Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  He stood utterly transfixed.

  She looked beautiful.

  She’d pinned back her long hair in some sort of twist, highlighting the angle of her chin and neck. And her smile? It radiated a joy so contagious it teased his lips to respond.

  The scene removed all doubt. Nora was as much of a victim of his uncle’s scheme as him, if not more so. And he’d accused her? Laughed at her? Assigned her a status among the shoddiest of her uncle’s attempts?

  Somehow, he had to make this right.

  Nora rolled her gaze heavenward on her walk to the inn, begging the Lord for a miracle. After four different attempts to reach her father using the hotel’s unpredictable Wi-Fi, she finally talked to him and put the crazy pieces of her previous conversation with Sir Broods-A-Lot Keller together: The whole room mix-up was a misunderstanding of massive proportions. An accidental oversight, but a problem nonetheless, because unless Mr. Keller procured a different answer from the clerk than Nora, it looked as though the two of them would be sharing a room for a few days.

  Help, please, Lord?

  She wasn’t necessarily concerned that Ethan might try to seduce her or anything, though her mind dipped there for a tiny Catherine-Moreland-type second. The real problem was having to spend any time with him at all. The last thing she wanted was his storm-cloud personality looming around her in the privacy of her room. And his disrespect for Jane Austen? She shook her head. Nigh unforgivable. And to assume she’d planned to share rooms with him?

  She tossed another glance toward Heaven, sure God found the situation as appalling as she did.

  The inn rose ahead of her, a beautiful fixture of history with its moss-covered stone walls and sprawling space. Three glorious stories soared into the gray sky from its height on the hill, and the one room she wished to see most—a turret of sorts—stood to the far left, encased in windows.

  A room for reading. Or watching the sunset. Or…dancing away from everyone else.

  Her smile bit into her cheeks at the memory of the country dance lessons. Oh heavens, how ridiculous and fun. But whoever thought getting around on a dancefloor in an ankle-length dress was a good idea probably didn’t have two left feet? She chuckled and walked through the entryway of the inn, ready to change clothes and then explore her home of the next week.

  She opened the door to her room and froze. Ethan sat on the bed, dress-shirt deliciously disheveled, with a book in his hand. But not just any book. Her copy of Persuasion.

  Two emotions crashed together inside of her. One, the sight of any man sitting in a four-poster bed, wearing an open collared shirt and reading a Jane Austen novel, deserved a solid three seconds or more of appreciation.

  Also…Mr. Grumpy-and-Gorgeous had his unpredictable hands on her precious book.

  She decided to appreciate the view first.

  Complain later.

  The humored tilt of his lips, followed by a solid scan of her entire ensemble, turned her thoughts into actions. It was a good thing she’d left the bonnet in the closet.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. “Don’t say anything. Not one word.”

  His smile stilled but lingered in his gaze, dousing her intended glare.

  “Please don’t go in search of another pillow, okay?” His palms came up in surrender. “I may not be quick to pick up on the clues, but I am smart enough to figure out that I’ve been terribly wrong.” He placed her book on the bed and stood, the sweet hum of some woodsy-spice scent wafting forward ahead of his approach. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions and accused you of being part of my uncle’s shenanigans.”

  He said shenanigans? Her heart stuttered in response. What guy reads Austen and uses words like shenanigans?

  “Well.” She blinked, trying to match the grumpy guy from earlier with this new fellow. Maybe he had a swoony twin. “Thank you.”

  He sighed, his look almost pleading. “I seem to have forgotten that I’m in the hotel business and hospitality is my job.”

  A cringe pulled at her shoulders. “You’re in a hospitality profession?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head, moving to sit on the bench at the end of the bed. “A pretty lucrative one, actually, but we have a different guy who usually does the PR work.”

  She released the muscles holding her frown and relaxed her stance by the door. As much as a woman could ‘relax’ in a Regency dress. “Sounds like a good choice.”

  “Look, we got off to bad start.”

  “A bad start?” Her brow hitched high. “A bad start is when you trip over someone in the airport or miss your taxi. This was an epic fail.”

  “And I didn’t help matters at all.” He groaned and leaned back against the footboard of the bed. “My uncle has an unhealthy hobby of setting me up with available women.”

  Nora stepped to the nearest wingback, the picture becoming clearer and clearer. “And you thought I was one of them.”

  “Yes. And again, I’m sorry. He’s done this multiple times in the past and it’s infuriating.”

  “And belittling,” Nora added, reliving her mother’s most recent two offerings. “Like you don’t have the wits in your brain or the strength of character to find a good date.”

  “Exactly,” Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, suddenly…approachable. “And his choices were definitely not my choices.”

  “Right? My mom does the same thing. Ever since my husband died she’s been trying to set me up with guys whose conversational topics consist only of sports or video games. Then, when I don’t continue the relationship, she’ll say ‘You’re too picky.’.” Nora groaned. “Too picky to want intelligent conversation with somebody whose sense of humor involves more than laughing about bodily functions?”

  Ethan’s full smile bloomed in the most delightful way—gentle, easy, inciting a welcome quiver in the pit of her stomach. “It sounds like we both need a vacation from certain unwanted, amateur matchmakers in our lives.” His gaze gentled. “And I’m sorry, Nora. I may have been more clear-headed this morning had I not felt the heaviness of this new business venture. It’s a bit out of my depth, I think.”

  “Well, plane rides seem to be a bit out of mine.” She liked his smile. It made her want to hear his laugh. He probably didn’t laugh too often, if second impressions proved true, but he probably needed to. She tugged at the itchy sleeve of her ballgown. “What’s your business venture about?”

  He opened his mouth to answer and then took in her movements. “I bet you want to switch into something more…modern, don’t you?”

  “That was the plan.”

  He stood. “Well, what were your plans after that? More Austen festivities?”

  “Not tonight. I’m a twenty-first century girl tonight.” She stood and leaned in, lowering her voice to add excitement. “Tonight, I want to explore this amazing, centuries-old inn. I can tell they’re in the process of renovations, so my history-loving heart wants to investigate. What about you?”

  His smile creased into his cheeks, showing off his perfectly straight teeth. “Actually, exploring the inn sounds perfect.”

  “Whoa, you’re Keller from Keller Luxury Suites?” Nora’s eyes widened, the marbleized shades of golden brown bringing out the faint hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose. They’d spent the last two hours taking the behind-the-scenes tour of his inn and she’d succeeded in adding enough sparkle to the conversation to dissipate any of the tension from their earlier meeting. “I feel like I’m walking with royalty right now.”

  He suddenly wished he’d changed into something more comfortable like her. He’d left his suit jacket back in the room, but he envied the look of those jeans. Or maybe he just liked how she looked in them.

  He cleared his throat and focused ahead. “You’re thinking I have the disposition for it, no doubt.”

  Her laugh echoed in the great, empty room they’d discovered at the back of the manor house. Enormous, with elaborate crown molding fifteen or twenty feet above them
. “Well, you seem to improve upon better acquaintance, Mr. Keller.” She spun in a circle, arms out like a pinwheel. “And to think, you inherited all of this? How magnificent.”

  “You think so?”

  She stopped her spin and eyed him. “I know so. One, because I’m fortunate enough to be able to sneak past all the ‘employee only’ signs with you, once the clerk finally figured out who you were.” Her grin brightened her whole face. “And two, this is a treasure trove. What did the clerk say? A four-hundred-year-old manor house? Imagine what you can make of this?”

  “Which is exactly what I’m trying to do.” He shook his head, following her across the room as she continued to ooh and ahh over various features, chattering on about the craftsmanship in the woodwork, the Victorian light fixtures and even…the elegance of the peeling wallpaper.

  Peeling wallpaper? Yep, this girl was a unique breed.

  “I’m used to upscale luxury hotels with a streamlined production of four to six hundred rooms, and elegant and efficient hospitality. I was raised in it; and now, as a partner, I have this working system in place. A nice, predictable, reproducible plan.” He sighed and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, gazing over the room. “This doesn’t fit the plan.”

  “But what an opportunity.” Nora slowed her pace until they walked side by side. “You get to make something new.”

  He slid her a cautious smile. “I’m not too bad at my job, Nora.”

  The corners of her eyes crinkled when he said her name. She liked hearing him say it. His chest expanded with warmth. Possibly as much as he liked saying it. “My previous plans have been pretty good ones when I’ve used what I know.”

  “Well, you still can use what you know, right?” She gave his shoulder a playful bump with hers, breaking the formality from their first meeting. “Just spruce up your plans a bit. Mold them to the culture of this town. Blend them with the beauty of England.” She gestured to the room. “The structure, class, and bling are already in place for you.”

  He gestured toward the ornate chandelier in the middle of the room. “Bling isn’t necessary for a quality stay.”

  “No, it may not be necessary.” She shrugged, her grin crinkling up her nose. “But sometimes—especially when we label it luxury—we’re looking for more than what’s necessary.” She tilted her head back, taking in another view of the room. “I, for one, love a world with embellishments and color. Color gives us rainbows and breathtaking sunrises and Kool-Aid moustaches.”

  And suddenly, she’d trapped him right in the middle of her rosy world, her sparkling eyes teasing his imagination to life in a way it hadn’t moved for years.

  He held her gaze for a moment and then looked away, tempering his grin. “I’ll make sure to mention the possibility of Kool-Aid moustaches in my meeting with the hotel’s former managing assistant tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I can just see a bunch of staunch English businessmen with Kool-Aid moustaches.” Her laugh billowed again and then spread into a yawn. “Whew, long day. And it ended much better than it began.”

  Her laugh bubbled with an infectious magnetism. Free. Light.

  “Traveling can be exhausting.”

  “No lie.” She looked down at her watch. “You know, I probably need to turn in. The Promenade is tomorrow.”

  “Is that so?”

  “In all of its splendor.” Her brow rose with challenge. “You really ought to watch it so you can get a good feel for some of Bath’s culture.” Her shoulder teased a shrug, her eyes dancing. “Call it market research, if you want.”

  Research? Except his curiosity began to turn in a very different direction than he’d planned. “I’ll put that on my calendar right away.”

  Her smile faded and she averted her gaze. “So, um, I’m going to call it a night.”

  And reality doused the warmth in the conversation much too soon. He hadn’t enjoyed such friendly conversation with a woman—apart from his sister—in a long time. Easy. Fun, even. Insightful. But the shared room loomed like a wall between them, and he realized he didn’t like the wall at all.

  “You know, I think I’ll stay up and work on my computer for a while in the lobby. I have a few documents to go over regarding the inn, and since I have a meeting in the morning, I’d like to be prepared.” Her shoulders relaxed a little, so he added. “I probably won’t be up for a long time.”

  “Okay. Well…goodnight.” She walked toward the door, her little red flats sliding soundlessly across the golden-hued floor. “And Ethan.” She turned just before walking out the door. “Sometimes the most amazing creations come from thinking outside the box.”

  Chapter 4

  Nora had slept much better than she’d expected with the worry of Ethan entering at some point in the night, but as she looked around the room the next morning, nothing hinted to his presence at all.

  Hmm. Had he slept in one of the winged-backs? She grimaced. That would have been uncomfortable.

  With careful work, she slipped into her walking dress, and then grinned like a complete dork at her reflection as she fastened her massive bonnet into place. Hats proved super expensive, but this one…well…it measured up to the price, and then some. In fact, it might even pick up radio reception. White, with teal ribbons to match her gown, its brim jutted out a good six inches from her forehead, protecting her face better than any parasol.

  And…it was a little heavy, something she adjusted to as she walked to the door in full regalia. With a glance at her map to locate the 18th century ‘public’ breakfast for festival goers, she gathered her reticule and pulled open the bedroom door, only to nearly knock Ethan over on his way in.

  In fact, her bonnet almost scalped him.

  “Whoa!” He managed to dodge it without losing his nose in the process.

  “Oh goodness, Ethan, did I hit you?”

  He fastened tired eyes on her, paused, and then the most fascinating thing happened. He started laughing. Low and deep, it reverberated in his chest and then burst into a broad, grin-inducing sound. “I can safely say that I’ve never been attacked by a hat before.”

  Nora cringed and placed a palm against his shoulder. “Well, just trying to add a little…um…color to your life?”

  His laugh broke free again, bringing out her own smile. He moved to the bench and sat, dropping his computer bag at his side. Then she noticed. Intermingled with the attractive play of humor across his face, hung a weariness. Red rims deepened the blue of his eyes, and dark shadows smudged beneath, highlighting his need for rest. His mussed hair and wrinkled clothes set a very different precedent than the high-class businessman from the day before.

  Maybe this business venture was more than he could handle. “What happened to you? You look awful!”

  “Gee, thanks.” He ran a hand through his hair upsetting the mess even more—and somehow Mr.-Grumpy-and-Arrogant disappeared altogether.

  She sat in the chair nearest him. “Oh Ethan. Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “I dozed off a few times in the chair downstairs by the fireplace, but I got a lot of work done.”

  She pinched her eyes closed, reality dawning. He’d stayed downstairs to decrease her discomfort in sharing the room. A swell of compassion drew her closer and she placed a hand to his knee. “Come on, Ethan. We’re two reasonable adults who respect each other, right?”

  His gaze came up to hers, the faintest hint of tenderness on his face. His disheveled appearance, close and gentle, derailed her thoughts. She paused—caught in a web of cobalt and curiosity and something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “Right.” His whisper brushed over her senses, igniting her skin.

  She pulled her hand from his knee and sat back, clearing her throat. “Well, I think we can certainly work out these sleeping arrangements without you sitting up all night, especially with your meeting today.” She waved toward the room, working out the awkwardness with a smile. “There’s plenty of space here and I imagine the inn has a rollaway bed o
r something.” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “I promise to keep my gold-digging fingers off of you.”

  His expression took an unreadable turn. Disappointment? Curiosity? She wasn’t sure, but whatever, it encouraged her to remain near him a little longer—to somehow blunder through another laugh.

  He nodded, lowering his head again in an apology. “And I’ll keep my assumptions safely housed in the truth.”

  “Excellent.” She hesitated, then offered her hand to seal the deal.

  His gaze captured hers, and as his warm hand wrapped around hers, he somehow stole her breath too. “Excellent,” he whispered.

  And suddenly, the unwelcome matchmaking plan looked a little different…maybe even brilliant.

  Ethan recognized Timothy Steele’s managing assistant as soon as she walked through the door. No, he’d never met her, but the professional black dress, long blond hair pulled tight into a ponytail, serious expression, and laptop bag at her side sent all the predictable signs. He hadn’t predicted drop-dead-gorgeous, but he added that one to the list.

  Funny his uncle didn’t plan a room mix-up with her. She looked like a better match for his uncle’s schemes.

  Ethan rose from the chair in the lounge and adjusted his tie before approaching. After a few hours’ sleep and another tour of the inn’s facilities, the portrait of this purchase began to take shape in his mind. As Donovan said—real potential. And he’d started a list of how to take the first Elliott Elizabeth Inn to the next level.

  Mr. Steel’s assistant glanced in his direction and turned, meeting him halfway, her periwinkle gaze taking quick inventory of him. He stood a little straighter.

  “Mr. Keller.” Her hand shot out. “My name is Lydia Steele. I’m Timothy Steele’s managing assistant for the Steele Manor House.” She paused and frowned. “Pardon me, for the Elliott Elizabeth Inn.” Her smiled tightened. “I am still quite new to the management transition and name change.”

  From the tense tilt of her chin, Ethan got the sense Lydia Steele was not happy about those changes. He drew in a breath and offered a courteous nod. This type of woman he knew how to predict. Nora Simeon? His grin attempted to unwind at the very thought of her. She added more…um…color.