“You don’t have to go to the whole thing, babe,” she comforted him last month, when they were finalizing travel plans. “I’ll hardly be able to talk to you. I can meet you at the evening reception.”
“I want to go. I’m curious,” he said. Their hands were clasped and they were lazily lounging after a picnic outside, their backs on the warm grass and the breeze on their cheeks.
“Alright,” she said nonchalantly, but he could tell she was pleased.
“I was raised going to Catholic mass, you know. I can keep still,” he reminded her.
“Actually, you know what? This might be a little less strict than a mass. Definitely no kneeling. And don’t be surprised if people around you chat a little. You’re allowed to talk, as long as it isn’t too intrusive. And wait! I almost forgot!” She turned to him and announced with grave seriousness. “There will be snacks.”
He turned over and leaned on one hand, his elbow bent. “Snacks? At a temple. During a ceremony. Say more.”
“Nothing fancy. Just don’t be surprised if a tray with fruits gets passed down your aisle. Or, better yet, do you remember those individual ice cream containers you got served at birthday parties when you were a kid?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yup!” she exclaimed victoriously. “And you’re welcome.”
“What is it with your family and ice cream?” he asked, amusement and affection spilling over his question. He knew the gravity of her pistachio ice cream addiction.
“What do you mean? Are you complaining, Beaumont?”
He kissed her. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Just realized I’ll be eating ice cream while in a Hindu wedding ceremony watching my gorgeous girlfriend in the most beautiful sari in the world. No complaints here.”
Sebastian was jarred out of the memory by the approach of Lakshmi, the bride, resplendent in red and gold. Jaya was holding some kind of cloth over her brother’s face and then dropped it when the bride and groom were closer. Each had a lush flower garland that they put over their beloved’s head.
Multicolored flowers, gold jewelry, and bright fabrics filled his vision everywhere he looked. The faint smell of fire from the middle of the mandap, as well as the heady mix of mustiness and perfume of hundreds of people, added to the sense that he was part of something profound. In the middle of Jaya’s Detroit community and at the height of one of the most important events for her family, he was welcomed with open arms.
He settled into his seat, letting his mind wander while watching the ceremony’s elaborate rituals. He let memories of the past summer, and reflections about his career, and the wedding before him, and Jaya—always Jaya—mix and merge in his head.
The Florida Sharks lost to Columbus during the sixth game of the series. Sebastian had a great series, helping with three goals and two assists while establishing himself as an all-around offensive force.
Noah and Sebastian would play together for at least another year, but the captain’s contract was running out. Like any player in the NHL, the star defenseman could find himself with any team, at any time.
Sebastian, however, felt secure for the duration of his contract, knowing the coaching staff planned to build an offensive core around him. Five-year deal signed, agent content, and mom notified, Sebastian decided it was time to sort out his living situation in Florida. Sebastian decided to buy a house in Miami with the help of the one woman who really wanted to have a say in it. His mom.
“Are you sure this is in a good school district?” his mom said as they approached the sixth house of the day. “I don’t see any playgrounds around.”
“Mama, this is within a twenty-minute drive to the arena. And has some of the bigger lots. The realtor said it’s a good area.”
“The best value comes from a strong school district,” she grumbled.
“I know this is a shock to you, but I don’t have kids yet.”
She smiled and repeated the last word, “yet,” without even a sliver of subtlety.
Most of the open houses they viewed blended into each other. A couple of new construction and a few cookie cutter structures later, he remained unconvinced of the value of taking a plunge this big. He could rent for a while.
But this house they were approaching was different. Not cookie cutter at all—instead, charmingly Floridian in that sixties beach glamor vibe. It was definitely overrun with tropical plants, so the landscaping needed serious work. But the structure of the four-bedroom bungalow had attractive terracotta details and a large portico. Best of all, it offered privacy, tucked away from the street and nestled in a half-acre property.
“This is a bit cheaper than the new ones we’ve seen because it needs work. Can’t beat the character, though. You’ll probably want to renovate the kitchen, but this is Miami outdoor living at its best. Check it out.” As the realtor spoke, Sebastian strolled into a massive open space, the great room. He faced a wall of windows framing a view of the outdoor pool and patio.
The realtor was right about renovations. The floors needed updating, the walls were scuffed, and the kitchen far from what Sebastian needed to do his usual magic. But as far as outdoor spaces, this one was the best he’d seen since starting the search.
“I’m going to video call Jaya now!” his mom squealed behind him. She wasn’t wasting any time getting his girlfriend involved. It was nice, how much they got along. Sebastian held back his grin, though. His mom did not need any more encouragement when it came to meddling in his and Jaya’s decisions.
Carolyn Beaumont walked around the house and itemized every single corner for Jaya who, in turn, patiently commented throughout the tour. He checked the bathrooms and bedrooms on his own, happy that his girlfriend kept his mom busy so he could consider his options in peace. Buying a house was kind of a big deal, maybe? But the next phase of his life was starting, whether or not he was ready. And at least he had these two strong women in his corner to make sure he wouldn’t fuck up.
“BB! BB! Where are you?” Carolyn Beaumont called.
“I’m out here, Mama!” he answered from the sitting area sheltered by a covered patio.
“Jaya wants to talk to you. Here—” she said, handing her phone to him.
He saw Jaya on the screen, sitting back on her office chair and grinning. “You ready for this backyard?” he asked.
“I can’t wait.”
He walked her through the outdoor kitchen and bar nestled beside a curved patio, hardscaped and covered. Just beyond that vantage point was a large pool surrounded by palm trees.
“It’s perfect,” she gushed.
“I know.” He paused, thinking about how different his life was this time last year. “But is it too soon to get something?”
“Well, you don’t have it, yet,” she chimed. “Honestly though? Timing matters so the sooner you can do this and get the renovations your mom planned…” she paused to take in his groan, “it sounds like it isn’t too soon at all. You don’t want to be house hunting during the season.”
“Do you see yourself here?” He asked the one thing he needed to know. Her answer was the deal-breaker no matter where he went or what he did.
“Yes,” she said simply, smiling.
“Good.”
So he bought the house and hired a contractor to update the kitchen. He traveled back and forth from Cincinnati to Miami, spending the summer with his girl and working out with his old teammates. The best weekends were when Jaya could head south. They camped in the master bedroom and talked about how Sebastian, who had lived in a single room and out of a suitcase for most of his adult life, was now going to fill four bedrooms.
He had some idea how, dreaming of a time when Jaya felt ready to take the next step. But he was a patient man. And, as Jaya said with characteristic good humor, “a mattress on the floor is serious big dick energy.”
The pool was in good shape. When they weren’t painting or shopping for the house, they swam and lounged. But they always had time to make love in or by the pool at night
.
“You know this was on my list,” she said one day as they lay on the grass. “To take a vacation somewhere warm but with no sand.”
“You really are picky about sand, aren’t you?” he teased.
“Except this isn’t a vacation,” she said, and he looked over to see what she meant. She was beaming. “It’s better than a vacation. This is home.”
And that’s how she told him.
Jaya’s first few months with Dr. Glynnis Sanditon’s practice was so successful, there had been club teams from all over the country asking about the program. They arranged for her to be the head of curriculum development and mentor individual counselors as they were trained. It would require a lot of travel, but her daily home base could be anywhere. Office meetings were virtual and the training would happen wherever they were contracted, which would not necessarily be in Cincinnati.
“Sebastian, when you asked me if I could see myself here, I realized something. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
He was speechless. Sebastian grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her close, pressed her body against him with all his might, and kissed the daylights out of her. When they finally pulled away, he miraculously found the words to express what was in his heart.
“Jaya, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world. I would have waited as long as you needed me to, but this feels like a really good time to tell you that I hope you’ll keep me. Forever. I love you and I want to marry you one day. It doesn’t have to be any time soon, but nothing makes sense unless I know we’ll be together. One day…”
“Yes,” she said tenderly, interrupting his rambling declarations.
“Yeah?” he asked, hoping to get a confirmation of the best news of his life.
When she nodded, there was only one thing left to say.
“Good.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Marquez Diamond is a nerdy professor by day and a romance writer by night. She writes love stories because they reveal, through the pages, all of life’s intensities—the thrilling and the provocative, the comforting and the sweet, the sadness and the bliss. In the labors of love she offers readers, she hopes to offer something to relish, something to think about, and something to love.
She is author of The Cincinnati Thrashers: Sports Romance Series featuring five contemporary romances with a diverse cast of irresistible heartthrobs and the brilliant, audacious women they fall in love with. Each standalone book offers a unique and satisfying happily-ever-after, although favorite characters have great cameos throughout the series. The hockey series has it all: naughty and nice, swoony and serious, laughter and love. Most of all, it delivers the passionate heat to keep readers coming back for more.
The Love Campaign is the first in a new collection of contemporary romances full of adventure, heart, and heat. Stay tuned for the rest of the Romantic Revelations Series! If you enjoyed the story of Sebastian and Jaya, please leave a review.
Your feedback means the world to Laura!
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Enjoy a Sneak Peek of
Theories
of
Attraction
A Standalone Novel of the Romantic Revelations Series
ABOUT THE BOOK
A genius scholar and a reckless mountain biker
enter a bar…
This sounds like the beginning of a joke, but it’s no laughing matter when instant attraction transforms into forbidden desire.
Jacob S. Newton is a young, brilliant, and handsome professor who never had time for anything but work. But no amount of research prepared him for the ultimate test: what to do when the woman of your dreams is a woman you can’t have.
After a series of reckless crashes, Francesca Maynard is ready to get her life back on track. She’s used to risking her body on the mountain biking circuit, but is she willing to jeopardize her heart for a man she doesn’t believe she deserves?
Will they learn to love for real? Or just in theory?
CHAPTER 1
If Microsoft insists on controlling the fates of all blank documents into perpetuity—heralding an auspicious beginning or ensuring an inconvenient one for writing projects everywhere—why did it choose Calibri 11 as the default mode of opening a word document?
Why not Times Roman 12? A logical writer could respect a Times Roman 12 default! Even if not as a first choice for their documents, certainly as a universally reasonable one.
Questions like these kept Jacob S. Newton from finishing his second dissertation.
His first doctoral degree was in Bio Medical Engineering. Not a lot of people knew that he finished high school at the tender age of thirteen and had completed his undergraduate degree and Ph.D. by the time he was twenty-two. His dissertation, the findings of which integrated decellularization methods, led to a collaboration on technology for orthotopic cardiac transplantation. He lived off a patent in which his research in organ bioengineering transplantation played a small but crucial part. Every year, the patent yielded him a check of anywhere between $115,035-$175,266. Or rather, that was the exact range in the last four years.
It should have been the beginning of a lucrative and prestigious career. But, unfortunately, Jake fell in love.
He audited a Women’s Studies class with an English professor during his last semester of writing the dissertation—because auditing classes and testing local microbrews was what he did to relax—and he was a goner. Jake fell in love with a body of literature so weird and foreign to him, and yet akin to soul searching music when he read it out loud, he couldn’t let it go.
His mind worked that way. It latched like a parasite. Except the host was an intriguing problem or paradoxical dilemma that needed to be solved. And his mind was a parasite that fed on problems and relished dilemmas until solutions in the form of research, analysis, and explication were yielded. This particular form of literature, produced in England around the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, was the most beautiful problem he had ever latched on to.
The week after he received his doctoral degree in Bio Medical Engineering, he applied to a Ph.D. program with the English department at The Ohio State University, focusing on Renaissance Literature. Four years later, after course work, proposal defense, and project approval, he knew he was in bad shape if Microsoft Office’s dubious taste in fonts could derail him so easily. So yes, it was the most beautiful problem he had ever latched on to. And the most frustrating.
His best friend, Carlos Fuentes, knew a little bit about how Jake supported himself and how he continued to languish in the “all but dissertation” stage this past summer. But in the wise ways of good friends everywhere, Carlos didn’t bring up the sensitive topic of frustrated research. Carlos didn’t embarrass him about matters of passive income. Instead, Carlos let him pay for drinks and listened to his complaints.
So that’s where they were. Jake paying for drinks and bitching about Microsoft word to Carlos who let Jake complain one time before telling him to shut the fuck up about it.
They lived in Cincinnati but were in a new microbrewery in Columbus, close to The Ohio State University campus. It was the most depressing time to be in a bar. 11:10 on a Wednesday morning, right when it opened but without even the excuse of being hungry for lunch.
The place was thinly populated. A group of young women by the window glanced furtively at the two strikingly handsome men. A couple sat in a booth by the corner. A surly bartender and a cute waitress kept themselves sparse. That was the full constituency of this microbrewery with IPA more like piss than ale. Jake wouldn’t be coming back.
“I gotta grab some sleep before tonight, man,” Carlos said after downing the last of his one drink. “This place sucks by the way.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you,” Jake said. They occupied a r
ental with two other housemates for the last few years but, due to opposite work hours, rarely saw each other. Carlos worked all night as a bartender and Jake did his research and writing in the library all day, even if the fall semester wouldn’t officially begin till next week.
“I’ve got a few more hours at the library and then class prep.”
“Probably still working by the time you get back. Take it easy.” Carlos left as a handful of people trickled in for the lunch specials.
Jake didn’t want to be in the bar but he wasn’t in a rush to head to campus either. Which is where he should be. As an advanced Ph.D. student, Jake was assigned an upper level course on a topic of his choice. He wanted to revisit the syllabus. Again.
“God, you’re so fucking embarrassing!” A man in his thirties whisper-hissed at his companion. But his statement was loud enough to be heard from their corner of the room to the bar where Jake was sitting.
“I’m embarrassing? Me? You’re the one like a dog in heat, sniffing around every undergrad. It’s disgusting!” Yeah, his companion wasn’t whispering at all. She was full-on shrill.
“Be quiet, Martha. You’re being paranoid again,” he said dismissively. As if suddenly conscious that his quiet words nonetheless travelled to other tables, he declared, “Let’s go.”
The man stood from their booth and grabbed the woman’s arm. She whipped her arm back and banged her elbow on the chair.
“Ouch! Fuck, that hurt! You are such an asshole!”
“You want to stay here and make a fool of yourself? Go ahead.”
“What? You’re leaving now? Connor, I swear if you fucking…”
Jake put on his Beats headset and sighed. He was going to finish his drink in peace and never come back to this establishment with mediocre beer and questionable patrons. He put his head down to read a book when he sensed a woman slip onto the barstool beside him.
The Love Campaign (Romantic Revelations Series Book 1) Page 28
