by Roya Carmen
I run after Ken and grab him. When he sees Angela on the blanket, he’s happy to stay with her – these two play well together. Before long, Angela reaches for him and kisses his cheek.
Seriously, could you two be any cuter?
I reach into my bag and grab my phone. We already have a thousand pictures but what’s one more? They’re just so damn adorable. “I can’t wait to send these to auntie Ruthie,” I cheer.
They’re busy fighting over the keys and I take a moment to look out into the beautiful vista; greens and blues as far as the eye can see, specks of brown in the distance; our beautiful horses. And the focal point of it all; the large red barn, our little home. Ken reaches up for me and hands me the keys.
“Why, thank you, Ken.” I melt at the sight of his toothless smile. “Aren’t we lucky? Look at all this.”
Angela reaches for the bag of apples. I hand slices to the both of them. They do wonders for their teething gums.
I turn to Angela and point to the banquet hall. “Mommy and daddy got married right there last Christmas.”
Her big hazel eyes fix mine curiously.
“It was beautiful. I wore a pretty white dress and long red velvet cape, and daddy was very handsome in his tux and red bowtie. We rode in a horse drawn carriage. Spirit and Chester pulled us… they’re strong horses. It was amazing, and you were there too, in my arms.”
I know she doesn’t remember – she was so little.
“Auntie Amber and uncle Aiden were married there too, in the fall.” I pull out the stack of mail from my purse. I promised Amber I’d go fetch the mail at the end of our drive, on my way to our picnic – it’s mostly junk mail and bills. There’s a handwritten letter but it’s not for me – it’s addressed to Amber. It’s been three months since he last wrote to me. The last letter was very long; six pages, and he told me it would be my last.
I’ve prayed so many times for Michael to fade out of my life, and now that he has, it feels so strange. Following painful court proceedings, he was sentenced to five years in jail, and mandatory anger management therapy. Over the last year or so, he’s written to me a few times, to say he’s sorry, to tell me he was better, and to let me know he was getting the help he needed. He also fell in love. Her name is Samantha. She’s the sister of a friend and they’ve been corresponding via letters. I’m so happy he’s in love and no longer obsessed with me. I really do wish him the best and hope he doesn’t fall back into his old ways. He was a chapter in my life that I’ll never forget.
But now our story is over.
Ken throws a half-chewed slice of apple at Angela’s face. She scowls, not impressed in the least. I laugh out loud. “Now is that the way to treat your cousin, Ken?”
He grins. He knows he’s being naughty and he has no plans to change. I suppose he’s just like his dad – I’m told Aiden was quite the trouble maker as a kid.
He might give her a hard time sometimes but these two are as close as brothers and sisters. They were born only two days apart and have been inseparable ever since. Amber and I share their care and it’s perfect – it gives her time to work at the Inn, and gives me time to ride, to go to my classes, and to pore over textbooks. I’m getting there slowly but surely. I can’t wait to work with the animals.
Angela squeals and points into the distance. I jerk around to see Flynn walking toward us, looking as fine as the first day I met him. My heart still does a little cartwheel every time I see him in blue jeans and his red bandana.
I enjoy the view as I watch him inch closer.
He smiles wide at his daughter and scuffles little Ken’s hair. “How are my beautiful girls?”
I smile up at him. “Amazing.”
He sits down next to Ken who instantly reaches for his lap. “And how’s my adorable nephew?”
He takes him into his arms and throws him up high into the air. Ken giggles and grins widely at his uncle.
Flynn sets him back down on his lap and presses a finger to his mouth. “Shhh... don’t tell this to anyone, Ken, but you might just be my favourite nephew,” he whispers, “but let’s not tell Trevor, okay.”
I smile. “He might have some more competition soon,” I tell him. “Turns out, Ruby is expecting a boy.”
Flynn’s face lights up. “Really?!”
“Yep, they just found out the sex at their last ultrasound.”
“Well, the boys are definitely outnumbering the girls,” he says with a playful grin. “We might want to work on another girl soon,” he adds with a wink.
I laugh out loud. “Um… not for a while. You settle down now, cowboy.”
He reaches for me and pulls me to him. I abandon the lunch plates and carton of lemonade as I surrender to him. Only one question comes to mind as his sweet lips press against mine.
How did I ever get so lucky?
The End.
Thank you so much for reading Loving Jade. I hope you enjoyed the story. If so, please consider telling a friend, writing a review, and checking out my other books. I would certainly appreciate it. Thank you! For the latest news and updates on my upcoming releases, exclusives, fun and behind-the-scenes stuff, please sign up for my newsletter at www.royacarmen.com You can also reach me on Facebook, and Twitter and Instagram.
Loving Amber
(A standalone novel. Book 1 of The Riverstone Series.)
Torn by tragedy. Reunited by love.
Two years ago, I lost my husband and my brother to the same tragedy. To this day, I hold only one person responsible—Aiden Rogers, the beautiful boy I’ve known forever, the misfit I’ve both loved and hated, the one who always got to me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only one to blame.
Now he wants to be part of my life again—when I can finally see a future for my son and myself. I’ve found the perfect man in David, someone I can start over with, a man who will be the perfect father figure for Trevor. I have a plan. At last, I see the light, and I know I can make this work.
I will not let Aiden Rogers drag me back into the darkness.
Author's note: contains sexual scenes and some coarse language. This is the first book of the Riverstone Estate Series and can be enjoyed as a STANDALONE read.
Loving Ruby
Get in at Amazon.
(A standalone novel. Book 2 of The Riverstone Series.)
A sinful boss secretary romance.
I’ve heard all the rumours: He killed his wife. He’s on house arrest. He’s a vampire. Yet still, when I get a job offer from the reclusive Mr. Hyde, I jump at the chance. Yes, I know I’m crazy.
I’m cautious at first, but then I discover a beautiful, quirky man. I also see a tortured soul who lives in darkness. I know I should run, yet I can’t tear myself away. I want to discover all his secrets. I desperately want to help him. And when he draws me deeper into his strange little world, I want to stay.
Author's note: contains sexual scenes and some coarse language. This is the second book of the Riverstone Estate Series and can be enjoyed as a STANDALONE read.
The Ground Rules Trilogy
Two beautiful couples. Five simple rules. One hot mess.
Get it on Amazon and other retailers.
Gabe and Mirella Keates are happily married – high school sweethearts, in fact. But by chance, one fateful night, they meet the rich and enigmatic Weston Hanson and his beautiful wife Bridget.
Mirella is instantly drawn to the sexy, mysterious, peculiar man and soon becomes obsessed with him. And when the dynamic couple makes them an unthinkable proposal, Mirella and Gabe accept, driven by lust and desire, despite knowing the risks.
The ground rules are clear, but as Mirella discovers the kind and gentle man hidden under Weston’s cold, rigid exterior, she soon falls hard for him. And as Weston’s walls begin to crumble, he starts to break his own rules as well.
As Mirella falls deeper, she is torn between her feelings for Weston and her love for her husband. And as the volatile and passionate Gabe becomes increasingly jealous, Mirella rea
lizes her entire world is tearing at the seams.
Author's note: contains sexual scenes and some coarse language. This is a trilogy but the first book can be enjoyed as a standalone read. Amazon Erotic Romance Bestselling Trilogy. The Ground Rules (Book 1), The Ground Rules Rewritten (Book 2), The Ground Rules Undone (Book 3)
Excerpt: The Ground Rules Book 1
Chapter 1
The pink dress…
GOODNESS…MY TOES are a disgrace. I haven’t looked at my feet in a while, and as I stare down at the faded, chipped blue polish on way-too-long toenails, I realize I might be letting myself go.
I really need a pedicure.
I can’t remember the last time I gave myself a pedi. Chloe’s toes are perfect little shiny red buds—I just did her nails yesterday.
When did my daughter’s toenails become more important than mine? Probably about eight years ago or so. I first painted her toenails when she was just a baby—just wanted to see what it would look like.
I suppose that’s what happens when you become a mom. One day you have a life. You look hot. Other men (men who are not your husband) want to do wicked things to you.
And then…you’re painting your baby’s tiny toenails.
I sigh as Chloe wraps one of my colorful scarves around her neck, her dark brown curls caught under the silk. We’re playing dress-up.
She twirls in front of the wall mirror. “Do I look grown-up, Mommy?” Her gorgeous eyes gaze at me intently. “Well, do I?”
“Yes, sweetie. You look very sophisticated.” Classier than me, I muse—ghastly toes, shabby sweats, and all. Every time I look at her, I see her father. She looks so much like him—the crazy dark curls, the gorgeous, sleepy, hazel eyes and the slightly off-kilter, devilish smile.
She’s precious, standing in my over-sized black pumps and red cocktail dress, a hodge-podge of necklaces draped around her neck.
Her little sister stands on a vanity chair, arms stretched as she reaches for one of my dresses. “How ’bout this one?”
I give Claire the pick of the crop. I never wear them anymore. And I do have a lot of dresses—when a pretty one catches my eye, impulse overtakes me. I never ask myself, “When am I ever going to wear this?” If I did, I probably wouldn’t have this overstuffed closet.
I’ve taken over the closet, in fact—Gabe’s clothing is stuffed in an armoire, but I don’t think he minds. He’s a simple guy—he wears mostly jeans, T-shirts, and plaid button shirts. He doesn’t need a closet.
Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway…
I study the dress Claire has picked out—it’s one of my favorites, probably the favorite. It’s a fifties-era dress I spent a small fortune on at one of those posh vintage stores—pink chiffon over taffeta, a corset-like bodice with lacy straps, and a flowing skirt that falls just above the knee.
The pink dress brushes the carpet, hanging off Claire’s tiny six-year-old frame. She looks so sweet in it. I can’t help but stare. I’ve only worn it twice—once at the theatre, the other time at a wedding. Gabe’s oldest brother tied the knot on a beautiful July day, which somehow managed to turn into a torrential downpour. We all got drenched. Gabe and I sprinted to our hotel room, undressed in a fury, and made love. Gabe’s wet shirt had been plastered on his body, the tribal tattoo covering half his body peeking through the soaked fabric. It’s one of my favorite (very hot) memories.
I looked really nice in that dress.
“You look like a princess,” Chloe tells her little sister. Claire, seemingly pleased with this observation, flashes her adorable toothless smile.
The dress seems so small. Would I still fit into it? No way. I’m almost thirty-five years old, and I’ve had two kids. But… I just need to know.
“Claire,” I venture softly. “Can you take the dress off?”
She shrugs, tiny brows furrowed. “But you said I could wear any of your dresses.” She’s not taking it off. “It’s my favorite,” she says with pursed lips. Even when she’s being difficult, she still manages to be adorable.
“Well, it’s my favorite too actually,” I tell her, stroking the chiffon between my fingers. “But it does look very nice on you.”
She ponders me for a second, and I can almost see her little mind working. She stares at me with those big brown eyes of hers—she’s so sweet. “Do you want to wear it?” she asks softly.
“You think I should. You think I could fit into it?”
“For sure,” she says with conviction. Well…she’s definitely more optimistic than I am because I’m pretty sure I won’t fit into that dress.
She wiggles out of it, and I quickly get out of my shabby sweats. I’m down to my undies and undo the side zipper.
“The moment of truth, girls…”
As I carefully slip the dress over my shoulders, I’m surprised. It falls to my knees and seems to still fit. But whether I can zip it up or not is the question. I make it three-quarters of the way there, and the dress fits more snugly than I remember…but it fits!
I kneel down as Chloe assists me in zipping it to the top. “It looks really nice on you,” she tells me as we study my reflection in the mirror.
It does.
I’m happy I still fit into my favorite dress. But on the other hand, I’m a little depressed. I’ll probably never get to wear it again. Let’s face it—my life is not exactly full of charity balls and glamorous events. Gabe and I don’t get out much—our idea of a date night is a hearty meal at the local family restaurant and a movie, or perhaps the occasional dinner with friends.
“Why do you look so sad,” Claire asks, a dash of concern in her sweet voice.
Because Mommy has no life.
I smile to reassure her. “I’m not sad, Claire. It’s just…I’m probably never going to wear this dress ever again.”
She looks at me like I have three heads. “You’re wearing it right now, silly.”
I laugh at her. She has a way of making me giggle, and right now, my life is wonderfully perfect—I have her and Chloe, and Gabe.
“You’re right, Claire,” I pipe up. “I am wearing it. We should do something special. We’re all dressed up.”
“How ’bout a tea party in my room?”
I smile. “Sounds wonderful.”
“So tell me, Mirella,” Claire starts. “How have you been?” she asks, her sweet voice laced with pomp and circumstance.
Her expression makes me laugh. “Why, I am just divine, Claire. Thank you for asking.”
I sit at the tiny yellow table in my vintage pink chiffon dress, nibbling on animal crackers and drinking iced tea. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to wear the dress somewhere—perhaps Gabe and I could go see a show—it could be a lot of fun. I should speak to him about it.
And there it is…that “defining moment” wrapped up cleverly into an “ordinary moment.”
What if we hadn’t been in that closet playing dress-up? What if Claire hadn’t picked out that dress? What if it hadn’t fit? What if…
Claire is having quite the battle with her taco. Every time she bites into it, cheese covered ground beef spills onto her plate. At this rate, she’ll never get any of it into her little stomach. The sight makes me laugh.
Gabe rolls his eyes and grabs her taco. “You’re not holding it right, Claire,” he snaps. “The whole thing’s falling apart.” He rewraps the taco and folds her fingers around it. He proceeds to instruct her exactly how to hold it and eat it. She seems flustered, and she holds that taco like her life depends on it. I feel a little sorry for her. Leave it to Gabe to turn taco night into a stress-inducing exercise.
He spots her shaking bottom lip—a tell-tale sign she’s just about to cry.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I know tacos are not easy to eat,” Gabe tells her.
She wipes a tear off her face with a pudgy finger.
“It’s like a lot of things,” he says, with a playful pinch of her cheek. “It takes a lot of work to get right. You’re doing great.”
Gabe is not as easy-going as I am. I don’t think anyone is. Gabe says I’m the most patient person he’s ever known. And I guess that’s a good thing since I’m a kindergarten teacher. Handling two girls is nothing compared to handling twenty-two five-year olds at school all day.
When the whole taco drama is over, I take advantage of a few precious seconds of silence to talk to Gabe about my idea for “date night.” We’ve had date nights before, but this would be something a little more special.
“I was thinking we should go out, just the two of us,” I tell him between bites of my taco. “You never did take me out for Mother’s Day.”
“Is there a movie you want to see?”
“Well, I was actually thinking of doing something a little different,” I tell him, and I’m a little nervous for some reason—I’m not sure why—it’s not like I’m asking for a trip to Paris.
“I thought we could dress up and go to the city to see a show.”
I spot a scowl for a fraction of a second. The theatre is not his thing, but he’ll go to great lengths to make me happy. “I guess we could,” he finally says. “We could go someplace nice for dinner too.”
We sit in silence for a beat. The girls munch on their tacos as they listen to us. They seem curious.
“It’d be sweet to go to some grown-up place for a change,” he adds with a smile. “Somewhere posh and fancy, where they serve you a spoonful of food on a big-ass plate and charge you an arm and a leg.” He’s up for it because he knows that’s what I like.
“Yes, somewhere where there are no kiddie menus, after-meal toys, and brown paper covered tables you can doodle on.”