The first lesson Sam gave Lenor ended exactly that way: with a punch in his gut and my knee in his balls. I got so much grief from Lenor afterwards that I’m wise enough to just bite the bullet these days.
“That was really tough, Sam.” Lenor slowly sits up. She’s massaging her elbow and does a sorry pout I’ve not seen on her before.
She’s positively adorable and… Sam can’t help looking suddenly very sheepish. He scowls and, with that military gait of his, moves closer to Duchess. He bends down and extends his hand. She stares at it, but doesn’t take it. He leans further forward and…
…Wham! Her left leg stretches out in a sudden movement and swirls around, her toes pointed out, to slam Sam behind the knees. He fucking flies and fucking crashes to the ground. Lenor jumps up and she’s now the one circling her victim, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s careful to keep enough space between them so that her victim doesn’t reciprocate. Our eyes meet over Sam’s supine form. There’s a fire in her that lights up my insides. I nod at her and the corner of her lips curve into a cheeky smile.
I’ve always known that about Duchess. She’s a warrior.
“Well done, Eleanor.” Sam is standing again, brushing the sand from his clothes, “You’re a fast learner.” His gaze roams now over the beach and out along the coast. “We should call it for the day.”
“Time for a Becks?” I raise my bottle.
Sam waves back at me. “I’m fine, dude. I should get back to my place. I’m expecting a lady tonight.”
I chuckle. Sam is a shameless player but he gets away with it. Girls love him, but they also like him. That combo demands an awful amount of untarnished boyish charm.
I like him too, but I can’t stop my fingers from tightening around my beer bottle when my girl hugs him goodbye. She smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Have fun, neighbor.”
Sam’s apartment overlooks West Zuma Beach, as my own house does. It’s a strange twist of fate since Sam shares a past with Lenor. To put it as simply as possible, he held—still holds?—a torch for Josh’s wife… Josh, Lenor’s ex-fiancé. It’s my second beer so I can still articulate this without it sounding totally French.
One month ago—and maybe after one beer too many— he agreed to train Lenor. Turns out she’s a natural.
She’s now rushing up the steps, back to me. Her hair is bound in a tight braid and she’s wearing her favorite sweatpants and a black tank top. She still has that lithe body of hers I love being entangled with, but there are a few more curves enhancing it. Her morning runs on the beach have brought more definition to her muscles and given birth to a tan. It’s never happened before.
She grabs my beer and takes a healthy swig from it. She hands the bottle back to me. Instead of taking it, I palm the back of her head with my hands and pull her against me. I don’t kiss her right away. I want to enjoy her body next to mine, watch how her eyes round in surprise, and then how her pupils dilate with the rush of desire. Her desire for me. Because as drool-worthy Handsome Sam is, I am Lenor’s man. I am the love of her life and she’s the love of mine.
I will never let anyone or anything change that fact.
I duck my head so that my lips caress hers and she lets out a moan that causes my hand to fall along her body to settle on her ass. I pull her hips against mine and she takes ownership of my mouth. We taste and tame each other all over again. I want to scoop her off her feet and carry her to the bedroom, but now is not the time. There’s some news I need to break.
I gently ease her shoulders away to separate us, kiss her forehead, and extract the letter from the back pocket of my jeans.
“This was addressed to both of us, so I’ve opened it. It should have been you. I’m sorry.”
She frowns but takes the envelope anyway. After placing the beer on the deck next to her, she opens it and her eyes roam quickly over the embossed invitation card. Her face remains strangely neutral.
“So he’s getting married again.” She shrugs. “I guess it was to be expected since she’s pregnant.”
“He wants you there. He wants it enough that he’s invited me too. That must have cost him.”
She shrugs again. Over the last year, Lenor has disengaged emotionally from her entire family, except Charlie. Her now cleaned-up mother has visited her once here in Cali and it didn’t go too badly. But Lenor hasn’t mentioned a trip to Paris or invited her back since then. As for her father, there’s been no contact until he called me with the news his new girlfriend was expecting a baby boy. He knows better than to reach out to Lenor directly. He tried once by offering to pay her school fees. She refused his money—and mine for that matter—and told him to go fuck himself. Her words, not mine.
She places the card back in the envelope and leans against the banister, her fingers gripping the railing. She lowers her face, exposing her neck. I kiss her there and mirror her position by leaning against the banister too.
“It’s next month.” I fake enthusiasm. “We could make an occasion of it. You told me you wanted to see Josh and Cassie again… meet Lucas. We’d just have to fly to D.C. from The Hamptons.”
“I can’t take time off. I’ve just started the course, plus there’s my job. I have the weekend shift now, remember?”
“Then quit.”
She gives a small stamp of her foot. “Zach, don’t go there again. I’m keeping that job until I’ve finished the course and start making enough money from photography. Plus, you have these meetings—“
I wave my hand in dismissal. “Please don’t use me as an excuse. I can reschedule those meetings. L.A. nightlife will thrive without my business acumen for a little longer, I’m sure of that.”
She stares down at our elegantly written names on the envelope. I don’t break the silence. Instead I gaze at the last of the surfers enjoying the waves. The breeze plays with Lenor’s hair and a wisp of it brushes against my bare forearm. It’s enough for me to feel home.
“I wonder what kind of father he’ll be to that little boy.” Her voice is dreamy and I choose not to answer. “Will he love him? Will he make him feel like he’s the most important person in the whole world?”
I don’t think Bruce Carrington is capable of a single genuine emotion. Ever. I won’t lie. “I hope so, but I’m not sure he can change.”
Another stretch of silence that I let linger.
“Can we?” she asks with a tremor. Her grip on the railing intensifies.
“Can we what?”
“Can we make a child happy?” She shifts her gaze to the horizon, avoiding mine. “Maybe it’s in our blood, that inability to care for and love our own child.”
There’s a bundle of emotions fighting in the pit of my stomach right now. Panic, fear, anger, to name but a few. Anger at her parents, at mine, at Lenor? No, that’s just frustration. I’ve not rushed her into anything. I’ve not proposed, I’ve not coerced her into moving in with me. She’s still living in that atrocious apartment in Glenwood. I’ve respected her and stood by for as long as she’s needed to grow into her own self.
But there’s one thing in our lives I won’t compromise on, now or ever.
“I want a child with you.”
My declaration focuses her attention in on me. She stiffens and purses her lips. “What if that’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever wanted.”
“How could it be? I love you and I want to share my love for you with a full brood of mini dukes and mini duchesses.”
She chuckles. “How many mini people does your full brood entail exactly?”
“Three or four.”
“Boys or girls?”
“They can all be girls as long as they look like you.”
She throws her head backwards and bursts into laughter. “So no Sunday football practice with Mini Duke?”
“Fuck football.”
She giggles but her expression sobers quickly. “You’ve never talked to me about having kids.” She shuffles on her feet and her focus shifts downwards. “I thought I was the
only one who wanted them.”
I take one step closer and rest my hands on the curve of her waist. “You’re not… but I wanted the past year to be about you and only you. Not the future or the past. But your present.”
She sighs and slowly she returns to looking at me. “Thank you, Zach. Thank you for putting your life on hold to be with me while I’ve been figuring out mine.”
“I haven’t put anything on hold.”
She hushes me with the tip of her finger. “You have and it’s time for life to be about us, not just about me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want us to move in together.”
I fake a grimace. “Now Duchess, you’re pushing it. I’ll never live in that poky flat of yours with those friendly cockroaches—“
“Here. In your house.”
“Deal.”
“Is there anything you haven’t told me yet to spare my fragile self?”
“I want to marry you.”
She flinches and her eyebrows peak. “Are you proposing?”
“Would you say ‘yes’?”
“Yes, I would say ‘yes’.”
I pull her against me and nuzzle against the hollow of her neck. “That’s good to know.”
“Zach, did you just propose?”
“Have some faith in me, Duchess. When I do, I’ll come up with something more dramatic. A helicopter ride, bungee-jumping, sky-diving or some over-the-top shit. You’ll be so scared the prospect of sharing the rest of your life with me will look almost pleasant in comparison.”
“Sharing your life is my dream.” I don’t miss the moistness of her eyes. “I feel so blessed. I never thought it would ever come to me, and I’m so happy it’s with you.”
“Thought what would never come?”
“My turn at love.”
I kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose and each corner of her mouth. “Our turn, Duchess. This time, it’s our turn at love.”
THE END
If you enjoyed You Turn, it would mean a lot to me if you could share the love and write a review. Thank you so much, Marion xoxo
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Acknowledgements
I have never written a book on my own. Sure, I’m the one typing the words on the keyboard, day in, day out, my butt glued to my chair. But I would never have written The End on You Turn without…
Paris. I lived four years of beauty, rock n’ roll, learning, and friendship there. They will never have been so much fun without mes amis. We don’t see each other a lot these days—blame the kids and me having crossed the Pond—but you have made me laugh so much, guys. Special hugs to Capucine and Laurent.
Najla Qamber. You created the cover while I was still writing the first chapters of Zach and Lenor’s story. Your art kept me inspired.
Sara O’Connor. Thank you for squeezing me in and hunting down all those naughty ellipses.
Chanpreet Singh. You have such a kind spirit and I will never forget the note you wrote at the end. It will keep me going next time I feel down.
Steve Parolini. Thanks for making You Turn shorter but better!
Autumn Hull. Your insight into a story is close to genius. Thanks for your patience and waiting for me.
Julie Brazeal. I think I say ‘Thank You’ at the bottom of every email I send you. But that’s just not enough. So let’s try again: MERCI for your generosity and believing in me.
Hector and my girls. Without you, I would have finished writing this story one year ago. But without you, I might not write at all because you are my inspiration. Thank you for loving the reclusive, moody story-teller in me.
Last but not least, I want to thank all my readers. All the words I write are for you.
Want to know more about Josh and Cassie?
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~ Goodreads Top Reviewer, 5 Stars
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“I fell in love with their relationship.”
~ Schmexy Book Blog, 4 Stars
“It is a ‘feel’ book.”
~ The Autumn Review, 4 Stars
A girl who needs to undo the past.
A boy who wants to forget it.
In love, there’s no way back.
At high school in Steep Hill, Kansas, Cassie O’Malley and Josh MacBride were the poster couple for quarterback/cheerleader romance until they starred in their own tale of teen pregnancy. No need to say: their shotgun wedding was low-key. But when there was no baby anymore, they went their separate ways.
Five years later, Josh has breezed through Georgetown and is about to finish his post-grad degree at Oxford University. He is set to join a lobbying group on Capitol Hill, owned by his new fiancée’s father. For Josh, the sky is now the limit… only he must first take care of a tiny legal matter: technically, he’s still married to the girl who broke his heart.
Meanwhile, Cassie has been waiting tables in Steep Hill to pay for her sick grandmother’s care. On the day of the old lady’s funeral, Cassie is served with two sets of papers. Josh is asking for a divorce. Her heart squeezes, but, well, he moved on a long time ago. But the second envelope shakes Cassie to the core. So, for the first time, she leaves Kansas and heads to good ol’ England.
There, Cassie finds that Josh has not just “moved on,” he’s freakin’ engaged to some blue-blooded heiress. The feelings Cassie had buried deep rush back to her. But no matter if he keeps thrusting the divorce papers under her nose, she needs him to save the only person she loves more than Josh, more than life itself…
** You can order No Reverse here: **
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About Marion
Marion loves to share happy vibes, talk book crush, fictional boyfriends and sexual chemistry with like-minded people. And because she spends most of her days on her own deep inside her London writing cave, you are welcome to come and say “hello” from time to time. Just to make sure she doesn’t sink into insanity. Her friends, family and arch-enemies (there are quite a few) will be forever grateful for your help.
Her debut novel, Oxford Whispers, a New Adult paranormal romance, won the IndieReader Discovery Award, 2013. Her contemporary romances, No Reverse and Fast Forward, were Amazon bestsellers, both in the New Adult and Kindle Top 50 charts.
To be the first to know of upcoming releases, please join Marion’s Newsletter (there will be no spamming and no drowning your inbox).
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Email: [email protected]
** SNEAK PEEK **
No Reverse
PROLOGUE
JOSH
Steep Hill ~ November, six years earlier.
The dozens of eyes set on me don’t make me break a sweat.
I don’t give a shit about what those people think right now. The church could just as well be empty since the girl I love isn’t here. Mom didn’t send out any invitations after I proposed to Cassie two weeks ago. Still, half the town has found its way to the church where Reverend Beasley will marry us.
That was supposed to happen twenty minutes ago.
“She won’t screw this one up, Josh. She loves you.” Woodie, my best man and wide receiver, whispers in my ear. His chubby face is all flushed. He’s embarrassed. That’s how I should be feeling. Only I don’t.
“She’ll be here soon,” I answer back. “Cass’s never been on time for anything. She won’t start with her own wedding.”
When I try to reassure Woodie, my eyes meet those of my dad, dark and stern, just like mine. His tight jaw screams a loud and fat “I told you so.” Good Ol’ Jack MacBride has never been Cassie O’Malley’s number-one fan, even back when we were kids and she used to climb the co
ttonwood tree to reach my bedroom window. To him, Cass has always been bad news.
He’s the only one who knows the price I’m ready to pay to take care of her and our unborn baby.
But the truth, pure and simple? I would risk everything to be with her. Cassie is the only future I want. Whether I take her and the baby with me to Georgetown, or to our community college, it only matters that we go there as a family.
“Jesus. H. Christ,” Woodie bursts out. “Her grandma’s arrived.”
My lungs can’t help puffing out some of the air I didn’t know was trapped inside. Mrs. O’Malley has finally arrived, and, with her, hopefully Cassie. Mrs. O. is the gentlest of all ladies. Acute diabetes makes her look older than her sixty years. Her skin has always had that same waxy complexion and she’s underweight. But now, she smiles back at me and answers my silent question with a nod. Mrs. O. and I, we’ve always understood each other.
Judging by where Mrs. O’Malley’s gaze is directed—somewhere behind the half-open door of the church—my girl is about to walk down the aisle.
Woodie hyperventilates. “Okay now, look ahead and only turn back when I tell you to do so.”
As if he’s the one getting married to Cassie, and maybe he wishes he were, Woodie glues his eyes on the whitewashed wall behind Reverend Beasley, who clears his throat. A drop of sweat tracks down his temple. Clearly everyone has been freaking out thinking that I’d been dumped at the altar.
When the organist starts playing, my heartbeat breaks into a home-run sprint and a lump fills my throat. I have to see her.
Three.
Two.
One.
I look back and steal a first glance at her. The sight punches me straight in the stomach. She’s so beautiful in her gran’s wedding dress. The look is ‘70s, I guess. Her hands hold a bouquet of daisies and her hair, the color of a cornflower field, cascades over her shoulders and down her back.
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