Promise Me Forever
Love in Lemongrove Series | Sweet Billionaire Romance
Scarlett Adams
Promise Me Forever
Everyone walks through life with a different perspective, a different idea of what life has to offer.
My viewpoint on life?
Sweet, sticky, and sometimes burnt to a crisp.
Having my own bakery has been a rush, creating culinary perfections that tantalize the entire town. What isn’t so tantalizing though, is my love life. What’s a girl to do when she’s cast aside for a young blonde with bouncing…curls? She eats her weight in cookie dough while reading her favorite romance novel, that’s what she does.
Normally a roll and half in, we pick ourselves up, dust off the crumbs and jump back headfirst into life, but that isn’t looking so simple for me. With my mind lost on my ex, my missing cat, and my sudden proclivity for burning everything I bake, things are not looking too good.
But just as I begin to think that hanging my oven mitts up for good is in my near future, Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome, and complicated walks through the doors. OH, did I mention he also happens to be my favorite author? Seems simple right? Fall in love, just do it. But what if that love comes with a cost? What if it doesn’t conform to that dream of an endless all-consuming fairytale? What I think should be a simple stir-and-bake love, suddenly looks more like the kind that could instantly crumble my cookie.
When Ms. Cookie Queen and Mr. Handsome Author collide, sparks fly, but not necessarily the kind you think of when you think romance. Can her inability to trust and his inability to open up send them straight back to opposite corners? Or will a little small town magic, mixed with a few pinches of humor and luck, bring them the perfect recipe for love? PROMISE ME FOREVER is the first book in the LOVE IN LEMONGROVE SERIES by Scarlett Adams; A sweet contemporary billionaire romance.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Thank you, friends!
About the Author
Chapter 1
Rory
The heat washed over me as I cracked the oven door, peeking inside. I narrowed my eyes at the small rainbow-colored piles of dough, inspecting the edges just to make sure they weren’t about to turn into small puffs of charred coal again. Of course, the again I kept to myself, not wanting anyone, especially my bestie, Tish, to know I had gone from Betty Crocker to Betty Boop, at least when it came to my culinary masterpieces.
Sweet Cheeks Patisserie was my passion, and had been since I was old enough to slip the oven mitt on up to my elbow and help my mom take the cookies from the oven. There was something about baking that just quieted my soul and allowed me to pour my creative juices into an art that everyone could enjoy. My mother had loved baking, and it had been the one thing we did together, on a weekly basis, that neither of us ever missed until she passed away a year before. That was the beginning of my downhill spiral into confectionary baker’s block, the real kicker coming just a few months later.
“The Sun,” Tish said from the café as I gently changed the cookies from the baker’s tray to the front case. “And it’s upright.”
“Hilda does that mean you’ll finally get a chance with Henry?” the white-haired woman said, nudging her friend.
Hilda rolled her eyes, shaking back her silver curls. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away from me. He’ll break a hip trying too hard.”
There was a cackle of laughter from the six older ladies that gathered in the store every Thursday morning for coffee and pastries. Tish fanned herself with her deck of Tarot cards. “Things are heating up at the Senior Center.”
One of the other ladies winked at Tish. “Darn right. It’s only family day once a month, girl.”
They all whistled and awed and I let out a small snort, trying to hold back my laughter. As soon as I did, they all looked over at me, instantaneous stares of judgment darting straight at me. “Now, miss Rory over there is another story. When is she going to dust the flour off her shirt and bat her eyelashes at some strong handsome man?”
It was exactly what I was trying to avoid. “When I don’t have a million things to do here at the bakery.”
Hilda scoffed, glancing around at the other women who nodded their head at her dismay. “Please, you made time for that one guy. What was his name?”
I glanced up at them as I set the tray on the back counter. “You know good and well his name was Travis, you used to babysit him.”
She twisted her lips looking down her nose. “Yeah, well, I never liked him anyway. The way he did you, sleeping with that tramp down the street. Please. We should prank call her store ladies. What kind of a job is a personal shopper anyway?”
I let out a deep breath as I piled up the dishes and prepared for the morning rush. “As much as I appreciate your solidarity…” One of the women put her fist over her heart, resting it gently on her flowered silk blouse. I pressed my lips together, shifting my eyes toward the ceiling, trying desperately not to laugh. “As much as I appreciate you all. He made his choice, and now I have to move on. Just let her realize her mistake for herself. Actions and consequences.”
Tish chuckled happily, her job complete for the day. I felt as if she only came in to make sure I got my daily harassing. She tapped her Tarot cards on the counter in front of me as I counted out the register. My eyes shifted up at her for a moment. “What? I know you’re thinking something.”
As I went through the quarters she shuffled through her cards and spread them out in a layer on the counter. She pulled up a card and held it out to me. “I read your Tarot last night and I pulled this card.”
I glanced at it quickly. “What does that mean?”
She set the Empress down, looking at her fingernails nonchalantly. “Fertility, motherhood, nature.”
My head snapped up. “I would need to be in a relationship for fertility to even play a part in my world.” I swished through the deck and pulled out the Fool. “There. That’s me. The Fool. A fool for believing that Travis ever really loved me. I mean, I guess I can’t blame him for going for the petite, tiny blonde after I gained so much weight working in this place.”
Tish snatched the card from me. “First of all, you own THIS place, so be proud. Secondly, you’re gorgeous, curvy, sexy, so shut it. And third, the Fool means new beginnings. So, there, if you wanna be the Fool I fully welcome it.”
Shaking my head, I turned and walked the pans to the kitchen, taking off my apron as I emerged back into the main area. Tish cleaned up her cards and walked around the corner, leaning next to me at the back counter. “You know I love you.”
“Here it goes,” I groaned.
“No,” she said defensively. “I just want you to be happy.”
Before I could answer, the bell on the door rang out and we looked up. For a moment the entire place was silence, watching as Mister too hot for small town America came walking in. He was tall and muscular with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest. His tight blue t-shirt clung to his pecks as his cardigan held onto his arms with stretched fabric.
Tish leaned toward me with her mouth gaped open. “I’ve never seen a man make a cardigan look as sexy as a tux.”
He walked up to the count
er as we stood there gazing like he was some sort of fantastical creature brought out in a cage for viewing. Tish pressed her hand to my back and gave me a push. I stumbled forward, looking back, hissing at her as she grinned, waving her hands at the counter. I turned back, straightening down my shirt nervously, and chuckling with a grin as I approached the register.
“Welcome to Sweet Pecks…I mean Sweet Cheeks…how can I help you?” I could feel my face turn from pale to fire in three seconds.
“We’re open to renaming the place,” Tish said with a smile.
My fists gripped. “Please forgive the riff raff, we are doing an outreach for at risk women in the community.”
Tish slapped at me but the guy wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at the menu above my head, but I could tell he wasn’t actually reading anything. Whatever was on his mind, was far more important than me making a fool of myself. I quietly cleared my throat.
He glanced down at me and shook his head. “Uh, yeah, sorry. My mind…deadlines, character arcs…” He stared at me for a moment, finally realizing I had no idea what he was talking about. He waved his hands. “Never mind.”
Blinking his eyes at the board, I lifted my eyebrows. “Do you need some help picking something out?”
He rubbed his chin, his face square, his dimples deep, and his face covered in the perfect amount of stubble. “I’ll have the…mango…café…uh, alphonso.”
I didn’t move. My eyes blinked several times at him and I glanced over my shoulder at the menu, making sure no one was messing with me. “You want a mango coffee…with ice-cream?”
He was staring at the inside of his wallet. “Huh?”
I licked my lips and gave a sarcastic grin. The guy was kind of a jerk, too caught up in his own thoughts to even take five seconds to order a coffee without randomly picking three words off the board as fast as possible in no particular order. “The mango alphonso is a milk shake. And the café is…coffee.”
He took in a deep breath and shook his head. “Just a coffee.”
I twitched slightly at his snappiness. I could see on his face that he instantly felt guilty but he was obviously too proud to apologize. I tapped hard on the keys of the register. “Five dollars and forty-three cents.”
He swiped his card and glanced around. “Is there Wi-Fi?”
I handed him the receipt and pointed upward to the enormous sign I had designated for nothing but the words “Free Wi-Fi.” He nodded and stood there uncomfortably. I glanced down at Tish who was doing a piss poor job of pretending she wasn’t ease dropping. “I’ll bring it out to you. Have a seat wherever you’d like.”
As he picked his bag off the floor, I caught a glimpse at the name on the receipt, instantly recognizing his name. Christian Harper, the acclaimed novelist of the steamy and romance filled Harbor Mountain book series, unceremoniously turned into a terrible television rendition. My eyes shifted up to his as he turned slightly from side to side. “Things are so…close together.”
“Yeah,” I sighed sarcastically. “We are REAL friendly out here. And by the way…” I pointed at the book in the top of his bag. “Good premise, terrible television show.”
He blinked, nodding his head, but I couldn’t tell if it was at what I had said, or in agreement. I watched as he wandered off, taking a seat in the back corner. Tish walked up next to me, pursing her lips. “Well, that could have gone worse.”
My eyes simmered in their sockets. “That was as painful as a shortage of laughing gas at the dentist.”
Tish scoffed but nodded sadly. “You can change it. Make that coffee and sweetly take it over to him. Act like you never talked to him before. He seems a bit distracted.”
Turning toward the espresso machine I grumbled under my breath. “I would be too if I had my name on that show.”
Tish smacked my hand. “Look, he’s hot, he’s from out of town, and you desperately need someone to keep you warm since the temperature is dropping and your cold heart will soon crumble to bits if you don’t try.”
I sighed as I started making his coffee. “My cat used to keep me warm.”
Tish ran her hands over her face. “We’ll get you a new cat.”
I gasped, snapping my head toward her. “Mr. Elsworth cannot be replaced.”
She shook her hands in front of her face. “Okay, forget about the cat right now. Focus. Find your inner sexy goddess.”
I closed my eyes and breathed slowly. Turning to her, I swished my bangs from my face having them land right back where they were, flour covering the tip of my nose. “How’s that.”
She half grimaced, half smiled. “Sure, that…we’ll work on it.”
I rolled my eyes and focused on what I was doing. “This is stupid. Why would I end my long torrid love affair…”?
“Not long or torrid,” Tish muttered.
I continued, ignoring her statement. “…Just to chase after some guy who should be locked up for the way he looks in a cardigan, when he is probably worse than Travis? He’s rich and famous and most likely has a list of harems in his back pocket.”
“You do know his show is fiction, right?” Tish asked, staring at me with slight concern. “There are no harems, and I didn’t say go over there and start planning the engagement party. For God’s Sake, Woman! Pull yourself together and just start with a half-smile and a pleasant tone.”
“That’s a lot to ask for,” I groaned. “But fine. Half-smile and pleasant tone.”
She tugged down on my shirt and dusted off my shoulders. “Good. Now go get em’.”
As I walked away, she leaned back against the counter puffing out her cheeks. “Man, I have got my work cut out for me.”
“I heard that,” I replied, walking around the counter.
She had no idea just how far I had gone down the break-up rabbit hole.
Chapter 2
Christian
Plopping down at the table, I pulled my laptop out, book five in my series falling to the ground. I leaned over and picked it up, thumbing through the pages. My eyes shifted toward the ground as the gentle scent of crisp book pages filled my nose. The show had gone for six seasons, each season covering one of my novels, except the last. With my inability to focus in on one good way to end the series, the producers of the show were left to make up the end, leaving me to create a masterpiece out of the last book.
My readers didn’t want to read what they had already watched, they wanted that bonus of getting a new ending. Probably a big bonus considering how they felt about the final season of the show. It was a firing squad type of situation when the last season had first premiered, and I was glad that my creative process took me so far beyond the simplicity of the show, it left it in the dark. But that creativity was feeling backed up, out of reach, stiff as a board. I would get a hint of motivation in my mind and then two hours later I would find myself in the same spot, my eyes dry from staring off into space. But I was creating the story in my mind, right?
Not a chance. Not unless the last book included my grocery list, the annoying whistle behind my editor’s voice when he talked, and the squirrel that had taken roost in the tree in my backyard. I didn’t even realize there were squirrels in LA. The clang of a coffee cup on the table next to me, brought me from the devastating black hole of my thoughts. I slowly looked up at the woman from behind the counter. She set a carafe of cream next to my cup.
Holding a plate with a cookie in her other hand, she glanced down at my white knuckles bending the paperback nearly in half. “If you need more, I’ll be around to refill, or you can wave over at the counter for me.”
Her voice was a bit more pleasant and my eyes had focused in on her light pink lips and fair skin. She was much more beautiful than I had initially noticed. Of course, my mind was so wrapped around the book that I had initially ordered a mango coffee, like a complete moron. As she stared at me, I knew I needed to say something, but my words didn’t seem to want to catch up with my mouth. She shifted her eyes away and turned to leave.
Reaching out, I grabbed her wrist. “Wait. I have a question for you.”
She glanced down at my hand and put the cookie down on the table. “Alright, but if you’re still stuck on the mango coffee, I don’t have any. It’s not a thing.”
I shook my head as she smirked at her own joke. My face stayed straight, not because I was rude or uninterested, but because in that moment my brain was enveloped by Harbor Mountain. She noticed the look on my face, and her smile turned to a defensive frown. I was not faring well my first morning in Valley Gorge, Connecticut. “You said you didn’t like the show. What exactly would you have done differently?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and I instantly could tell my tone of voice was condescending. I wasn’t trying to be, I was genuinely curious as to how she felt, but I was inundated by the inability to create a civil conversation to save my life. Apparently between the backlash of the show and the incessant nagging from my publisher to produce a manuscript, I had become a shell of a man with the attitude of a fifteen-year-old girl.
She huffed. “If you’re really asking, not that I’m an expert or anything. Living in small town America without seventeen BMW’s parked in the front yard or a diamond as big as my head, I know, makes me a bit unqualified. The truth?”
I nodded, thinking for a moment about the maintenance behind that many BMW’s, before forcing my thoughts back to the book. “Yes. The truth.”
She squared her shoulders. “Your main character was the only redeeming person in the entire series. She was the only one to do things the right way, yet you tortured her throughout season six with the worst case of emotional turmoil any human has ever experienced. Her parent dies, her boyfriend shacks up with the town whore, leaving her utterly devastated, and then what do you do? She goes out on her father’s boat in a magical and emotional connecting and healing moment only for you to create some ridiculous, out of nowhere storm that knocks her off the boat, hitting her tiny blonde head on the way down.”
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