Eyes Like Those
When it comes to love, no one is in charge.
Isabel Chase is reeling. She’s just been offered her dream job as a staff writer on one of the hottest shows on television and quickly trades in the comfort of New England for sun, sand, and everything Hollywood. While stoked for what could be her big break, the show’s stunning executive producer has her head spinning and her feelings swirling.
Taylor Andrews is at the top of her career. Everything she touches turns to gold and the studios know it. Just when she’s on track for total television domination, Isabel Chase arrives in her office and slowly turns her world upside down. Isabel is intelligent, sarcastic, and dammit, downright beautiful. Unfortunately, she’s the one person that can take away all Taylor has worked for.
Will Isabel’s success lead to Taylor’s downfall? Or perhaps Isabel is all she needs…
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Reviewers Love Melissa Brayden
Praise for the Soho Loft Series
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Reviewers Love Melissa Brayden
“Melissa Brayden has become one of the most popular novelists of the genre, writing hit after hit of funny, relatable, and very sexy stories for women who love women.”—Afterellen.com
Strawberry Summer
“The characters were a joy to read and get to know. Maggie’s family is loving, supportive, and charming. They’re the family we all wish we had, through good times and bad.”—C-Spot Reviews
“The tragedy is real, the angst well done without being over the top, and the character development palpable in both the main characters and their friends.”—Lesbian Reading Room
First Position
“Brayden aptly develops the growing relationship between Ana and Natalie, making the emotional payoff that much sweeter. This ably plotted, moving offering will earn its place deep in readers’ hearts.”—Publishers Weekly
“First Position is romance at its finest with an opposites attract theme that kept me engaged the whole way through.”—The Lesbian Review
How Sweet It Is
“‘Sweet’ is definitely the keyword for this well-written, character-driven lesbian romance novel. It is ultimately a love letter to small town America, and the lesson to remain open to whatever opportunities and happiness comes into your life.”—Bob Lind, Echo Magazine
“Oh boy! The events were perfectly plausible, but the collection and the threading of all the stories, main and sub plots, were just fantastic. I completely and wholeheartedly recommend this book. So touching, so heartwarming and all-out beautiful.”—Rainbow Book Reviews
Heart Block
“The story is enchanting with conflicts and issues to be overcome that will keep the reader turning the pages. The relationship between Sarah and Emory is achingly beautiful and skillfully portrayed. This second offering by Melissa Brayden is a perfect package of love—and life to be lived to the fullest. So grab a beverage and snuggle up with a comfy throw to read this classic story of overcoming obstacles and finding enduring love.”—Lambda Literary Review
“Although this book doesn’t beat you over the head with wit, the interactions are almost always humorous, making both characters really quite loveable. Overall a very enjoyable read.”—C-Spot Reviews
Waiting in the Wings
“This was an engaging book with believable characters and story development. It’s always a pleasure to read a book set in a world like theater/film that gets it right…a thoroughly enjoyable read.”—Lez Books
“This is Brayden’s first novel, but we wouldn’t notice if she hadn’t told us. The book is well put together and more complex than most authors’ second or third books. The characters have chemistry; you want them to get together in the end. The book is light, frothy, and fun to read. And the sex is hot without being too explicit—not an easy trick to pull off.”—Liberty Press
“Sexy, funny, and all-around enjoyable.”—Afterellen.com
Praise for the Soho Loft Series
“The trilogy was enjoyable and definitely worth a read if you’re looking for solid romance or interconnected stories about a group of friends.”—The Lesbrary
Kiss the Girl
“There are romances and there are romances…Melissa Brayden can be relied on to write consistently very sweet, pure romances and delivers again with her newest book Kiss the Girl…There are scenes suffused with the sweetest love, some with great sadness or even anger—a whole gamut of emotions that take readers on a gentle roller coaster with a consistent upbeat tone. And at the heart of this book is a hymn to true friendship and human decency.”—C-Spot Reviews
“An adorable romance in which two flawed but well-written characters defy the odds and fall into the arms of the other.”—She Read
Just Three Words
“A beautiful and downright hilarious tale about two very relatable women looking for love.”—Sharing Is Caring Book Reviews
Ready or Not
“The third book was the best of the series. Melissa Brayden has some work cut out for her when writing a book after this one.”—Fantastic Book Reviews
Eyes Like Those
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Eyes Like Those
© 2017 By Melissa Brayden. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-011-5
This Electronic Original is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: October 2017
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: Lynda Sandoval
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design by Jeanine Henning
By the Author
Waiting in the Wings
Heart Block
How Sweet It Is
First Position
Strawberry Summer
Soho Loft Romances:
Kiss the Girl
Just Three Words
Ready or Not
Seven Shores:
Eyes Like Those
Acknowledgments
When I stumbled upon the idea for Seven Shores, I was excited to get back to the celebration of not just romance, but female friendships. I knew from the beginning that there would be
four books in this series, and as I write them, I have a fantastic time learning more about the characters, television, surfing, fashion, and coffee. I hope you, the reader, enjoy this first slice of California life designed as a flirty beach read.
Many thanks, as always, to everyone at Bold Strokes Books, my ever-supportive and fun-loving family, my publishing friends Rachel, Georgia, Carsen, and so many more for inspiration and commiseration. Appreciation goes, as well, to Nikki Little for always letting me bounce ideas off her, for work or life.
My editor, Lynda Sandoval, is a fantastic supplier of patience, humor, and focused advice, and without her I’d walk around in proverbial circles. I count the blessings of our storytelling partnership daily.
Lastly, unending thanks to Alan, who is always there to steady the ship, remind me of the bigger picture, and graciously give up the remote control.
For the Sunseekers
Chapter One
Isabel Chase sang quietly to herself as she climbed the stairs. Angry singing would be the most accurate way to describe it, born from the soul-sucking night she’d just experienced at the hands of the food service industry in America. She clutched tightly to that Bon Jovi anthem, the effects of which were half security blanket, half soothing cocktail. She sang the song quietly to herself as she climbed the final flight to her third-floor walkup. She sang a little louder once she landed outside her door, her outrage over the night’s happening bubbling to the surface with each step closer to home. She was pissed off, and though it was close to midnight, angry, aggressive singing helped.
Today had been yet another sucky day among many as she slogged through the dim, dark drudgery of her current existence. Her calves pulled from the climb, coupled with the lengthy night on her feet. At long last she opened the door and stared blankly into her studio apartment. “So, I got fired,” she said matter-of-factly, and tossed her bag onto the floor of her cluttered makeshift living room. “Again.” She slammed the door, causing pages of her most recent screenplay to flutter and scatter in a beautiful snowstorm of white. Only there was nothing beautiful about tonight. Nothing at all. She blew a strand of dark hair off her face only to have it flutter back and cover her right eye. Well, wasn’t that just par for the golf course of defeat?
Isabel’s black-and-white cat, Fat Tony, blinked back at her in utter disappointment. Of course he was disappointed. They needed that job for food. His disapproval seemed endless lately, and today it had surely hit a new low. Because who loses five jobs over two years? Okay, so she’d quit three of them herself and maybe, possibly, she was projecting the disappointment onto her cat, but it cut deep regardless. Fat Tony’s opinion mattered. She didn’t have very many people she could count on in her life, but Tony was a constant.
“You don’t understand, Tony, or you wouldn’t look at me that way.” She walked past him into the room, grappling for the right words to properly express her outrage, to articulate the injustice of this particular job dismissal. “That waiter captain guy is an ass who’s been gunning for me for six months now, ever since I came on at that restaurant. He’s been waiting for any opportunity to take me down, and tonight he found one. I’m pretty sure he’s banging the hostess, too, if that matters to you.”
Fat Tony blinked.
“So I didn’t know the precise seasoning on the special. Is it the end of the free world? The dish is seasoned, right?” She held out a hand to punctuate and then repeated the gesture for extra emphasis. “We know that much. So just order the sixty-five-dollar special and I will happily bring it to you with a smile.”
Fat Tony stared back at her evenly.
“You come to a five-star restaurant to have seasonings listed back to you? No. No one does that! Fennel is a stupid seasoning anyway. I think we can all agree. As in, who wakes up in the morning and thinks, tonight I’m going out for something with a little fennel in it? Zero people. That’s who.”
She was halfway to shouting at Fat Tony and felt bad about that. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care and jumped in supreme boredom from his spot on the entryway table to underneath the flap of the shabby and threadbare armchair, leaving her to commiserate on her own. “Fine. You’ll be back when I pop the can on your dinner. Why? Because you and I need each other, Buster. Just don’t expect me to list the ingredients.”
Annoyed that she still wore her all-black server’s attire, she unbuttoned the shirt as she walked to her portable closet and exchanged it for a comfy off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that felt like a magnificent exhale. Oh, yeah. That was nice. A beer would also alleviate some of the tension, and there was a stout in the fridge with her name on it.
Isabel popped it and sat at her very simple wooden desk, the one she loved with her whole heart. She’d found it at a secondhand store right there in Keene and stored away extra cash until she could bust it free. They’d been inseparable ever since. The small town in New Hampshire where she’d lived most of her life carried very little in the way of excitement, except for the brilliance that came each autumn when the leaves changed and the landscape streaked with bright purples, yellows, oranges, and all hues of red. She loved it when the seasons shifted, dazzling the eye. That didn’t mean she wasn’t ready to get the hell out of there, first chance she got. Leaves and colors only went so far.
Her eyes fell to the small framed photo of her and her dad when he’d lifted her onto his shoulders following a softball game when she was nine. She’d only played one season and was easily the worst on the team, but he had wanted her to play so badly. She adjusted the frame in its spot and made a mental note to call him the next day. See if he wanted to grab a beer. Make sure he was eating. Check in on any possibility he might go on a date and end his long streak of “lonely but okay with it.”
Isabel opened her laptop to her latest project, a short she’d been tweaking for submission to the Vital Reel Film Festival in New Mexico. With any luck, they could start shooting in a couple of months once the budget and logistics were somehow squared away. Just thinking about it made her feel better about the fennel. She’d always found success on the festival circuit and waited for the moment it would turn into more. Any day now, right? Until then, she schlepped from one annoying day job to the next, living for the moment she could return to her laptop and lose herself in another crazy, awesome, or human story. There weren’t a million things Isabel was good at in life, but writing was one of them. She just hadn’t been able to convince the wider world of that thus far. So she pressed on. It’s what she did.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
She flicked a gaze to her vibrating phone across the room.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
She could stare at it until it stopped or make the short journey to answer it. Uh-uh. No thanks. People sucked lately, and sometimes, she just needed a few hours away. Plus, her feet hurt. When the notification ceased, she pulled in a breath and refocused on the project. This one was grittier than her last. She’d already killed two characters. Perhaps a result of her own soul-murdering struggles of late. But really, who knew?
Bzzz. Bzzz.
“This day is not finished with me.” She stalked the length of the room and answered the phone without bothering to check the readout. “Isabel Chase, glutton for punishment.”
A pause. “Izzy, is that you?”
Celeste. Isabel smiled at the sound of her good friend’s voice and sank into the armchair. They’d gone to Boston University together, bonded in a creative writing course, and had never looked back. She and Celeste could go months without speaking only to fall right back into their unique friendship groove whenever they did. Not too many people got Isabel. Celeste did.
“Yes!” She tried to backpedal. “Oh, man. Sorry about the asshole greeting. Rough night.”
“I think it’s about to get better.”
Isabel smiled curiously into the phone. “Why? Whatcha got?”
“I’m taking off next week for London. One of their indie networks is gonna shoot my pilot. The one about the bipolar funeral dire
ctor looking for love.”
Isabel shot up from the chair. “Get out. I love that script.”
“If you mean get out of the country, then yes. That part is already happening. I’m packing as we speak. It’s been a whirlwind.”
“You’re getting a TV show in England?” Isabel asked slowly. She tapped her lips, attempting to process. “Are you magical or just way better at your job than me?”
“Neither. But there’s more.”
“You’re a very generous infomercial. What else could there possibly be?” Isabel squinted at the wall as she tried to fathom what it must be like to be Celeste. To be successful doing what she’d always wanted to do. To be out there writing for a living wage and not living project to project with a side of waitress. “But you should also know that the awful part of me is nothing but envious right now and wishing you overwhelming failure as soon as your plane lands. It’s not pretty in my head and I’m not willing to apologize.”
Celeste chuckled. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be Izzy without the sarcasm-laced death threats every now and then. I’ve come to expect them.”
“I’m not that bad, am I?” Isabel asked.
“No. It’s endearing generally. I just wish you believed in yourself as much as I do.”
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