Chasing Romeo

by Sarah Ready

  Chasing Romeo

  Sarah Ready

  W.W. CROWN BOOKS

  An imprint of Swift & Lewis Publishing LLC

  www.wwcrown.com

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. All the characters and situations in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to situations or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locations are used fictitiously.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Ready

  Published by W.W. Crown Books an Imprint of Swift & Lewis Publishing, LLC, Lowell, MI USA

  Cover Illustration & Design: Elizabeth Turner Stokes

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020952893

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-07-9 (eBook)

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-08-6 (pbk)

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-09-3 (hbk)

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-20-8 (large print)

  Also by Sarah Ready

  The Fall in Love Checklist

  Hero Ever After

  * * *

  Find more books by Sarah Ready at:

  www.sarahready.com/romance-books

  * * *

  Sign up to receive bonus content, exclusive epilogues and more at: www.sarahready.com/newsletter

  She Finally Found her Soulmate. All 7 of them.

  A laugh out loud, soulmate chasing rom-com romp. Sarah Ready’s Chasing Romeo is a perfect feel-good novel about finding love where you least expect it.

  * * *

  Chloe Daniels is a starry-eyed romantic who believes in true love, soulmates and happily ever afters. So when a psychic predicts the identity of her soulmate Chloe will do anything to find him.

  * * *

  But there’s a tiny problem.

  * * *

  Chloe’s soulmate is 1 of 7 men, spread across the U.S. and she has only one week to reach him.

  * * *

  Out of desperation she hires Nick O’Shea, a cynical private investigator who thinks soulmates, love and happily ever afters are a load of crap.

  * * *

  Chloe and Nick have nothing in common. She wants her soulmate. He wants to get paid.

  * * *

  But on their crazy, true love chasing road trip across the U.S. Nick starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong about love, and Chloe starts to wonder if she was wrong about the identity of her Romeo.

  * * *

  Soon, Chloe will have to choose between her soulmate and the man she hired to find him.

  * * *

  Opposites attract in the first book of a heartwarming new series by romance author Sarah Ready.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Get A Bonus Epilogue For Chloe and Nick

  Also by Sarah Ready

  About the Author

  1

  Chloe

  * * *

  Every woman alive is given one man who is guaranteed to turn her life into a monument of suck. My one man is Nick O’Shea. Every time he shows up my life gets shaken upside down and spanked.

  “Untie me now, Sparky, or so help me God,” Nick says.

  I smile and ignore his god-awful nickname for me. This is the absolute best day of my life. I stand over him and soak in the feeling that all wrongs in the world are about to be righted.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Un. Tie. Me.” He strains against the zip ties on his wrists. I’m not going to lie, I get a flash of pleasure deep inside at his struggle.

  “Did you want some birthday cake? It’s chocolate, your favorite.” I wave a pink paper plate with a big slab of cake under his nose.

  Nick growls at me. Growls.

  My body reacts just like it did when I was fifteen and hopped up on hormones. Unconsciously I lean toward him. Enough of that. I pick up the plastic fork and shove a piece of cake in my mouth. The fudgy frosting’s thick, rich and, let’s be honest, delicious. “Mmmm. Good.”

  “Sparky…” he says. His voice is low and full of warning.

  “No. Nope. Not gonna,” I say.

  He looks different than he did in high school. Ten years in the military made him harder. At eighteen, his jaw was softer, his cheeks fuller…his eyes had more warmth. Now, not so much. There’s a half-inch-long scar over his right eyebrow that wasn’t there before. His cheeks are sharper. His hair’s darker and he has stubble on his jaw. I’ve never seen him with a five o’clock shadow. I think about what it would feel like if I ran my fingers over it.

  I glance into his eyes. They’re blacker than I remember. He’s looking at me like he wants to throttle me. Oh well. I move my gaze to his shoulders. They’re thick and muscular and he’s wearing a white T-shirt that stretches over him.

  Unfortunately, karma didn’t catch up to Nick and make his outside match the cynical jerk within. Nope. If I were to draw what he really looks like there’d be horns, a forked tongue, and a tail.

  I take another bite of cake. He watches and his furious eyes linger on my lips then move down my throat. I can feel the heat of his gaze like he’s stroking my neck. Then, his gaze slowly moves over my chest and down my body. I’m in a floral wrap dress with a low neckline. His eyes linger on my breasts, which are smashed up by my push-up bra and prominently displayed.

  I have the urge to cover them. Instead, I hold my ground.

  “Finished?” I ask.

  “Untie me,” he says.

  I sigh. “Or, how about…gee, Chloe, happy birthday? It’s been such a long time. So great to see you,” I say.

  He scowls. Okay, I admit that was a stretch. I don’t think Nick has ever said that it’s great to see me…except, well, once.

  He turns away and looks over the community room. It’s like a birthday fairy exploded and shot out hundreds of pastel balloons, streamers and confetti.

  He turns back to me. “Birthdays are a scam,” he says. “Just another day for people to fail at meeting unrealistic expectations so they can continue to disappoint each other. Likewise, Christmas and Valentine’s Day. Come on, Sparky.” He strains at the restraints.

  I shake my head. “Hate to disappoint,” I say.

  “Really?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  Nick sits in an antique wooden chair. His wrists are zip tied to the armrests and his ankles are tied to the spindle legs. What I can’t figure out is how he got himself into this situation. The chair’s in the middle of a pile of birthday gifts and he has a big red satin bow on his chest. Like he’s a gift. For me. There’s even a gift tag. Although, I’ve not worked up the courage to get close enough to read it.

&
nbsp; I’m not sure why anyone would think that I’d want Nick O’Shea for my birthday. Even if I do live in Romeo, New York: Official Town of Love, USA. People do crazy things here for romance, and usually I’m first in line for the show. Annual Romeo Soul Mate Festival, count me in. Valentine’s Day parade, I’m on a float throwing candy hearts. Cookie bake-off for Sweetest Day, yes sir-ee. I’m a diehard romantic. But this…I don’t get it.

  I’ve only seen Nick once in the past ten years, and let me tell you, the last time I saw him wasn’t a happy occasion. I would’ve been okay going another decade without his presence. I lick the fudge on my fork. It’s really good. Aunt Erma outdid herself this time.

  The band on the stage starts to play. My birthday party’s picking up. There must be at least seventy or eighty people here. Add the decorations, and a long table full of party food, and it’s a hit.

  “Happy birthday to our birthday girl, Chloe,” the lead singer of the band Rock On Romeo says over the mic. There’s clapping and long whistles. I wave and smile.

  Now, before you start to think I have loads of friends, let me disillusion you. My party is at my Aunt Erma’s retirement home and we invited all the residents in addition to my family and friends. So.

  Anyway, we’re in the community room at Water’s Edge Retirement Center. There are eight big circular tables with chairs, a stage for the band, a parquet dance floor, decorations, and lots of food and cake. I love birthdays, they’re my favorite holiday. Anybody’s birthday, not just my own. I love to celebrate and I love to show people how much I care by showering them with cards and presents. Nick’s a cynic, but I’m not going to let his negativity ruin my day.

  I turn to him. “Don’t know why you’re here, sitting in my present pile,” I say, “but I’m not unwrapping until after I blow out my candles.”

  “Is this payback?” he asks.

  I hold back a flinch.

  There’s a look in his eyes. In anyone else I’d say it’s vulnerability, but Nick doesn’t do vulnerable. Or regret.

  “For what?” I ask. “What could I possibly have to pay you back for? The pigtails? The barbies? The flagpole?” I pause. “My wedding?”

  He scowls.

  “What? Tongue-tied?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and gold flickers in his black eyes. “You’re crazy,” he says.

  “Hey, I’m not the one who tied you up. Besides, it’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be crazy.”

  I give him a long, slow smile. The music from the band and all the conversations are so loud I have to lean closer to hear his response.

  “No, Sparky. You’re crazy every day.” His eyes crinkle at the edges. This close I can see the little lines at their corners and the gold and amber flecks in his irises.

  I think he’s joking. There’s an almost smile on his lips. But then, it’s gone, and I’m not sure anymore. I knock away any softening I feel toward him. This is Nick I’m dealing with, not some sweet innocent puppy.

  “Still not letting you go. You look good tied up, it’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. The Great Nick O’Shea…completely at my mercy.”

  His fingers clench the armrest and he swallows. There’s a crackling tension in the air around him. Then, “When Hell freezes over.”

  I lean forward, our noses almost touching, and I mock shiver. “Is it cold in here?”

  He glares, then his eyes drift down to my lips. His eyelashes dip and suddenly he looks like he wants to lick my mouth. I step back. Then I carefully set my cake down on the table next to him.

  “In case you’re hungry,” I say. “Some devil’s food cake for your stay in Hell.”

  Too bad he’s tied up and can’t enjoy it.

  “Eat your heart out,” I say.

  Then, I walk away, swaying my hips to the music, enjoying the burn of his eyes on my back.

  2

  Nick

  * * *

  I should’ve known coming back to Romeo, New York, was a bad idea. The town’s obsessed with love—puppy love, love at first sight, second-chance love, true love, any old type of love. They go nuts for it. Ten years away, I’d forgotten the extent of the delusion.

  I’m not sure how I forgot. I grew up here, even drank the Kool-Aid in my idiotic teenage years. The town’s always listed in those nonsense guides as the most romantic place in America. I mean, they’re not wrong. Even I can admit the old brick buildings on Main Street, painted in bright colors, with flowering baskets hanging on every available surface are…charming. Plus, the bronze statue of Juliet leaning down her balcony reaching out to Romeo, yes, it has its draws. And okay, the SweetStop Bakery is fantastic. And the toyshop, and the bookshop, and yes, the Victorian rose garden at the center of town is nice in the summer. Unbelievable…three weeks in town and they’re already converting me back to romance fandom. I close my eyes and flex against the zip ties.

  Sure, I could bust out. But then, I’d ruin Erma’s fun. Unfortunately, she fed me too many oatmeal raisin cookies as a kid for me to end her scheming. I’m both embarrassed and impressed that she conned me with a fake walker routine and knocked my butt into this chair. Currently, she’s dancing with a teenager. No walker in sight. It’s a lively birthday party. Most of the people are doing a good job of ignoring the big guy tied up in the present pile. They probably think it’s somehow romantic.

  After all, the town’s official Soul Mate Psychic is in charge. And it’s her favorite grand-niece’s birthday bash. Nobody is going to naysay Erma.

  I narrow my eyes and watch Chloe dance with one of the retirement home residents. She tosses her head back and laughs. The sound is throaty and seductive and horribly familiar. A long time ago, I would’ve given anything to be the one dancing with her, the one making her laugh. Then for a minute, I was. I was like a kid that finally meets Santa face to face and realizes he’s real. Except, he isn’t. Which all grown-ups know. Santa Claus isn’t real, and neither is love. Chloe taught me that.

  In Romeo though, everyone loves her. In fact, the only thing I’ve heard about since coming home is Chloe Daniels. It’s like she’s the official mascot of the town. Everyone has something to say about her. Whether I’m getting a coffee at the bakery, or I’m in the check-out line at the grocery, it’s all about Chloe.

  Did you know Chloe has her own greeting card line? No, I didn’t.

  Did you know she hand-delivers cards to the housebound, the sick, the lonely? No, not a clue.

  Did you know she’s a saint? Nope.

  Did you know she’s a single saint? No. Didn’t know. But it sounds uncomfortable.

  I glare as Chloe spins in time to the music and her dress flows around her.

  Not interested.

  At all.

  Not at all.

  What? Don’t believe me?

  Trust me.

  The last thing I need is a first love swinging back around and sucker punching me in the head. Unrequited love is a hell of thing. I had it for years. It was like a virus, I caught it, I suffered and now I’m immune. To love, to Chloe, to the whole darn thing.

  I have two things I’m concentrating on right now. One, getting my private investigator’s business up and running. Two, getting my cabin in the woods so I can be left alone.

  When I left the military I could’ve gone anywhere. But for some reason, all I could picture was a quaint little town in upstate New York, and my own cabin on the mountain.

  I want my business and I want my cabin, Chloe doesn’t enter into either of those goals.

  Miss Erma catches my attention as she saunters over. Barely five foot tall and white haired, she’s in a red silk kimono that flows around her like rippling water as she walks. Erma has huge hawk eyes with an arresting stare. Her dad was from Ireland and her mom from Japan, they moved to New York from Hawaii after World War II. She’s a small woman with a presence of someone three times her size. Long after you forget everything else about her,
you remember her piercing eyes. When I was a kid I confessed all sorts of things to her because of that stare.

  Romeo town legend claims she can see your soul mate. Luckily, I’m too much of a skeptic to believe that. But Chloe’s not. And neither is the rest of Romeo. Miss Erma has a book three inches thick of all the couples she’s matched over the past seventy-five years. In fact, I see at least a dozen couples at this party that were matched by her.

  A slither of foreboding crawls down my spine.

  “Erma, please tell me I’m not Chloe’s soul mate,” I say.

  She laughs and her shrewd gaze takes me in. My mouth goes dry.

  I look around the room, desperate to see Chloe’s face. To determine if she knew about this when she came over to taunt me. I don’t see her in the crowd. I turn back to Erma and her lips curve into a knowing smile.

  “You’re not Chloe’s soul mate,” she says.

  I let out a long sigh. “Good. Good.” I close my eyes and realign myself to the news. Erma doesn’t think I’m Chloe’s soul mate, ergo Chloe doesn’t think I’m her soul mate, ergo…I flounder, not sure what I’m feeling.