Unforgettable: The Complete Series (A Sexy Cinderella Standalone Love Story)

by Nelle L'Amour

  Inside, I’m simmering. She just called me a fattie. Well, I’ll show her. In a calm, collected voice, I assure her it will.

  Doubt is written all over her face. “Very well. Let’s give it a try.”

  While she removes the ring from the case, I plant my hands on the glass countertop.

  Beatrice’s eyes widen with surprise. “Why, I think it’ll fit you just fine. You have the most elegant fingers I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you,” I say proudly. Thank you, Mama.

  She sets the ring on another velvet pad. My eyes stay fixed on it. It’s so, so beautiful.

  “This is one of our newest settings. Many young brides prefer a colored stone to a traditional diamond. This one consists of a five-carat amethyst of the highest quality. The Trillian baguettes weigh over a carat. I think it will look lovely on you.”

  My heart and hands tremble in unison as I slip the exquisite ring onto my long, slender ring finger. It fits perfectly. Holding up my left hand, I admire it. My heart hammers against my chest.

  Beatrice flashes a smile. “It fits you perfectly, and it looks absolutely stunning on your hand.”

  “It does.” My voice is small and dreamy.

  My eyes stay riveted on it. My pulse speeds up. Yes, this is the ring I’d want Brandon to give me.

  Beatrice cuts my fantasy short. “Should I put a hold on it, dear?”

  “Yes,” I mutter. A permanent hold.

  “Wonderful. Why don’t you and your boyfriend come back over the weekend? You can show it to him. When he sees it on your hand, I’m sure he won’t be able to resist.”

  I twitch a faint smile. “We’ll try to do that.” The tone of my voice is far from chipper. While Beatrice assures me the ring will be waiting for me, the assistant returns with a gift-wrapped blue box containing Katrina’s birthday present.

  “Enjoy your lovely necklace,” Beatrice says as she places it inside a small Tiffany-blue shopping bag. Just like the one Audrey carried in the movie.

  I take one long last look at the amethyst ring before I remove it from my finger. Reality stares back at me. Who am I kidding? Even if Brandon wasn’t engaged, he’d never marry an overweight nobody like me. My aching heart tanks. There’s no rainbow’s end for me.

  Chapter 34

  Zoey

  With now the heaviest of hearts, I run a few more errands for Brandon in Beverly Hills. I drop off a pair of his expensive Italian loafers at the “shoemaker to the stars” for re-soling, go to the beauty supply store to pick up more of his favorite grooming products, and then run into an exclusive wine store to pick up a bottle of Cristal—which I’m sure is for Katrina. Of course…he’ll propose a toast before he showers her with that gorgeous necklace.

  I have one last chore before I head back: a stop at a store in West Hollywood called The Pleasure Chest. A package is waiting there to be picked up under the name “John Steele.” Another birthday present for Katrina?

  When I step into the store, my eyes grow wide with shock. It sure as hell isn’t Tiffany’s. It’s an emporium filled to the gills with all kinds of sex toys and accessories for both men and women. To my amazement, it’s packed with customers, including many who look like they’re close to sixty. I guess with the huge success of Fifty Shades, everyone’s into kinky sex. An unsettling thought hits me: Is this the kind of sex Brandon and Katrina have? Or maybe tonight they’re going to experiment, and he’s going to surprise her with some birthday toys?

  With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension—and an undeniable twinge of jealousy—I wander up and down the aisles. In the toy aisle, there are dildos and vibrators in every shape, size, and color, ranging from monstrous latex cocks to tiny vibrating bullets. I gravitate to one of the vibrators. “Sparky.” It’s molded like a huge pink penis and has an amusing rabbit ear attachment.

  “Bubala, get that one,” says a petite silver-haired lady standing next to me. She’s got to be in her eighties and looks familiar—like maybe she’s on TV or something. I’m sure I’ve seen her photo in one of those gossip magazines. She blabbers on in what sounds to be a Yiddish accent.

  “Trust me, the other ones are feh. My Luigi loves using this vun. OY! Vee have so much fun. He loves to vatch me come! He says it’s so sexy shmexy.”

  Her adorable bluntness cheers me up a bit. I have to bite down on my tongue to stifle laughter. “Thanks for the recommendation,” I say while she throws a couple of vibrating eggs into her shopping basket and sprightly heads down the aisle.

  I follow “Grandma” down the next aisle, where she loads up on blindfolds, paddles, handcuffs, and whips. Everything you need for the total BDSM experience. “Have you ever tried these?” she asks me, holding up a small package. Nipple clamps!

  “Don’t they hurt?” I reply.

  “I don’t know, bubala. Ve’re going to try them out tonight. Surprise your boyfriend.”

  She takes off while I continue to explore the various accessories. Rhinestone-studded cuffs with a leash? I have to admit I’m as aroused as I’m awed. Kinky eye candy.

  My inquisitive mind wonders—what kind of toys does Brandon use? In my wildest fantasies, I’ve never imagined him using any. But now in my mind’s eye, I picture him totally naked, wielding a whip. Handcuffed to a bed, I’m on all fours, wearing nothing but the skimpiest leather thong. My ass is in the air.

  “You’ve been a naughty girl, Zoey.”

  Oh have I! I nod my head feverishly.

  “And do you know what happens to naughty girls?”

  I flinch and squeak out “no.”

  “They get punished.”

  On my next harsh breath, he growls and strikes the leather against the flesh of my ample ass. I wince in pain. And then another lash and yet another, not stopping until I’m screaming out with erotic sobs. Satisfied, he sits down on the edge of the bed and flips me over his knees, He caresses my fiery ass. The pain dissolves into exquisite pleasure but not for long. Whack! A paddle crashes down on my sore ass.

  “Do you like being spanked, Zoey?”

  “Oh yes!” I moan out.

  Whack! And then another and another. I lose count. My moans morph into whimpers that get louder with each strike.

  In my mind, I feel the sting, but in my core, I feel hot tingles. Fire and wetness co-mingle between my legs. I have the burning desire to touch myself, to make myself come. A hand reaches down, but just as my fingertips crawl to my hot, throbbing center, a voice sounds in my ear. My hand flies off my crotch.

  “Can I help you find anything?” An androgynous, spiky-hair male in leather fetish attire faces me. A salesperson. Piercings dot his nose, lips, and ears, and tattoos glove his upper limbs.

  Mortification races through me. “No, um, I’m good. I’m just here to pick something up. Where might I find my order?”

  The young sales associate tells me it’s probably at the cashier. Sheepishly, I turn in that direction.

  The inky hair girl behind the counter could be the twin sister to that kinky sales dude. She’s similarly clad in black leather with an abundance of piercings and tattoos; maybe it’s The Pleasure Chest employee uniform. I ask her if she has a package for someone named John Steele. It doesn’t surprise me Brandon used a pseudonym. The last thing he’d want would be for it to get out that he’s some kind of pervert and frequents this place.

  She smiles, revealing a tiny ring on the tip of her tongue. “Yeah. I have it right here.” She reaches below the counter and produces a surprisingly small bag. I have no clue as to what might be inside. There’s a part of me that wants to ask. And there’s a part of me that wants to flee and leave the package behind. And tell Brandon that they misplaced whatever he ordered. Or didn’t have it in stock so I can ruin his night with Katrina. But my loyalty to him and work ethic triumph over deceit.

  “How much?” I ask with hesitation.

  “It comes to forty-three fifty. Would you like me to charge it to Mr. Steele’s account? He’s on file with us.”

 
; I blink hard. Brandon has an account here? Does he know this, or is this something he’s forgotten with his amnesia? Either way, the shocking news feeds into my wildest imaginings. Gah! Maybe he’s like one of those men I’ve read about in my erotic romances who has a secret playroom where he stashes all his toys, fetishes, and gizmos. In my head, I picture a dark dungeon filled with spanking benches, ropes dangling from the ceiling, and racks of whips, paddles, and floggers. I inwardly shudder, but to say I’m not aroused would be a lie. A new tingly sensation invades my inner thighs.

  Asking me again how I wish to pay, the cashier breaks into my deviant thoughts and causes me to startle. I just can’t get over the possibility that Brandon is into kink.

  “Cash,” I stammer. Brandon was insistent I pay with cash and not use any of his credit cards. And maybe he doesn’t want me to know he has an account here if, in fact, he remembers. Understandably, a mega-star like Brandon has to take extra special precautions to guard his identity at a place like this. I can only begin to imagine how far the tabloids would take a story about his secret kinkery.

  At under fifty dollars, whatever he’s bought here for Katrina isn’t too expensive—certainly not some diamond-studded leash to latch on to her new necklace. I do a little math in my head. There’s enough money for me to buy something. My mind lands on that pink vibrator with the cute rabbit ears that “Grandma” recommended. Why not? A job perk. Make that a necessity. The next time I get jealous or angry over Brandon and Katrina—or just plain horny—I’ll use it and get off on myself. It beats smashing things. I may even start tonight. On the way back to his house, I’ll stop off at an ATM machine and get some money to pay him back. While I’m sure he wouldn’t miss the money, stealing from someone is not a value I was raised with. I can easily afford to put the charge on one of my credit cards, but just like Brandon, I don’t want my name affiliated with this store in any way. In this town, word travels fast and with the Internet, even faster.

  “Hold on, I’ll be right back. I want to get one more thing,” I tell the cashier. I dash back to the aisle with the toys and make a beeline for the vibrator. Just one left! I grab it and then run back to her. She’s patiently waited for me despite the long line of vexed customers.

  “Thanks for waiting. I want this too, but please put it in a separate bag.”

  “Sure. Good choice. You’re going to love it.”

  Not as much as I love him.

  She rings me up again. The total now comes to a little under a hundred dollars. Wow! That vibrator was expensive; it better work wonders. With a shopping bag in each hand, I head back to my car, in a much better mood and eager to find out what Brandon bought for Katrina. I’m so bad. The minute I get into my Mini, I look inside the bag. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

  A dozen packages of mega-size condoms and a little toy. The Magic Cock Ring. Taking the toy out from the bag, I read the label on the package: “Guaranteed to make your erection bigger, stronger, and last longer.” God, knowing the size of Brandon’s cock, I don’t think it can get any bigger. And for sure, he doesn’t have a problem getting it up. But I’m shocked at the possibility that he needs help in the endurance department. Are he and Katrina having problems? My mind flashes back to that deep tissue massage I gave him. He hinted at ED. Maybe Katrina’s birthday won’t be so happy. Whoo hoo! With renewed optimism, I take one more look-see at my new toy. I love it and can’t wait to try it out. While they’re struggling, I’ll be coming. I insert my car key into the ignition and whip out of the parking lot.

  All this fantasizing has worked up my appetite. I’m starving. And I know what I’m craving. A big fat hot dog. God, that’s phallic! Screw my diet! I can’t wait to wrap my mouth around one. And I know just the place to get one of the best ones in town.

  Located off Fairfax Avenue, The Farmer’s Market is an iconic Los Angeles food court that’s popular with locals, tourists, and even celebrities. I love it because it’s so unpretentious, and it’s the home of my favorite hot dog stand. Fritzi Dog.

  After finding a spot in the jammed parking lot, I head into the busy open-air market. As I get close to my destination, the tantalizing smell of hot dogs grilling wafts up my nose, making me even more ravenous. Not only do they have beef hot dogs, but you can also order pork, duck, and even carrot ones. The line is long, but it moves quickly. While I should order the low-calorie carrot one, nothing but the beef one on a toasted bun will do. I force myself to pass on the potato tots and additionally order a Diet Coke. Holding a tray with my order, I wander through the market in search of a place to sit. While there are hundreds of tables scattered throughout the vast space, it’s always super crowded no matter what time of day.

  As I turn into another packed aisle, I see Brandon’s manager Scott seated at a table, talking to a stranger whose back is to me. Scott’s ruddy face is pinched—it looks like some angry words are being passed back and forth—and then he slams his fist on the table. Maybe I should just leave. Seeing him twice in one day is more than I can handle. I detest Scott, and he knows it. He’s rude and uncouth. A total slimebucket. But my hunger trumps my second thoughts. I amble toward the only table available—the one behind Scott’s. I’ll just say hello and face away. I’ve brought along my Kindle.

  As I near the table, the man, with whom Scott is arguing, leaps up. “You fucked up once. Don’t do it again,” I overhear him say. His tone is gruff and threatening.

  “Okay, okay,” replies Scott. “I’ll take care of it.” His voice is a tremor, and sweat clusters on his brows. He looks like a frightened mouse.

  The other man turns around. I stop dead in my tracks. All at once, my blood ices over, my body freezes, and cold sweat pours from every crevice of my being. His venomous gaze meets mine. It’s him! He doesn’t recognize me, but I recognize him. Yes, he’s twenty years older, but I’d recognize that face anytime, anywhere. Those dark beady eyes, pockmarked skin, and squashed nose that looks like it’s been broken a thousand times.

  Oh my God! It’s the man who shot Mama!

  The aftershock of my discovery hits my system like a thunderous bolt of lightening. I feel the sky fall from under me, and, on my next gasp, I’m crashing like a tailless plane to the ground.

  BANG!

  Oh the pain!

  And then…

  FADE TO BLACK.

  END OF BOOK 1

  PRAISE FOR UNFORGETTABLE 2

  “It’s so damn good I’m at a loss for words as to how amazing it is. Mystery…murder… animalistic passion…and tender love. The recipe for a perfect read!”

  —The Erotic Book Blog

  “Nelle L’Amour is diabolically brilliant in keeping me on the edge of my seat with twists and turns. The chemistry (between Brandon and Zoey) has been threatening to blow up my Kindle. SCORCHING HOT, EXPLOSIVE sexy scenes.”

  —The Power of Three Readers

  “Even better than the first book!”

  —Goodreads Reviewer

  “One of the best books of the year. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for the next book.”

  —Jazzy Book Blog

  “The characters blow my mind away. The way the words flow and the storyline come together is pure magic. I couldn’t get enough.”

  —Johnny-Marie Howard, blogger.

  “The night of passion that Brandon and Zoey had was super duper hot. My God, I was literally fanning myself.”

  —Britanny’s Book Blog

  “A blazing fire! The book is full of surprises and twists…kept me reading and not wanting to put the book down.”

  —As You Like It Reviews

  “Wow! The ending of this book…I’m speechless. This series keeps getting better and better. This is a series you will love.”

  —Wicked Babes Blog Reviews

  “What a read! Major book hangover! Roll on Unforgettable 3!”

  —Crazy Cajun Book Addicts.

  Unforgettable

  BOOK TWO

  Nelle L’Am
our

  Copyright © 2015 by Nelle L’Amour

  All rights reserved

  First Edition: December 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental.

  No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this ebook at the authorized online outlets.

  TO JOIN MY MAILING LIST FOR NEW RELEASES AND SALES, PLEASE SIGN UP HERE:

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  Cover by Arijana Karcic, Cover It! Designs

  Proofreading by Mary Jo Toth

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  Dedication

  For all my readers. You are the reason I write.

  “Somehow you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.”

  —Dr. Seuss

  Chapter 1

  Brandon

  I haven’t left Zoey’s side. When I found out yesterday she was taken to the hospital, I canceled my dinner date with Katrina and rushed to Cedars. Needless to say, my fiancée wasn’t happy. In fact, she was furious. How dare I bale out of her birthday because of some stupid bump on the head!

  Actually, it’s more than just a little bump. An MRI showed Zoey sustained a serious concussion when she fainted at The Farmer’s Market. The doctors don’t know what caused her to pass out. Thank God, there’s no major brain damage. She’s going to be okay.

  I’ve had the hospital upgrade her to a luxurious private suite. If her insurance doesn’t cover it, I’ll take care of the exorbitant cost. I can easily afford it, and she deserves the best. As I vigilantly watch over her from an armchair beside her bed, a sense of déjà vu washes over me.