station. She was so not my chic blond supermodel type, but there was something about her I found interesting. And so sexy. As usual, at the sight of her, my cock flexed beneath my slacks as I fantasized about undressing her.

  Perched high above her, I kept my gaze on her as she scurried about. What would it be like to fuck her? Would she like it hard? Scream when she came? Come again and again? For a split-second, I thought her eyes met mine. The call for my train diverted my attention, interrupting my lustful thoughts, and I headed for the platform, her body and face etched in my mind. Maybe one of these days, I’d encounter her again and find out who she was. My cock twitched at the possibility.

  Chapter 2

  Sarah

  I was going to miss my train! That was all I could think of as I dashed through Philadelphia’s majestic 30th Street Station. Totally disheveled. A total trainwreck, no pun intended.

  My best friend, Lauren, with all her connections, had scored a bunch of coveted tickets to a Black Eyed Peas concert in Central Park, and I was among those she had chosen to be part of her entourage so I had to be home by seven, shower, and get dressed. I rushed past the tempting food court toward the information center. The old-fashioned, flip-letter Amtrak schedule board made a ticking sound as it updated arrivals and departures. I glanced up. Shit! My train to Penn Station was leaving in five minutes from Gate 5. My eyes darted around the high-ceiling Art Deco station for the escalator leading down to the train platforms. Usually, I took the cheap, smelly Chinatown express bus to Philadelphia to visit my mother, but today was one of the few exceptions because of the concert. Despite the fact I’d been in this vast station a few times before, I never knew where I was going. My sense of direction was nothing to be proud of.

  My eyes bounced from the famous Angel of the Resurrection statue to another bronzed statue. A god. An over six-foot tall, golden-haired Adonis leaning seductively against the railing of the VIP mezzanine. Even from this distant vantage point, I could tell he was wearing one of those super-expensive, custom-tailored beige suits that New York’s tycoons donned once spring hit. It made a stunning contrast with his St. Tropez tan, the kind wealthy Manhattanites sported all year round.
With his designer sunglasses perched on his perfectly blown flaxen hair, he looked like he was straight out of GQ.

  I couldn’t get my eyes off him. The sight of him made my knees weak and my heart hammer. I had dreamt about men like this, but the reality of ever meeting one was not within my grasp. I was a geeky, relatively recent college grad, who, after several false starts, had finally landed an entry-level job at Ike’s Tikes, an established New York City toy company, and was struggling to make ends meet. Beautiful men were just not in the cards. They never had been. But my mom had always told me it was okay to dream, so for a minute, as Adonis pivoted his head in my direction, I imagined his eyes burning across the station into mine.

  A booming voice put an end to my reverie—and the hot pulsating sensation thrumming between my legs. “Last call for Amtrak 148 to Penn Station boarding at Gate 5.”

  In the blink of an eye, Adonis was gone. Out of my life and dreams forever. My pulse accelerated as my eyes flitted around the vast station for the gate sign. Finally, I found it and began to run, my messenger-style canvas bag flying behind me. The escalator descending to the train platform was out of order. Thank goodness, I was wearing my trusty combat boots. At breakneck speed, I clambered down the daunting three flights of stairs, praying that the train wouldn’t leave without me.

  “Wait!” I screamed as the automatic doors of the sleek silver train were closing. I skimmed through one of them, narrowly missing being a smooshed sardine.

  Breathing heavily, I staggered through the car, desperately searching for a seat. Nothing. It was rush hour and every seat was taken. Maybe I would have better luck in the next car, I thought as I wobbled across the connecting bridge, the train rolling into motion. I so needed to sit down, catch my breath, and relax. I was exhausted and rundown. Not just from my sprint to the train, but from weeks of juggling my Manhattan-based job as the assistant to a demanding female executive with visits to my ailing mother, who was receiving experimental cancer treatments at the University of Pennsylvania’s world-renowned hospital. Seeing my mother in her weakened state, hooked up to IVs and monitors, never helped no matter how cheery she was when I came to see her.

  As the train picked up speed, I struggled to keep my balance and open the sliding door to the next car. Using all the muscle power I could muster, I finally yanked it open and stumbled into the cabin. This car was different than the one before. It was far more spacious and deluxe. Roomy pairs of rich brown leather seats lined the aisles, and the well-dressed occupants were sipping cocktails in real glasses while toying with the latest electronic gadgets. This was obviously business-class. I sure as hell did not belong here wearing my T.J. Maxx midi skirt and cheap T-shirt. Oh yeah, and my scuffed up boots, which I’d found at a flea market. This was the cabin where Louis Vuittons, Jimmy Choos, and Chanels mingled with other LVs, Choos, and Cocos. No, I didn’t belong here. Not one bit.

  Fighting the speed of the train and my embarrassment, I clumsily zigzagged down the aisle, occasionally grabbing onto the corner of a seat for balance. Like the previous cabin, every seat was taken. No one seemed to notice me, but truthfully, I wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. As I neared the back of the car, the train jerked, sending me flying into the lap of a Wall Street Journal-reading commuter to my left.

  “I’m so sorry,” I squeaked at my victim, whose face was still buried in his newspaper.

  He flexed his powerful thigh muscles under my butt, signaling for me to get up, and then slowly lowered his newspaper. A smirk curled on his lips. Oh, those lips! My heart leaped into my throat. Adonis!

  “Sit,” he said, motioning to the empty window seat next to his.

  “Um, uh, I’m in economy,” I stuttered, my eyes unable to leave his face, no matter how humiliated I felt. Up close, he was even more beautiful than I imagined with his chiseled nose, strong, angular jaw, and piercing eyes the color of sapphires.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll handle it,” he replied with a wink.

  Holy shit! Adonis had just winked at me!

  “Sit,” he growled, this time as if it were an order.

  With a powerful heave of his knees, he bounced me to my feet, forcing me to plop down next to him.

  Holy shit again! I was going to spend the next hour and a half sitting next to this gorgeous man—a man that existed only in my dreams—and now I had no idea what to say. My heart pounded.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, his tone challenging.

  “Sarah,” I replied, pulling myself together in time to reply in a very business-like voice.

  “Saarah.”

  The sultry way he repeated my name—drawing out the first syllable with a breathy lilt—sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t help thinking of my favorite song from my favorite movie, West Side Story. Say it soft and it’s almost like praying.

  “Ari,” he said next, not giving me time to ask the obvious.

  A fitting name. Almost like Ares, the Greek god of war. This man was a warrior. A beautiful warrior. And I was soon to find out that conquest was his middle name.

  “Um, very nice to meet you.”

  I held out my slender hand to shake his. My heart thudding in my chest, I truthfully didn’t know what else to say or do. His long, tan fingers entwined with mine. His grip was strong. Powerful. Slowly, he raised my hand to his lush lips. Blood rushed to my head as they pressed ever so gently against the back of my palm. One by one, he unfolded my fingers, sucking each one as if they were candy sticks. A layer of his warm saliva glistened on my fingertips. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and wetness pooled between my thighs. What the hell was he doing? And why the hell was I letting him do it?

  My heart was racing as fast as the speeding train. I needed to stop this. Move to another seat. My eyes darted around the cabin, but there were still none to be had. No one seemed to notice what was going on; they either had their faces buried in newspapers or books or were occupied with their iPhones, iPads, or Kindles.

  This was just not right. I was sitting next to a complete stranger and letting him suck my fingers. He could be a total whack job. . . molester . . . or serial killer. Who knew? Though my fear was fleeting, I made up a desperate clichéd excuse.

  “Um, uh excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” Actually, I really did. I needed to get away from this mysterious, seductive stranger and get a grip.

  “It’s at the front of the cabin,” said Adonis dryly, returning to his newspaper.

  I leaped up from my seat. Tripping over my bag, I caught a glimpse of Trainman’s amused expression. He refused to move his long legs, forcing my butt to brush against them as I made my escape. I couldn’t get to the bathroom soon enough or fast enough.

  CLICK HERE TO READ MORE OF SARAH AND ARI’S PASSIONATE LOVE STORY!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It takes a lot of “butterflies” to hatch a book . . . to bring it from the chrysalis stage and have it fly into the world. A huge thank you to the following:

  My belle betas for all your love and support! In alphabetical order: Marti Jentis, Jill Johnson, Kristen Myers, Ilene Rosen, Mary Jo Toth, Lisa Sanders, and Joanna Halliday-Warren.

  My amazing cover designer, Arijana Karčić.

  My ever so talented teaser designer, Hayfaah S.

  My eagle-eye proofreaders, Virginia Tesi Carey and Judy/Judy’s Proofreading

  My forever patient formatter, Paul Salvette/BBebooks.

  My lovely, always there for me assistant, Kelly Green.

  My PR company, Wildfire Marketing and especially Amanda Anderson.

  My blog tour operator, Ena Burnette/Enticing Journey

  My webmaster, Christina Haas, who does so much for me.

  My dear writer friend, Freida McFadden, for her blurb magic.

  My A-Team: My treasured group of supportive writer friends whose names all start with the letter “A”: Aubrey Bondurant, Auden Dar, A.M. Hargrove, Adriane Leigh, Angel Payne, Arianne Richmonde, and Aleatha Romig. I love you all!

  My fami
ly for putting up with me and affording me the opportunity to write. I love you hard!

  And last but not least, YOU, my belle readers! Your love and support make it all possible!

  Stay well all!

  MWAH! ~ Nelle ♥

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I am a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Los Angeles with her Prince Charming-ish husband and a bevy of royal pain-in-the-butt pets. Our twin college-grad princesses have abandoned our palace.

  A former executive in the entertainment industry with a prestigious Humanitas Prize for promoting human dignity and freedom to my credit, I gave up playing with Barbies a long time ago, but I still enjoy playing with toys with my hubby. While I write in my pj’s, I love to get dressed up and pretend I’m Hollywood royalty. My steamy stories feature characters that will make you laugh, cry, and swoon and stay in your heart forever. They’re often inspired by my past life.

  To learn about my new releases, sales, and giveaways, please sign up for my newsletter, join my Facebook reader group, Nelle’s Belles, and follow me on social media. I love to hear from my readers.

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  BOOKS BY NELLE L’AMOUR

  Click on the covers to read about them and/or purchase.

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