by Sophia Renny
It was New Year’s Day. A day of renewal, of fresh beginnings.
His brother stood beside him. Joe and Willa had been married for over two months now. Willa’s pregnancy was already beginning to show.
It wouldn’t be long now before Julia would look the same. She’d been right; their child had very likely been conceived the first night they’d made love.
Julia’s mother sat beside Sylvie in the front pew. Both of them were already crying happy tears.
Across the aisle, Audrey King sent him a big wink.
He winked back.
Julia reached the bottom of the altar. He stepped down to take her hand from her father’s.
“Hello, wife.”
“Hello, husband.”
They shared a secret smile.
“Will you come outside and play with me?” he whispered.
“Yes, I will.”
As the congregation of family and friends laughed and clapped, he placed a tender kiss on her lovely mouth.
“Thank you, Julia.” he whispered, his eyes reflecting the love beaming from hers. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
About the Author
Sophia Renny loves Romance, Chocolate, and Pinot Noir. When she's not writing about strong yet vulnerable men and the women who love them, she can most often be found ignoring housework for the pleasure of engaging in fierce Scrabble competitions with her sweetheart. Yes, she did fall in love with him at first sight.
If you enjoyed this book, please share a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads– even if it’s just a line or two! Your feedback is invaluable in helping other readers discover Sophia’s work. Thank you in advance for your time and consideration.
Feel free to drop a kind word to Sophia via her website: www.sophiarenny.com or message her via Goodreads or her Amazon Author Page.
Follow Sophia's blog by email for email for updates on future publications.
Also by Sophia Renny
Room 1208
Rhode Island Romance Series:
If Ever I Fall
**Continue reading for previews**
If Ever I Fall – Preview
Room 1208 - Preview
If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance, Book One)
Copyright © 2015 Sophia Renny
For the first time in her life, Willa is free to do as she pleases. No longer under the control of her domineering father, she seeks solitude in the Rhode Island house bequeathed to her by her aunt. But her newfound peace is disrupted when her well-meaning friends enter her name in a raffle for a total home makeover, and Willa wins.
Socially awkward by nature, Willa balks when she learns that the remodel will be featured as an episode for a new television reality series starring two brothers—local general contractors, Joe and Tony Rossetti. Determined to honor her aunt’s memory, she eventually agrees to move forward with the project.
When she opens her front door to the brothers on the first day of shooting, she will soon discover that she has opened the door to a man who could fulfill all the yearnings of her secret heart.
[Recommended for a mature audience]
Excerpt:
“No one can hurt you like that anymore, Willa,” he promised, his chest rumbling against her cheek. “I won’t allow it.”
Something in his voice made her stiffen and pull back. His grip tightened, and she was only able to draw back far enough to look up at him. She frowned. “I’m not Sylvie or Tony. I’m not another orphan you need to take under your wing.”
His eyes flared. His cheeks turned ruddy. “Is that what you think this is?” he asked fiercely. “Is that really what you think?”
Her heart lurched at the strange mix of emotions storming across his face: anger, guilt, confusion and an unmistakable desire—the same feelings that were tumbling around inside of her. “No,” she whispered. “But what I’m thinking. It’s not right.”
He took a step backwards, but his hands still gripped her forearms as if he didn’t have the power to let her go. “I have been in hell since you opened the door that first day,” he said. “Absolute hell. And there’s no way out.”
With this starkly spoken confession, he abruptly released her. He took another step back. He rubbed his face with shaking hands, and then slid them into his hair, fingers clenching his skull. He stood like that for a few breathless seconds before pivoting away from her, hands braced on his hips, his harsh features in profile as he glared into the distance.
Available on Amazon
Room 1208
Copyright © 2013 by Sophia Renny
Maggie’s life hasn’t been an easy one. But in the last two years she’s made giant strides towards overcoming the repercussions of a devastating childhood. Now thirty years old, she’s ready to jump the final hurdle that stands between her past and a new life free from low self-esteem and old hurts.
Taking that leap requires the cooperation of a handsome gentleman she spies across a busy airport hotel lounge. Neither one of them foresees the depth of passion shared on that magical night, a passion that is astonishing and profound.
One night is all that Maggie expects, all that she’s planned on. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans…
[This book is intended for mature audiences]
If it hadn’t been for his laughter she wouldn’t have chosen him.
He was the first man she’d noticed when her eyes made an initial subtle sweep through the lounge area. She’d intentionally chosen a small table next to the piano, pretending fascination with the fedora-wearing hipster slouched over the keys. As she took cautious sips of her skinny margarita, her upper body swayed in a slight, graceful tempo with the slow, bluesy tune. I’m just here enjoying the music, relaxing after a busy day. Don’t bother me. That was the body language she hoped she was portraying.
She’d dismissed him almost immediately because he was good looking in a way that only made her feel more nervous and anxious than she already was. Seriously, he was devastatingly handsome—the kind of handsome that had practically every other woman in the lounge giving him increasingly more brazen come-hither smiles and glances; the kind of handsome that had the cocktail waitresses commiserating with one another in a corner as, one by one, they failed to capture his attention with their rolling hips and cherry-red lipstick.
He was sitting with three other men in a booth at the front of the lounge near the entrance to the hotel lobby. They were all wearing business suits. He was the only one who faced her directly. Two of the men had their backs to her, the third was in profile. They seemed to be having a business meeting of some sort. As she watched them it became clear that the three other men were giving a presentation, one of them sliding his finger across a tablet screen while the other two took turns speaking.
If she hadn’t been a woman on a mission she might have enjoyed watching the scene before her and anticipating how it played out. Would any of the women eventually entice him? Would he buy what the other men were evidently selling? Only fifteen or twenty minutes had gone by since she’d walked into the lounge, but she’d wasted too much time already. She had to act quickly before her self-confidence, already dangling on a very fine thread, completely slipped away.
There were a couple of average Joes sitting at the bar watching the basketball game that was playing on mute in the background. Neither one of them were wearing a wedding band. Not that that meant anything, especially at this busy airport hotel that catered to business travelers. This was the one flaw in her plan: making sure that the man she chose was actually single and available. She would have to trust a complete stranger. She loathed cheaters.
One of the Joes must have felt her stare. He swiveled his bar stool towards her and gave her a smile. It was a nice, genuine smile, nothing sleazy or cagey about it. Her gut instinct told her that he didn’t have a wife and kids at home. Though she didn’t have any experience in bar hookups to back up that instinct, she felt almost certain that he was single.
He raised one ey
ebrow and nodded at the empty seat at her table. She was on the verge of giving him a smile of agreement when she heard the laughter. It drifted across the lounge towards her, its deep, husky timbre brushing over her skin like a sultry summer breeze, instantly luring her gaze back to the booth near the entrance.
His head was flung back as he continued to laugh, the arch of his throat an inviting stretch of warm tan skin above his crisp white shirt collar. All of the men were laughing now, rocking their heads back and forth, shoulders shaking.
She was entranced. His face, now radiant with laughter, was too gorgeous for words. She wanted to bask in his light. She wanted to slide her fingers in his black, close-cropped hair. She wanted to touch the crinkles on either side of his blue—oh, she hoped they were the blue they appeared to be from this distance—eyes. She wanted to press her mouth to the groove next to his mouth, discover the taste of his healthy, glowing skin, take his firm, lower lip between her teeth before sliding her tongue…
He was staring at her.
He was still smiling as the other men’s laughter gradually diminished and they began making motions to leave. But his smile had transmuted from that given in the spirit of male camaraderie to one that came with the awareness that she was blatantly watching him. His gaze sharpened, one eyebrow arched in question, as if he were trying to figure out whether or not he knew her.
She felt a hot clench of desire between her legs. She wiggled slightly in her chair, unable to quell her immediate reaction to his scrutiny. Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes slowly swept over her, down and up, an assessment that led to approval and then, to her utter shock, a reciprocal desire.
Only in her wildest imaginings had this kind of man fulfilled her oldest and deepest longing. She’d convinced herself that this kind of man could never be attracted to a woman like her—or, rather, the woman she used to be and still was sometimes inside her head. This kind of man belonged solely to that exclusive sphere where only the beautiful people mingled.
Joe at the bar would have been easy, not entirely comfortable, true, since she couldn’t possibly feel completely comfortable with any man in this situation, but…safer.
Dr. Moira’s voice filtered through her agitated thoughts: You are beautiful. You are a woman worthy of happiness and love. It’s time to let go of the things that are holding you down, holding you back from becoming the person you were meant to be. Let go…break free…
The men were leaving. He stood with them to shake hands and clasp arms. The others motioned towards the street exit, but he glanced at his watch, shook his head, and said something in a low voice as he pointed to his drink. He sat back down in the booth as they left.
He wasn’t looking at her now. He seemed pensive, almost sullen, as he studied the cocktail glass in his hand, slowly twirling it on the glossy black tabletop. One of the waitresses sashayed over with an eager smile to ask him if he’d like another drink. He shook his head without glancing up.
If she didn’t do this now, she knew she would never find the courage to try again. She dug into her purse for the blank notecard and envelope she’d put there earlier. It was her backup plan. She just knew that, if she were to walk over right now and sit down across from him, any words that managed to escape from her mouth would only be so much gobbledygook. All her efforts to appear sexy, sophisticated and worldly-wise would be exposed as a total sham.
She wrote quickly, having practiced the lines over a hundred times in her head: Please understand that I’ve never done this kind of thing before and never will again. I’m not a prostitute. I’m safe. I don’t do drugs. I’m not drunk. I find you very attractive and I want to spend the night with you. If you are married or otherwise attached, rip this up and throw away the key. If you aren’t married or otherwise, and you’re interested, please come to room 1208. If you don’t show up within a half hour, I will leave. Thank you for considering this offer. It’s not given lightly, but with the full appreciation that life is too short and every moment is meant to be savored.
She slipped the notecard and a plastic room key in the envelope and sealed it. Taking a fortifying breath, she stood, making sure her legs were steady before slowly walking towards the hotel lobby entrance. She felt him watching her as she approached his booth. She didn’t have to pretend to stumble slightly just as she came adjacent to his table. The envelope tumbled from her nerveless fingers. Bending over quickly, praying that not every single eye in the lounge was on her, she picked up the envelope and set it on the table next to his glass. “I believe this is yours?” Then, without waiting for a response, she continued through the lobby towards the elevators.
The room was as she’d left it, the covers turned down on the king size bed, a single lamp glowing softly in the corner. She’d been relieved to discover that the lamp had a dimmer switch. She wanted the lights turned down low, but not so low that she wouldn’t be able to see his body. There were condoms in the nightstand drawer and one tucked under the pillows.
She removed her earrings and necklace and placed them in the safe along with her purse. She closed the closet door, concealing her suitcase and coat, then paused a moment to study her reflection in the full length mirror. The dress was her most recent find, ordered from an online boutique that specialized in vintage clothing from the Fifties and early Sixties. It was a periwinkle blue and white floral chiffon with a ruched waist and full skirt. It had a bateau neckline in front, and a deep curved back neckline that came across the middle of her shoulder bones. Matching suede periwinkle pumps completed the look.
It was a dress that spoke romance. It was a dress, she hoped, that begged an easy touch and slow hands, not one to be torn aside in a rush of passion. Oh, she wanted that mad rush eventually, but not for her first time.
Her hands shook slightly as she skimmed them down her waist and over the skirt. She loved wearing dresses. For too many years, she hadn’t been able to wear them, not without feeling like she was on a poster advertising a carnival sideshow. She’d had to content herself with cutting out pictures of dresses she liked, taping them to her bedroom mirror or tucking them in a scrapbook. Someday, she’d promised herself. Someday.
Her hair, a medium auburn, was now long enough to put up in a chignon. Her first grade teacher had complimented her once on her “pretty brown eyes,” telling her that—in a certain light—they were the exact color of her “lovely red hair.” She’d never forgotten those words, a rare gift of praise that she’d held deep in her heart like a buried treasure to be opened on those too many occasions when her world had become almost too dark to bear.
Now those years almost felt like they’d belonged to someone else. She and Dr. Moira had worked through them, one by one, as they uncovered old wounds and gave them fresh air and the healing balm of forgiveness. So much had changed in the last two years. She could now truthfully say that she liked herself, that she liked her own body, a body that had been kept hidden for too long in a prison of low self-esteem and hurt. There had just been this one final stepping stone, this last barrier to cross. She’d chosen to deal with it in this way; Dr. Moira knew nothing about what would happen in this room tonight.
Or would it? How much time had gone by? Would he take her up on her offer?
She looked at the bedside clock. It’d been twenty minutes since she’d walked out of the lounge.
Twenty minutes.
He wasn’t coming.
Her eyes itched with the threat of tears. No. She wasn’t going to cry. She rushed into the bathroom and hit the cold water handle, running her wrists under the icy stream. She pressed one wrist against the back of her neck as she took deep, calming breaths. “I am beautiful,” she whispered.
She would not allow herself to think that he hadn’t come because of her appearance. He had a girlfriend, he was married…
A knock sounded on the door.
She froze.
A second knock came, no louder than the first.
She shut off the water, dried her hands,
and then turned off the bathroom light before stepping into the small hallway. She looked through the peephole.
It was him.
He had his profile presented to her as he looked down the corridor towards the elevator bank. She heard the ping of an arriving car. He gave a slight shake of his head before taking a step towards it.
She opened the door.
He turned to face her directly, his eyes—a clear, vivid blue—made a burning sweep from head to toe and up again. “Hello,” he said, his voice low, soft as kidskin leather.
“Hello,” she breathed.
Up close, he was taller than he’d appeared in the lounge. She was five feet seven inches in heels. The top of her head was even with the bridge of his nose. This close, she caught the fragrance of his cologne, a hint of citrus with cedar undertones.
God, he was so handsome.
She swayed slightly and grabbed the doorjamb to keep upright. His eyes followed the motion before returning their piercing directness to her face. He frowned in question, dipping his head towards her. “Is your offer still on the table?”
“Y-yes.”
His eyes narrowed at the telltale quiver in her voice. Several seconds that seemed like eons went by during which he seemed to be locked in some inner debate. He inhaled sharply, closed his eyes for a moment before he lightly touched her waist and gave her a gentle nudge backwards. The brief flicker of indecision—or had it been nervousness?—in his expression had vanished. “Let’s continue this in private.”