by Lisa Moreau
Lovebirds
Emily Wellington loves birds. Sydney Cooper loves pole dancing. The last thing they expect is to fall in love with each other.
An exclusive exposé on the Madagascar lovebirdand its mysterious migration to the small town of Ojai, California, might be the only thing keeping Emily’s magazine, The Tweet, from going under.
Sydney doesn’t care what other people think; pole dancing gave her confidence and strength when she needed it most. Now penniless and unemployed, she needs to ace her pole dancing audition to become an instructor at LA’s hottest fitness studio.
Emily and Sydney couldn’t be more different, but they need each other to achieve their goals. When their unlikely friendship blossoms into romance, will the secret Sydney has been keeping destroy Emily’s chance to save her magazine, and their chance at true happiness?
Praise for Lisa Moreau
The Butterfly Whisperer
“[A] fast and easy read, very lighthearted…The sex was written with taste and beauty, definitely romantic.”—Artistic Bent
“The Butterfly Whisperer is a lovely heart-warming story of two women who come back into each other’s lives after ten years and find that the feelings they once had have not changed…The town of Monarch was wonderful and I loved the characters inhabiting it…There was a warmth and a feeling of community and I wanted Jordan to see that these things were more important than her Hollywood lifestyle.”—Kitty Kat’s Book Review Blog
“The Butterfly Whisperer by Lisa Moreau is a lovely romance with a bunch of my favourite themes all in one book. It has friends becoming lovers, an ice queen gets thawed, and it’s a second chance love story. It even has the right amount of delicious angst to keep the pages turning…I had a great time reading it and I’m looking forward to seeing what Lisa Moreau has in store for us next.”—The Lesbian Review
Love on the Red Rocks
“This was a lovely read, immersive and beautiful. Thoroughly recommended!”—Inked Rainbow Reads
“When I read this book I had no idea it was a debut novel because it was written so well. The story had me hooked from chapter one.”—Les Rêveur
“Love on the Red Rocks by Lisa Moreau is a very nice book for the author’s first novel. It was engaging and entertained me as a standard romance novel kind of way. The best thing about this book, it is full of likable, fun characters.”—The Romantic Reader Blog
Picture Perfect
“This is a witty, entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable light-hearted romance. It’s extremely well written and edited, a wonderful and well developed cast of characters, excellent dialogue, extremely funny at times and with a warmth and humor throughout. It’s my first from this author but definitely won’t be my last, I thoroughly enjoyed it.”—Lesbian Reading Room
“Picture Perfect has a light, breezy feel to it, making it an excellent beach read. It’s sweet, sexy, and a lot of fun with characters I enjoyed and a romance that gave me a happy sigh!”—The Lesbian Review
“This novel makes me think summer read, lying on the beach, with book in one hand and Mai Tai in the other. Another great novel by Lisa Moreau. Her novels just keep getting better and it leaves me desperate for what comes next. 5 Stars.”—Les Rêveur
Lovebirds
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Lovebirds
© 2018 By Lisa Moreau. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13:978-1-63555-214-0
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: November 2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design by Tammy Seidick
By the Author
Love on The Red Rocks
The Butterfly Whisperer
Picture Perfect
Lovebirds
Acknowledgments
I read a quote once that said, “Don’t write what you know. Write what you love.” That stuck with me and it’s something I’ve always adhered to. If you’ve read any of my other books, you know I love nature and small, quaint towns, which is odd considering I’ve always lived in large metropolitan concrete cities. I feel most at home strolling through a forest, communing with pine trees, colorful butterflies, deer, and any wildlife that doesn’t devour or bite me. So, when I was contemplating the subject for this book, how could I not go with my favorite fowl: lovebirds? I also wanted the setting to be in the charming California town of Ojai (Oh-Hi) which is nestled in a picturesque valley—a place I frequent often. Of course, there’s a lot more that goes into outlining a novel than subject and location, but that’s always where I seem to start. I hope you enjoy reading Lovebirds as much as I enjoyed writing it.
A special thank you to:
Sandy Lowe for your excellent input in my book proposal and the trillion things you do every day to make Bold Strokes Books run smoothly.
Radclyffe for making yet another one of my dreams come true by publishing my novel.
Shelley Thrasher for being the best editor a writer could ask for. I consider myself very lucky to be paired with you.
Everyone at Bold Strokes Books. Literally. Everyone.
Dena Blake, fellow BSB author, for reading 70% of my manuscript, giving me excellent feedback, and letting me know it didn’t suck.
Judi, my beautiful girlfriend, who gives me space to write, never complains, and is always supportive. I especially appreciate and admire you for going outside of your comfort zone to do practical research for this book when I wasn’t able to do so. It was enormously helpful. I’m so lucky you’re my girl.
For Judi
You raise my oxytocin level more than anyone I’ve ever known.
Chapter One
Soup Swap
No one wants bird poop in their salad.
That’s what Emily Wellington’s girlfriend, Gretchen, always said about the Little Bird, a quaint, outdoor café across from the ocean in Santa Monica. True enough, but it was still Emily’s favorite restaurant. The place was surrounded by bird feeders that attracted calliope hummingbirds, American goldfinch, and song sparrows. It was like dining with feathered friends, which were preferable to most humans.
Emily shifted in her seat, tugged on her collar, and glanced around the café. It was like a million-watt spotlight beamed down, considering the table was right in the epicenter. That wasn’t good when it came to tornados, earthquakes, or restaurant seating. Emily preferred out-of-the-way corner locations, anyplace where she could blend into the scenery like a chameleon. To take her mind off being center stage, she replayed the strange voice message she’d received from Gretchen that morning.
First, it was odd she’d suggested they meet at the café for lunch, considering the bird-poop threat and the fact that it was Monday. Lunch was every Tuesday and Thursday, date nights Monday and Friday, and lovemaking Saturday night. This impromptu lunch would throw off their entire schedule, which was unheard of. And even weirder was that Gretchen had ended by saying, in a terse tone, “We need to talk.” Normally, that’d
mean Emily was about to get dumped, but she knew better. They fit together like peanut butter and chocolate. Emily’s mouth watered. What she wouldn’t give for a Reese’s peanut-butter cup. Instead, she slipped a straw into her mouth and gulped down unsweetened, watered-down tea, which was a sad substitute.
There was only one thing this unscheduled lunch could be about: D-Day. Two years ago, Emily had made a promise to her parents and Gretchen, and now it was payback time. She’d racked her brain all morning trying to come up with an excuse to postpone the inevitable, but she had nothing. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reveled in the lullaby of a sparrow: three short, clear notes followed by a buzz and ending in a trill. If anything could calm her nerves, it was a songbird. She probably could have sat there all day allowing the symphony to wash through her if it weren’t for someone loudly clearing their throat.
Emily’s eyes popped open. A stunning woman with deep-blue eyes and shoulder-length golden hair stood beside her table. She had the milky complexion of a snowy owl, and despite well-defined arms that suggested she lifted weights, the woman moved as gracefully and confidently as a peacock when she shooed a bluebird off the table. Instinctively, Emily sucked in her gut. The woman had the proportions of a Malibu Barbie. Emily, on the other hand, would be Barbie’s distant cousin who never got invited to the Dreamhouse for a pool party.
“Well?” The woman rhythmically tapped her foot, which probably wasn’t to the tempo of a bird song.
Momentarily confused, Emily silently stared until she realized the woman had most likely been speaking for quite some time. Tuning people out was one of her talents, especially when birds were around.
“What?” Emily asked.
The woman sighed and looked as though she was resisting a dramatic eye roll. “Would you like to order now?” She pronounced each word precisely and raised her voice as though Emily might be deaf.
“But what about—”
“Jill, your waitress, is on a break, and I’ll be taking over your table.” The woman’s left eyebrow shot up. “Sooo?”
“Oh. No. I’m waiting on someone.”
“Right. Your girlfriend.”
“How’d you know that? Wow. Just how gay do I look?” Emily chuckled.
The woman turned redder than a male cardinal. “I didn’t mean…I just…um…I’ll check back later.” And with that she was gone.
Emily grabbed a spoon and studied her reflection. Short chestnut hair, brown eyes, khaki shorts, red plaid shirt, hiking boots. What about that screamed lesbian? It wasn’t like she was carrying a golf club, and her rainbow keychain was tucked into her pocket, not even visible.
When the waitress cleared her throat again, Emily jumped in her seat, causing the utensil to clang to the table.
“Christ. You scared the crap outta me. You’re as quiet as a dead three-wattled bellbird.”
“A what?”
“The bellbird is the world’s loudest bird. It can be heard almost a mile away, so the fact that it’s dead would then make it the quietest. Get it?”
The woman blinked rapidly and didn’t even crack a smile. No one ever got her bird humor.
“Yeah. Whatever. I just wanted to say that I don’t have anything against lesbians.”
“Okaaay.”
“There’s no reason to say anything to my manager. I’m one myself. A lesbian, I mean.”
“I didn’t plan to.”
The woman’s jaw muscles clenched. She peered down at Emily with squinty, suspicious eyes and looked like she was about to grab her by the collar with both hands. It was amazing how she could pull off stunning centerfold and scary biker chick all at once.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” Emily said. She usually didn’t strike up conversations with strangers, but something about this woman piqued her interest. She didn’t look like the waitress type.
The woman paused, one of those long, uncomfortable silences that made Emily want to crawl under the table. Finally, she said, “I’ve been here a couple of months. I work the night shift, but I’ll be taking over the lunch run for Jill.”
“Oh, right. She mentioned she was going on vacation next week. I’m Emily, by the way.”
“Sydney.”
“You’ll see me here a lot. It’s my favorite lunch spot.”
“Really? Even with all these birds flying around?” Sydney ducked when a hummingbird whizzed past her head, so close her hair swayed in the breeze.
“That’s the best part. I own a bird magazine. The Tweet. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
Sydney stared, stone-faced, like a flawless marble Aphrodite statue. She was about as enthralled with that revelation as she was with Emily’s bellbird joke.
“”It’s okay,” Emily said. “Most people aren’t into birding. Where’d you work before?” Emily held up a finger. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’re a wannabe actress slumming as a waitress, right?”
“No.”
“Musician?” Sydney shook her head. “Dancer?”
“Not exactly.”
“What then? I know people. Maybe I could help.” That was a lie. Emily knew no one. If she wasn’t sitting in her cramped two-person office, she was looking through binoculars. But she was curious as to the beautiful waitress’s aspirations.
Sydney’s eyes, the color of the Mediterranean, shifted back and forth. “I should just concentrate on this job for now. I really can’t fuck it up again.”
Again? Sounded like Sydney had issues holding down a position.
“Well,” Emily said, not wanting to push the issue, “I’ll give you a little tip about waitressing. Be nice no matter how cranky the customers are.”
“Right. Oh, hey. Here comes your girlfriend.” Sydney pointed to a fast-approaching Gretchen.
“How’d you know—”
Sydney sped away before Emily could finish her sentence.
Gretchen hooked her bag on the back of the chair and lightly patted Emily’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, breathless. “The Rasmussen audit went long.”
Emily pointed at Sydney’s retreating back. “Do you know her?”
Gretchen slid into the chair and ran fingers through long, frizzy brown hair. “No. Why do you ask?”
“She recognized you.”
A flash of something, maybe worry or anger, crossed Gretchen’s face. She grabbed a menu, eyes darting around like a nervous squirrel. “How about mushroom soup?”
“Gretchen, look at me.”
Gretchen sighed dramatically and focused on the space above Emily’s head. And there it was, the telltale sign of lying—no eye contact. Emily’s heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Oh my God. Maybe she was about to get dumped. Maybe Gretchen and the waitress where having an…
“An affair? Is that why you wanted to meet me here?”
“What are you talking about?” Gretchen batted her eyelashes and looked about as innocent as a convicted felon.
“You and Sydney!”
“Who the hell is Sydney?” Gretchen’s voice rose two octaves.
“Our waitress!”
Gretchen burst out laughing. After several minutes, she said, “I barely even caught a glimpse of her, and you think we’re having an affair?”
“But…she knew I was waiting for my girlfriend…and…she’s a lesbian and…she recognized you…” All that information seemed incriminating in Emily’s head, but saying it aloud sounded ridiculous.
“I’m not sleeping with the waitress.” Gretchen chuckled in a way that made Emily feel like a moron. “Now where’s this Sydney person? I’m ready to order.”
Gretchen signaled Sydney, who was beside their table in a flash with a pad and pen.
“Mushroom soup?” Gretchen asked Emily.
Emily scrunched her nose and scanned the menu. “It’s too hot. A Cobb salad sounds good.”
“You’re slouching again,” Gretchen said.
Emily sat upright and lifted her chin. Sydney shot Gretchen a go-to-hell look, the
kind Emily wished she could do sometimes. It always made her feel like a kid when Gretchen corrected her posture. She was right, though. Emily wasn’t the most poised person.
“I heard the soup is really good here,” Gretchen said.
“Where in the world did you hear that? And since when are you so hot for soup?” Emily chuckled at the unintended pun, which apparently went over everyone’s head. “Get it? Hot? Soup?”
“We’ll take two mushroom soups,” Gretchen said, completely ignoring Emily.
“Right away.” Sydney gathered the menus and sped away before Emily could protest.
Whatever. She didn’t want to waste time changing the order. The sooner she got this lunch over with, the better.
Emily took a deep breath. “I know why you wanted to meet.”
“You do?” Gretchen’s forehead wrinkled, which always happened when she was worried about something.
“I realize it’s been almost two years.” Sydney placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of Emily. “Wow. That was fast.”
“Let’s dig in,” Gretchen said brightly. She was awfully excited about mushroom soup.
Emily gulped down a spoonful. “Now about—”
“Take another bite. A big one.” Gretchen sat motionless, observing Emily like a specimen under a microscope.
Emily did as instructed, with Gretchen watching her every move. After she swallowed, Gretchen frowned and peered into the bowl. Had she seen a bug fly in there or, worse, a bird dropping? Suddenly, Emily wasn’t very hungry. She pushed the bowl aside.
