by Nicki Night
After a quick sit-down for dessert, Drew and Alana hopped back on the bike and returned to his house. The sun had begun to make a remarkable descent as they reached home—casting variations of orange along the horizon. They carried the two bottles of wine and the chocolates into the kitchen. Drew took Alana by the hand and led her to the enclosed patio out back. Alana switched on the light and screamed.
“Surprise!” their family and friends yelled together.
Bent over with one hand over her heart and one covering her mouth, Alana laughed. Cadence, Blake, Chey, Hunter, Mr. and Mrs. Barrington and her own parents were all there, laughing too. After she hugged everyone, she spun around to scold Drew for almost scaring the life out of her. When she turned, he was down on one knee.
Alana’s breath caught and tears rolled down her face. Drew stood with the largest and most beautiful heart-shaped diamond she’d ever seen.
He stared into her glistening eyes. “We’ve been through so much. I found out what it was like to experience life without you and decided it’s better with you by my side. Now that I’ve made you love me, will you—”
“Yes!” she yelled. “Of course, I’ll marry you!”
Alana jumped into his arms. He lifted her, swinging her around. Everyone in the room cheered. Drew put her down and their lips connected. It felt like they were the only ones in the room.
Someone cleared his throat and they finally tore themselves away from each other. Everyone laughed all over again. Drew placed the ring on her finger. Alana admired it, holding her hand high.
“Let me see!” Cadence ran over to look at Alana’s ring. Chey was right behind her.
Alana held her hand out, presenting her prized jewel.
“Oh! That. Is. Beautiful,” Chey said.
“Come here, Evelyn. Let’s go inspect this thing.” Joyce waved Alana’s mother over. The fathers gave each other a quick glance and chuckled.
“Hmm.” Joyce examined the ring first and held Alana’s hand toward her mother.
“I see...” Evelyn peered over her glasses, turning Alana’s finger from one side to the other. Alana set her other hand on her hip, sniggering at their mothers.
They looked at each other. “He did well,” they said at the same time and burst into laughter.
“Did someone say it was party time?” Blake held up a bottle of champagne.
“That’s what I heard,” Hunter added with his hand behind his ear.
For the first time since entering the patio, Alana noticed the table full of food and drinks.
“Blake, put our song on,” Drew yelled over the chatter.
“You’ve got it, baby brother.”
Seconds later, “I’m Gonna Make You Love Me” by the Supremes filled the room. Blake moved the furniture back, creating space for a dance floor. Everyone took their lovers by the hand and danced to Drew and Alana’s theme song.
“You won’t get away again,” Drew declared.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere.” Alana lifted onto her toes. Drew leaned down toward her and they rubbed noses.
Once again, their lips connected in a sweet lock. Alana had finally found her prince.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS SOUTHERN SWEETHEART by Carolyn Hector.
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His Southern Sweetheart
by Carolyn Hector
Chapter 1
With the four-hundred-thread-count eggshell-colored Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around her feet, Amelia Marlow kicked the material off the edge of the bed and wrapped her legs around the muscular calves of her partner. Their chests rose and fell in unison in the afterglow of their phenomenal evening of marathon lovemaking.
“So,” they both breathed at the same time.
A sly grin spread across her face at the way the two of them had hit it off, from the time they met at the bar to the last wave of their orgasms. If she didn’t know any better, she would have expected their first meeting to have been scripted. Six-foot-two with golden-bronze skin poured over steel muscles that no T-shirt could hide. His eyes were emerald green and had been focused on her the moment he filled the bar doorway. Hot didn’t even begin to describe this man. Like every woman there, he’d caught her attention the minute he walked in. Who knew a couple of hours ago, when he’d walked directly over to her and offered to buy her a drink, that they’d end up with a nightcap in her hotel room? The first few moments, their conversation had been a string of flirty awkwardness and now here they were, speaking at the same time.
“You first,” he said.
“Didn’t I already?” Amelia replied with a purr.
He turned his head and pressed his lips against her bare shoulder. “I thought we might want to exchange names.”
The point of a one-night stand meant no need to exchange names. She raised her brows. “You first.”
“Nate,” he said, squaring his jaw. “Nate Reyes.”
The roll of his R across his tongue set a ripple of a reminder of his talents a few moments ago. “Amelia, Amelia Marlow.”
Nate Reyes rolled to his right side, rested his head against his propped-up elbow and began to trace a pattern down from her chin to the center between her breasts with his forefinger. Subconsciously Amelia rested her hands against her stomach in attempt to make her breasts perky. The point of her elbow brushed against the hard contours of his ripped abs.
“And may I further say,” she began, despite the heat rising up from her chest across her cheekbones, “this honestly isn’t the type of thing I go around doing.”
His response came in a casual shrug. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you did. I enjoyed myself this evening.”
“Me, too.”
The last time Amelia took a break from her job was probably never. Ever since the world had become enamored with reality shows, being on top of her game had become a necessity. As a field producer for MET, she’d found that personal relationships dwindled. Right now she was on the fast track for a seat on the throne as one of Multi-Ethnic Television’s future showrunners. Amelia busted her ass as a runner, becoming a field producer, following around the station’s biggest reality
celebrities as they tweeted across the globe. Some days her current job seemed more like a glorified babysitter. Reality TV celebrity Natalia Ruiz was becoming bored with being followed 24/7 for her hit show, Azúcar. When a star was bored, so were the viewers. Amelia shook her head to get her job out of her mind. Why think about work when a smoking-hot man lay naked beside her?
“I want to see you again.”
“I am only in Atlanta for the weekend. I’m checking out tomorrow.” Amelia shook her head left to right. Strands of hair brushed against her dewy skin. The cute flip hairstyle she’d gotten done today now flopped. He was worth it.
“So am I.” Nate rolled onto his back. “We need to do this again, soon.”
Amelia shifted to her side and faced him. She wished she hadn’t kicked the sheets to the floor. Instead of hiding her not-so-toned frame with covers, she curled her knees up to her chest as much as her non-yoga-perfected body would allow. Why hadn’t she taken some lessons during the Azúcar episode with Natalia?
“My schedule is demanding,” Amelia began. She had no time for relationships with her jet-setting schedule. The red light of the digital clock on the nightstand on the other side of the bed read sometime after midnight. She was surprised she hadn’t heard from her executive producer or the cameramen. Did she seriously get a few hours to herself? Well, she countered herself, not all by herself.
Nate lifted his almond-shaped eyes to hers. The faint smell of coconut rum lingered on his full lips. He had a low Caesar-style haircut and the most delectable caramel skin. A half sleeve of petroglyphs or a tribal tattoo decorated the length of his muscular bicep. Thanks to interning as a part of the camera crew for MET’s show featuring tattoo artists, she understood the sun design to be part of a Taíno Indian culture. Amelia’s heart fluttered with excitement for remembering the detail.
“So this is seriously going to be a one-night stand?”
“I believe we need to think of tonight as one special moment.” Amelia sighed. “I need to get back to work.”
“It’s after midnight.” Nate propped himself up on his elbow and raised his brows.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, contorting the upper half of her body over the side of the bed. Her hands searched around on the floor for the slacks she’d kicked out of and came across her navy, polka-dot bra and panties. As she tucked the undergarments in, her fingertips brushed across the soft beige carpet, reading it like braille for the pants until she found the hem strewn halfway across her hotel floor. The material of her pants was rolled over a shoe or a heel. She was glad the lamp lights were off. She’d have hated to see clearly what the room looked like. As it was, the full moon’s light spilled from the balcony’s open drapes and offered a view of the wreckage they’d created from tearing off each other’s clothes. She was sure they’d knocked everything off the dresser in their state of passion.
“What kind of work forces you out after midnight?” asked Nate before choking on a stifled laugh. “Wait, do I want to know?”
From her awkward angle, Amelia playfully tapped her foot against his broad chest. He captured her by the heel and kissed her big toe. Amelia jumped forward, found her cell phone and sat upright in the bed. She swore as the blue light indicating a message flashed furiously. The mattress behind her dipped and the heat from Nate’s body warmed her backside when he pulled her into his arms. As she tried to read her messages on her phone, his arms caressed the swell of her breasts. Amelia sunk into the warmth of him. Perhaps she had a few more minutes to respond to the swelling erection pressed against her backside. A rueful smile crept across her face, knowing she probably needed to stock up on sex. Lord only knew when she’d meet a man like this again.
The trail of kisses he left on her collarbone sizzled against her skin. Desire throbbed through every inch of her body. The shrill of her phone filled the silent room, shocking her system much like a bucket of ice dumped on her.
“Do you need to answer your phone?” he asked, kissing the tip of her earlobe and moving toward the side of her mouth. His large hands moved down her rib cage to the V of her thighs.
“No,” she gasped. The phone stopped ringing. A half second later someone banged on her hotel door. Amelia turned the lights on by the switch beside her bed. “But I must answer that.”
“Should I hide?” he asked, making no move to do so or effort to cover his naked and ready body.
The pounding on the door rattled the frame, the extra lock jingling against the bolt. Amelia jumped into her slacks, sans undergarments, turning her back to him as she zipped and buttoned herself. She cast a glance over her shoulder and raised a brow. “Are you in the habit of finding women who make you hide afterward?”
“Touché.”
Her phone began to ring again and this time when she glanced Natalia’s face appeared on the caller ID. From the other side of the door, her current boss banged and began to yell her name. Amelia’s eyes cringed with embarrassment as William Vickers cursed.
“Oh, hell no.” Nate moved from the bed. Naked, he stormed toward the door with his hand stretched outward for the doorknob. “Boyfriend or not, no man should speak to you this way.”
“Wait!” Partly panicked and partly impressed with Nate’s chivalry, Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed. She missed the gallantry of men these days. In the production world, manners were seriously lacking. “He’s kind of my boss, not my boyfriend, and if you don’t mind, I need you to step into the bathroom.”
“Why?”
Amelia’s eyes drifted to his naked, hard frame. It’d be a shame to have to cover or hide a beautiful body such as his. “Whatever’s going on with my job, I don’t want him thinking it was because of a romp in the hay.”
For half a minute, while William continued to knock, Nate stood in front of her, staring her down. Reluctantly he turned to head toward the bathroom. The view from behind was just as beautiful. “And it’s a bed, not hay,” he mumbled before closing the door.
Once the other door clicked closed, Amelia crossed the room and opened the door just a crack. “Are you crazy?”
William, mobile showrunner of MET, stood stock-still, hand raised in the air. Still dressed in a pin-striped business suit from the editing dinner, he narrowed his dark eyes at Amelia. He craned his neck to try and peer in through the crack she kept open. “What the hell are you up to?” His bulbous nostrils flared with his question.
“Sleeping?”
“You’re a field producer of a reality show where it is your job to follow your star around.”
“And she’s asleep,” Amelia gritted out between her teeth.
Of all the people to come and tell her how to do her job, William standing here irritated her the most. They’d both started out at MET as runners for cable television reality shows, doing errands for the directors, showrunners and field producers. They’d both vied for the same executive producer opening. And while William might have been the mobile showrunner with all the power to make creative and directive decisions, everyone on set listened to Amelia. She and her group of cameramen had their jobs down pat. William wanted this assignment for the chance to work with the Caribbean royal family, the Ruizes. Everyone at MET wanted the chance to head over to the Ruiz compound in San Juan, Puerto Rico, to film footage for Azúcar. Thanks to the quick friendship she and Natalia had forged, Amelia had earned the honors to work with the icon for the commercial.
“You sure?” William bared his teeth while his upper lip curled. His puffy hand thrust forward, shoving his cell phone toward her face. Amelia’s already blown-out back ached from the base of her spine as she leaned backward to focus on the picture of Natalia having an intimate dinner with a bearded stranger. The corners of William’s mouth turned upward and his eyes roamed the part of her body visible through the door. Amelia reached for the phone but William pulled it away. “You dropped the ball in order to get your beauty res
t.”
“She said she was going to bed and I am allowed some personal time.”
“For as long as you’ve been babysitting her,” William gritted, “when did she say she wanted a quiet evening?”
Jesus, no wonder Natalia had been so sweet this evening. How long had she been planning this rendezvous? And who was this mystery man? Amelia documented Natalia’s life practically twenty-four hours out of the day. She’d never seen the man on the screen. Only the side of his face showed from William’s phone, but Amelia knew if she waited long enough, more pictures would be plastered over the internet. “Where is she now?”
“Hell if I know. Whoever is blogging said the two of them parted and went their separate ways after dinner. Damn shame we didn’t get any of this on film. Do you understand what our ratings would be like? If Natalia’s ready to start dating, we could have a bachelorette spin-off.”
Ratings were not an issue for Amelia as long as Natalia stayed interested in being in the public eye. Lately, however, she hadn’t enjoyed it too much—neither of them. The closer she grew to Natalia, the more Amelia liked her. They were friends. Unlike Natalia, Amelia was a far cry from an heiress.
“Are you even listening to me?” William’s bark snapped Amelia out of her pity party.
She straightened her spine and shook her head while closing her door. “Give me a minute and I’ll go find her.” The door clicked closed, locking William out of her life for a brief moment.
“She’s not in her room,” William shouted from the other side of the door.
Dressed, Nate stepped out from the bathroom. Amelia’s heart sunk with disappointment. She gave him a half smile and inhaled deeply as he crossed the room toward her.
“I take it you’ve got to go?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes focused on the center of his defined chest. The maroon V-neck T-shirt he wore hugged his pecs and arms. The first thing about him she’d spotted was his bicep when he reached across the bar downstairs to pay for a round of drinks. She’d always adored a man with nice arms.