Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  His cerulean gaze held hers in return, even as they slipped from one partner to the next, asking questions of each other. Trying to understand. A guy who would dress in breeches and dance a cotillion either had to be serious about her…or crazy. Didn’t he?

  “I left them with the clerk for you.” He took her gloved hands into his as they met again. “To be delivered to your room, so you’d understand.”

  “The clerk?” They twirled together along with the other partners in the dance. “Lydia gave me your message, along with the vouchers.”

  “Vouchers?”

  “For a free stay when I return with my boyfriend.” She raised a brow at him before they parted again, his look of shock peeling back another layer of the façade.

  He’d never sent the vouchers…or Lydia.

  And just to reiterate. He’d donned a cravat for her!

  When the dance brought them back together, he took her hands and pulled her completely off the dancefloor, sending the poor couples into a burp of confusion before correcting their steps. He tugged her across the room to a pair of glass doors that opened to a balcony. The evening air, cooler than it had been during the reception, blew over her heated skin with a welcome touch, bringing her senses to life. Clearing her mind. Voices rose from the Baths below as people continued to enjoy the refreshments, and music strummed through the doors in a quiet serenade to the night.

  And Ethan was here. With her. At a Regency Ball.

  No man dressed in Regency without serious consideration.

  Her smile bloomed, spreading all the way through her like the thrill of Christmas. Maybe she wasn’t a temporary flirtation or a passing fancy after all?

  He clicked the doors closed and turned to her, raising his mask to rest atop his head, those brilliant eyes searching hers with a breath-stealing intensity. Oh, he was handsome. And it had nothing to do with the glorious waistcoat or silk stockings.

  Okay, maybe it had a little to do with them. But not much.

  “I never sent a message or vouchers by Lydia.”

  “I’m figuring that out.” She offered a smile.

  “And I’m assuming you never sent a note to me by her, either.” He pulled a card from his vest and placed it in her gloved hand.

  By the silvery light of the moon, she read over the words. “Oh my. Her handwriting is so much better than mine.”

  He chuckled and slipped the card from her hand before stuffing it back in his pocket.

  She raised her gaze to his, her throat constricting from his closeness in the moonlight. “If I could have sent you a message, I would have asked you to be my date to the Ball.”

  “And see? You didn’t even have to ask.” His words brushed with tenderness, melting over her and drawing her in a step closer.

  “What did your messages say?” Her voice barely squeezed the words into a whisper.

  “I apologized for canceling our dinner engagement.” He eased nearer, almost touching. “And asked to make it up to you with breakfast on Saturday followed by seeing you off to the airport until I could join you back in the States.”

  “Join me in the States?” There was no hiding the little-girl-giddiness in her voice.

  His palms slipped to her cheeks and gently pushed the mask up to her forehead. “Nora, did you think I’d want to end this sweet beginning with you once we return home? We don’t even live that far away from each other.”

  “Maybe an hour and a half.”

  “Depending on traffic,” he whispered, but she heard ‘you’re beautiful’.

  Her doubts felt paltry and childish in the face of his gentle affection. “I thought this was one of those whirlwind romances that happened like a beautiful dream, but ended when I awoke.”

  His grin crooked and took her heart with it. “It can still be a whirlwind romance, but I think we can make it last a lot longer than a dream.”

  She breathed in his closeness, resting her palm against the chest of his beautiful brocade waistcoat. “Me too.”

  His smile spread, captivating her and sending all sorts of delightful hidden messages—or not so hidden. “And…I’d like to talk to you about a business arrangement.”

  That paused her forward momentum to his lips. “Business arrangement?”

  His fingers skimmed her cheek until his warm palm stopped at her jaw. “I’d like you to consider taking all your ideas and creativity and helping me turn the Elliott Elizabeth Inn into the historic luxury hotel it’s meant to be. Take the two things you enjoy most—”

  “And combine them?” Her whisper trembled forward. She shook her head, her laugh shocking out from her lips. “That’s amazing.” Her fingers twisted into his jacket, holding him near. “And I get you as a bonus?”

  He tipped his face closer, slipping his words over her cheek and cascading warmth down her neck. “If you want me?”

  And her muscles went all swoony again. “Oh yes, I want you.”

  With the gentlest pressure to her chin, he raised her lips to meet his, sealing the bargain. His arms wrapped around her, encasing her in a sense of safety and sweetness and care. All her dreams converged with their lips—this moment—bringing two different people together for something as unexpected and beautiful as a happily-ever-after.

  He took his time, answering all the unvoiced questions her heart beat over the last twenty-four hours; securing his serious pursuit with enough passion to brand her his in every dream she dreamed for the future.

  Nora didn’t know how long they stood there in the moonlight kissing. She didn’t really care, but when they finally pulled apart, Ethan tipped those delicious lips of his into a dashing grin. “I suppose we ought to return to the Ball.”

  “I wouldn’t mind showing you off to the crowd for a little while longer because I’m pretty certain this whole get-up” —she waved her fan toward his ensemble— “is a once-in-a-lifetime deal.”

  “I have to admit I appreciate my loafers and polos much more than I did yesterday.” He offered his arm and she fitted hers through the crook, squeezing close to hug his side.

  “Back to a dance?” Nora raised her brow to her handsome companion, basking in the glow of his teasing grin.

  “Do you agree with what Austen says about dancing?” He opened the door for them and escorted her back into the music-filled assembly.

  She looked up at him with an exaggerated shrug, hoping this conversation went in the direction she wished. “Every savage can dance?”

  “Not exactly the quote I had in mind.” He placed his palm over her hand against his arm and leaned his head near her ear, his lips close enough to brush her skin. She closed her eyes to appreciate the sweet caress of tingles through her body.

  “Then which did you have in mind?” Her words lost their playful tone in a breathy rush.

  “Austen said, ‘To be fond of dancing was a certain step to…” He hesitated and searched her face. “…falling in love.”

  Nora held his gaze, seizing not just the moment, but a hopeful future. “Then I’m extremely fond of dancing.” She gestured with her chin toward the ballroom. “Shall we?”

  “As long as it’s with you.”

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading, Second Impressions! It’s my first step into writing romantic comedy so I hope you enjoy the sweet combination of swooning and laughter.

  If you enjoyed this story, would you spread the word by leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, and any other retail sites you frequent. There’s nothing quite as influential in book sales as Word of Mouth, so I’d love it if you’d also consider telling your friends about it. Any success my books have is owed to readers like you who take the time to tell others about my stories.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Big thanks to Heather Gray and Krista Phillips for heading up this box set, and for including me in it. I’m so grateful to have this opportunity to team-up with you!

  And a special thanks to Krista, for guiding me through this novella proce
ss.

  Huge thanks to Katie Donovan for her grace-centered, perfectionistic editing, and to Carrie Booth Schmidt for her proofreading skills and all-around encouragement.

  As always, I’m thankful for my husband and kids for supporting this writing journey with me.

  And above all, thanks be to God, whose perfect love continues to inspire stories of love in me.

  To keep up with my latest writing news, there is a sign-up form on my website: www.pepperdbasham.com

  Please find me on Facebook or Instagram. I’d love to connect.

  Thank you so much,

  Pepper Basham

  About Pepper Basham

  As a native of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Pepper Basham enjoys sprinkling her Appalachian culture into her fiction. Storytelling has always been a part of her life, cultivated by her culture and a granny who enjoyed spinning a good yarn. As Pepper grew, her stories expanded in length, style, and genre.

  Her World War 1 era historical romance series, The Penned in Time series, has garnered recognition in various contests, and her most recent release, The Thorn Healer, received a Top Pick rating from Romantic Times with a 4 ½ star review.

  Her first contemporary romance novel, A Twist of Faith, debuted in April 2016 and features the humor and faith of Pepper’s native Appalachia.

  When she’s not writing, she’s hanging out with her hubs and five kids, working as a speech-language pathologist, sniffing out good chocolate, or collecting new hats. She resides in Asheville, North Carolina with her family and is often lurking around her group writing blog, The Writer’s Alley.

  Pepper is the author of four books, published in both historical romance and contemporary romance.

  Website: http://www.pepperdbasham.com

  If you enjoyed Second Impressions, don’t miss out on Pepper’s novel, A Twist of Faith. It’s a modern-day version of My Fair Lady set in Appalachia you won’t want to miss. With humor, romance, culture clashes, faith, and the love of a big family, two wounded hearts find healing with each other.

  Other Books by Pepper Basham

  The Penned in Time series

  The Thorn Bearer

  The Thorn Keeper

  The Thorn Healer

  The Mitchell’s Crossroads Series

  A Twist of Faith

  SECOND IMPRESSIONS

  Copyright © 2017 by Pepper Basham

  Published by

  Woven Words

  600 Carolina Holly Way Fletcher, NC 28732

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form by any means—digital, electronic, scanning, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover image ©2017 by Pepper Basham

  Cover art photos ©iStockphoto.com/peopleimages used by permission.

  Published in the United States of America by Pepper Basham

  www.pepperdbasham.com

  Mowed Over

  Christina Coryell

  Willow Sharpe has two current relationships: her recently relocated best friend, and the fairies she draws for a living. She’s promised to create a romance for her most popular fairy, but can’t seem to make herself follow through. That changes when a local landscaper nearly mows her over, disrupting her solitary existence.

  Clint Kirkland doesn’t pursue relationships. Most women expect him to hold up his end of the conversation, and he’s not adept at small talk. When he meets the city slicker artist with the pastel colored hair, the only thing he knows for sure is that she makes him uncomfortable. But things get even more complicated when one of her fairy creations begins to look a lot like him.

  Soon the two can’t decide whether the real relationship is driving the fairy romance, or vice versa. And though they both know that opposites can attract, they have to discern whether opposites can sustain the kind of love that lasts.

  For Mike,

  Because even though you looked at me like I was a nut,

  you still drew the pictures.

  Thank you!

  Chapter 1

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a beautiful fairy in possession of a large mushroom hut must be in want of companionship. #willowfairies

  With the magnifying glass dangling from the contraption atop her head, Willow Sharpe barely touched the tip of her toothpick into the black ink and made one more slight adjustment to the book that measured only an inch in height. It might be miniscule, but the camera’s close-up lens wasn’t forgiving. What could be more perfect than Arabelle wistfully reading Pride and Prejudice while Lady, her pet ladybug, cuddled in her lap? Especially on a beautiful April day like the one she had at her disposal?

  Willow carefully lifted Arabelle from her perch on the table and inspected her dainty wings, noting that one of the glitter sprinkles had shifted into the inky color that Willow had designed after staring at a monarch butterfly. With a cotton swab, she gently brushed it away while she lifted her chin to search for the tube of glue, trying to avoid looking through the magnifying glass. The slight change it always caused in her depth perception made her clumsy, and she didn’t relish the idea of cleaning up anything she knocked over.

  “What will your prince look like?” Willow asked Arabelle as she located the glue and readjusted her gaze to peer through the glass. “Dark and handsome, perhaps? Or with light blond, flowing hair? Perhaps he’ll ride in on a … lawnmower!”

  The low buzzing noise of the engine was unmistakable, and the sound sent Willow to her feet, attempting to dart toward the window and instead finding herself tangled in the extension cord for her glue gun. A jerk of her foot sent her sprawling over the armrest of the couch, where she glanced back and attempted another release movement. When her shoe didn’t give, she wiggled out of it and nearly flung herself at the window, pushing up the blinds until they made a loud snap at the way she dented them.

  The green behemoth passed through her line of vision, which was still obstructed by the magnifying glass. Refusing to release the blinds, she used her elbow to shove the magnifying glass up and to the left. It was her lawn that mower was traversing, and if she didn’t resolve the problem soon it would—

  “Stop!” She crossed the five feet to her door in seconds that seemed like hours, and flung it open with such force that the locking mechanism on the back of the knob smacked into the wall. Three steps led from her front door to the yard, but she leapt over them in one bound, her knees buckling under her when she hit the ground below. Pushing up to a stand, she ignored the moisture seeping through the bottom of her wooly sock and sprinted in the direction of the large oak just in front of her.

  “Stop!” she yelled, attempting to be heard over the roar of the engine. Whether he didn’t hear her or pretended not to, she wasn’t certain. His mirrored orange sunglasses completely shielded his eyes, and underneath his blue baseball cap she could see that the cord from his earbuds stretched to what was presumably a phone in his back pocket.

  Waving frantically, she screamed at him one more time, but he didn’t stop. Just kept driving forward in the direction of that little divot in the grass—that bare spot that looked like a nuisance to anyone but her—not paying her any heed.

  “Dear God, no,” she whispered, diving forward and wrapping her arms over her head.

  Hands pressed against his knees, Clint Kirkland drew in a gulp of air, trying to force some semblance of normalcy into his breathing pattern. It was no use. The air pocket expanded in his lungs, making him feel like his heart could explode at any second.

  How? How had he not seen the body in the ya
rd when he unloaded the mower? One minute he was glancing through the woods at the thick swath of trees, and the next he was nearly running over a strung out, half-undressed …

  Anxiety gripped his chest again, and he coughed into his fist as he tried to knock the feeling loose. He had never been big on being startled, which was a fact his brother tried to use to his advantage when they were kids, always hiding behind furniture and doorways. But nothing his brother had done could compare to the sudden, unexpected sight of a dangerously thin woman lying prostrate just feet from his mower, wearing striped boxer shorts, one shoe, and a ratty brown sweater with a hole just above the pocket.

  “Squirrel brains on a spitfire,” he muttered as he swiped his ball cap from his head. Sweat prickled along his hairline, and he knew it was from the undue stress and not the temperature. With one quick brush of his arm against his forehead, he placed the cap back in place and scratched his cheek through his beard as he turned back to the victim.

  She shoved up to her elbows, head swinging until her gaze was fixed on him. “Are you deaf? How did you not hear me screaming?”

  The shock of seeing her moving glued him in spot momentarily. Her eyes were nearly too big for her face, like those movie posters featuring waifish children, the effect heightened due to the magnifying glass contraption fixed around her head. It looked a lot like the one worn by the guy who once shrunk his kids. The mere suggestion of such a possibility to his brain had him glancing down at the grass near his feet, even though he knew the idea was ridiculous.

  “You know, mowers have a tendency to be a little noisy,” he sputtered out. “That and I wasn’t really expecting any oddball activity.”

  She raised onto her knees while he reached out a hand to help her up, but she refused and placed her hand on the ground instead. Feeling the slight, he pushed his hat up further on his forehead, so the bill was facing the sky instead of the horizon. She brushed her palms against her legs, and he squinted his eyes as he watched her. The woman had so much hair that it made her look top heavy, billows of blonde fluff that looked like cotton candy with ribbons of blue, pink, and purple.

  “I guess you’re blind too?” She raised herself to her full height, which couldn’t have been much more than five-foot-nothing. Her arms began flailing about, coming dangerously close to his face. “Didn’t see that? ‘Cause it seems like that would be really conspicuous.”