Still the One

by Susan May Warren

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “And I think we should have it here—the first official event at the newly renovated Black Spruce.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  She felt like she glowed even beyond the twinkle lights that filled the space. They’d worked hard since she’d finalized the purchase of the Black Spruce. Cleaning. Planning. Cole had already set to work on repairs. She had no doubt it would, in fact, become the event center she’d dreamed of. A place for happily-ever-afters.

  Starting with theirs.

  Connect With Sunrise

  Thank you so much for reading Still the One. We hope you enjoyed the story. If you did, would you be willing to do us a favor and leave a review? It doesn’t have to be long—just a few words to help other readers know what they’re getting. (But no spoilers! We don’t want to wreck the fun!) Thank you again for reading!

  We’d love to hear from you—not only about this story, but about any characters or stories you’d like to read in the future. Contact us at www.sunrisepublishing.com/contact.

  We also have a monthly update that contains sneak peeks, reviews, upcoming releases, and fun stuff for our reader friends.

  As a treat for signing up, we’ll send you a free novella written by Susan May Warren that kicks off the new Deep Haven Collection! Sign up at www.sunrisepublishing.com/free-prequel.

  Other Deep Haven Novels

  Deep Haven Collection

  Only You

  Still the One

  Can’t Buy Me Love

  Crazy for You

  Then Came You

  Hanging by a Moment

  Right Here Waiting

  * * *

  Deep Haven Series

  Happily Ever After

  Tying the Knot

  The Perfect Match

  My Foolish Heart

  Hook, Line, & Sinker

  You Don’t Know Me

  The Shadow of Your Smile

  * * *

  Christiansen Family Series

  Evergreen

  Take a Chance on Me

  It Had to Be You

  When I Fall in Love

  Always on My Mind

  The Wonder of You

  You’re the One That I Want

  * * *

  For other books by Susan May Warren, visit her website at http://www.susanmaywarren.com.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek of the next Deep Haven novel, Can’t Buy Me Love …

  Sneak Peek

  Can’t Buy Me Love

  These shoes were going to be the death of her.

  Ella wiggled her toes and waited for the elevator to arrive, refusing another glance at her watch. Yes, she was late, but what did they say about being fashionably late?

  Just down the hall and through the lobby, music spilled out of the bar area of the Century Hotel in downtown Minneapolis. Elegance dripped from the high-hanging chandelier of the foyer, the deep blue and gold carpets, and the massive floral arrangement on a center table. Through the glass ceiling that arched over the lobby expanse, the night sky had turned to diamonds, while just below it the breath of the underworld pumped out of the massive vents in the sidewalks like a dragon aslumber.

  It was a fairytale night.

  A fairytale she didn’t belong in. Ella should be at home in Deep Haven in her flannel pajamas instead of freezing to death in this skimpy ice-blue satin dress. Colleen Decker, her former college roommate, had loaned her the dress, an ankle-length ball gown that hugged Ella’s slim curves before flaring out at the knees. The neckline dropped to just below her collarbone in the front and just below her shoulder blades in the back. The shoes—Manolo Blahnik stilettos that Colleen had found on eBay—would probably cut off all feeling from her toes by the end of the night. She should have worn her pink Converse.

  The price she paid for her dreams.

  She inventoried the contents of her tiny handbag for the third time in as many minutes. Lip gloss? Check. The 3x5 notecards for her pitch? Check. Thumb drive with a backup copy of her pitch? Check. Shareholders’ Gala invitation with “Ella Nicole Bradley” embossed in gold across the front? Check.

  She squeezed the clasp back together. If only Colleen would have let her bring her own normal-sized purse along. That bag had been relegated to the same pile as the flannel and jeans. But she probably wouldn’t need the Kleenex, sewing kit, hand sanitizer, Band-Aids, granola bar, and other supplies she usually kept fully stocked in her oversized purse.

  Probably.

  Ella adjusted the white faux mink stole Colleen had thrown across her shoulders at the last moment.

  “You’re going to need something warm,” her friend had said earlier that evening. “It may be nice outside now, but it’s still winter in Minnesota. The weatherman said we may get a late-March snow tonight.”

  “No way.” Her conversation with Colleen drifted back to her as she watched the elevator lights crawl down from the twenty-first floor. “That dress is way out of my comfort zone.” She turned to look at the back of the borrowed dress in the mirror.

  “Nonsense. This color is perfect with your blonde hair, and it will bring out the blue in your eyes. You want to knock ’em dead tonight. After all, you might meet the devastatingly handsome and irredeemably rakish Adrian Vassos.” Colleen had given her a wink. “Did you hear he drove his car into the nearly frozen Lake Kellogg a month ago? Silly man. He should know that the ice wasn’t going to be thick enough this late in the winter. He’s lived there all his life. Good thing that boy is hot. He can get away with things like that.” Colleen fanned her face with her hand, pretending to swoon at the thought of Adrian Vassos.

  Adrian Vassos was the last person on Ella’s mind tonight. He could drive into as many lakes as he wanted, woo any girl he came across, as long as he stayed out of her way. He might be the son of the owner, but her goal was a face-to-face with the man at the top of the food chain.

  Her last chance to salvage the life she hoped to create.

  The lights dinged at floor fourteen.

  “A good pair of shoes make all the difference.” Colleen had reached to the back of the closet and pulled out a shoebox. Nestled under the lid inside a few sheets of tissue paper lay a pair of pale blue slingback heels with tiny crystals sewn in a star pattern across the toes.

  If only they fit. Her feet screamed, even after only ten minutes. Why hadn’t she stuck to her Converse sneakers?

  “Over my dead body! Girl! You don’t wear Chucks to the party of the year.”

  So, yes, she’d tried on the shoes, a little mesmerized. Maybe these shoes would bring the confidence she so desperately needed.

  “Fine, I’ll wear them, but if I fall on my face and die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

  Colleen had grinned at her. “Haunt me all you want. I’m on your side. Want to practice your pitch one more time?”

  “Let’s just get going. Wouldn’t want to be late to the party of the year.”

  The drive from Colleen’s apartment in Robbinsdale to the newly built Century Hotel in downtown Minneapolis passed more quickly than Ella would have liked.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she’d confessed as they pulled up.

  Colleen had waved her words away. “Nonsense. You can and you will. You have months of research under your belt. No one could be more prepared than you.”

  “They will know I don’t belong here. They’ll know I’m just pretending.”

  “Why do you hold so tightly to the idea that you don’t belong? The party is for shareholders, and you are a shareholder.”

  “Colleen, I have one half of a share. One half.” Ella’s palms grew damp. She clutched the edges of her seat to keep from wiping her hands on the satin of her dress. “They’ll see right through me the second I walk through that door. I’m just a housekeeper, a glorified maid.”

  Colleen pulled up to the valet stand and put her car in park. “Ella, look at me. No, look me in the eyes. Ella Girl, you are the daughter of a King, and n
o one can look down on you.”

  “I used to be the daughter of a king.” It was true. Her dad had been Michael Bradley, the King of Clean, owner of the Helping Hands cleaning empire. But all that came to a screeching halt when he died two years ago.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. Do you believe you are a child of God? He’s the king I mean. You are every bit as worthy as the people inside this hotel. Not because you have half a share or a thousand, not because of your job or anything in your bank account.” Colleen had been so earnest, Ella couldn’t stop herself from nodding.

  Besides, Colleen was right—she had studied for months, practicing and perfecting her formulas as well as her sales pitch. It was time to take Essentially Ella to the next level. All she needed to do now was convince Mr. Vassos to listen to her for five minutes. Surely he’d give that much time to the daughter of an old friend. And then, hopefully, he’d love her idea.

  “You got this. Go in and knock ’em dead.”

  Right.

  Now, Ella shifted again in her too-small shoes as the elevator dinged to the lobby.

  “I can do this,” Ella murmured. “I am prepared. I am ready. I can do this.”

  The doors slid open.

  Oh no.

  The curving back of the tiny elevator was a clear pane of glass, a window to the world. Supposedly these glass elevators were elegant and classy, offering riders a view of the sprawling city below…but the open look across the high vista of downtown Minneapolis sent a shiver down Ella’s spine. It was easier to pretend she wasn’t up so high when she didn’t have a constant reminder of the distance. The elevator seemed to be designed to make passengers feel like they were soaring into the clouds.

  Maybe she should take the stairs instead.

  She took a step back and nearly stumbled. Nope. In these shoes the elevator was the only real option.

  Ella wobbled inside, grabbed onto the brass handrail, and hit the button for the twentieth floor. She would just face forward, breathe deeply, keep her eyes on the wall panel, and watch the numbers go up as she rose higher and higher. She would be fine.

  Probably.

  After all, the odds of plummeting to death in a catastrophic elevator incident were about one in 10.5 million.

  Above the number panel was a poster for a charity event happening tonight on the twenty-first floor. Buy-in was listed at three thousand dollars. Apparently it was an opportunity for rich people to prove to their rich friends how charitable they all were.

  Checking her reflection in the mirrored surface of the elevator wall, Ella noticed one of her blonde curls escaping the updo she and Colleen had labored over earlier. She reached a hand up to re-pin the wayward piece of hair. This whole outfit was beginning to feel like a costume, a mask that Ella put on to accomplish her goal.

  Her stomach grumbled, lunch with Colleen a distant memory. See—she did need her regular purse. At least then she’d have snacks.

  This had to be the slowest elevator in the world.

  The doors finally started to slide shut when she heard a shout.

  “Hold the door!”

  Ella rolled her eyes but stuck her hand against the door to keep it open. A tuxedoed man slid in, bringing the spicy scent of cologne. The delicious, heady fragrance washed hints of pine and summer rain over her. He carried a purple stole in his hands.

  One of the upper crust, heading to the upstairs party. She knew the type.

  “Thank you. Floor twenty-one, please,” Tuxedo said as he stood slightly to the left.

  Yep. She hit the button, stole a glance sideways.

  Goodness. The man was possibly the most handsome human being she’d ever shared a small space with. His tuxedo stretched across broad shoulders, and dark, wavy hair skimmed the back of his neck, nearly to his collar. His green eyes sat over a Grecian nose. Suddenly the heights weren’t the only thing making her blood zing through her veins.

  Oh brother. She hadn’t come to the party to swoon over the men.

  Focus, Ella, focus. You have one night to make this happen. One night to change lives.

  No distractions allowed.

  She risked another glance at him.

  Acknowledgments

  I listened with rapt attention to Susan May Warren’s announcement with Lindsay Harrel in the fall of 2019. I had no idea how their call for applications to Sunrise Publishing’s inaugural year would drastically change my life. How Still the One would take shape from an idea in my head to a story on the page—nor, truly, how many incredible people would help me bring it to life.

  This novel has been an opportunity and exercise of spiritual growth for me. Gratitude and praise for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

  Not a word could have been written without the endless support of my husband, Brian, and our sons. Thank you for giving me the courage and support to pursue this calling. For giving me the endless hours required to write, feeding me, cheering me on, and providing invaluable feedback. I could not have done this without you. Thank you for believing in me and telling me, “We know you can do this.”

  My mom, who has been my longtime cheerleader. Thank you for encouraging my writing at an early age, for chasing down every author who would speak to me at the elementary school programs, and for sharing in my excitement. A special thank you to each of my siblings who shared in my enthusiasm and prayed for me throughout this process.

  Susan May Warren, whose tireless guidance, mentoring, prayer, and friendship has made me a better writer and person. I’m grateful beyond words. Thank you for believing in me long before I believed in myself. Your expert gentle redirection (aka constructive criticism) and genuine passion for teaching are gifts, and I treasure being a recipient of your generous and faithful ministry. I would not be the writer I am today without your instruction through Novel Academy, classes at Oregon Christian Writer’s, and the mentorship of this past year. Thank you for sharing your world of Deep Haven and the beloved characters with me.

  Lindsay Harrel, who was willing to ask the hard plot and detail questions. Thank you for pushing me to chase down answers to those niggling questions a reader would have. For every email that started with, “One more thing—,” thank you.

  For my Season One Deep Haven writing partners—Andrea Christenson and Michelle Sass Aleckson. I can’t imagine doing this without you. You’ve made this experience so much richer and transformative. I’m honored to work with you. Thank you for sharing prayers laughter, and tears. For responding to every “SOS” writing emergency I had. The endless hours of brainstorming, rewriting, and editing would not have been nearly as much fun (rewriting is fun, right?) without you. Your GIFs, emojis, and writer memes are the best.

  Barbara Curtis, my editor. What an amazing gift you have! Thank you for helping me hone the story, finessing it to completion. You’ve helped me smooth out the muddled bits and polish the best of it all to make the story shine.

  Rel Mollet, whose passion for books translates to expert proofreading and marketing skills. I appreciate your attention to detail with the eyes of not just a reader, but a true bibliophile.

  Tari Faris, who never hesitated to jump on the phone and spitball a scene. Thank you for sharing your insights. You have no idea how many times you talked me down from the angst, strife, and turmoil of being an author working under a deadline.

  For members of the My Book Therapy huddles who have supported me, I am grateful. Barbara, Deanna, Gracie, Heidi, Jenni, Kristi, Mandy, Nancy, Suzy, and Tari, thank you for your prayers and encouragement. How many times did your prayers seem to go directly to God’s ears and show up for me when I needed it most?

  For the ladies of CCM: Audra, Beth, Bethany J., Bethany L., Heather, Jordan, Keli, Michele, and Patty. I’m ever grateful that God brought us together. Your prayers, friendship, encouragement, and excitement for me have filled my heart.

  Thank you for my local writing critique group: April, Danika, Julie, Kendy, Kelly, Linda, Melinda, Melody, and Sandra. You have helped me grow
through your prayer, feedback, edits, and encouragement. Thank you for pushing me to go deeper, cut out the fluff, choose great verbs, and show the story on the page.

  Amie and Kim, who listened to me endlessly wax on and on about my fictional friends, who read my earliest writings years ago (the really awful ones!), and still believed in me. Thank you for every word of encouragement and feedback you gave me when all I had was a dream and a scene.

  For the Thursday night Novel Academy peptalk crew. Thank you for showing up every Thursday night. I’ve learned so much being a part of such a talented and diverse group of writers.

  My greatest fear as I write this is that I will leave someone out—if that’s you, know that it’s with zero intent! I have been overwhelmed by the amount of support for this novel. My heartfelt thanks to each and every person who has been on this journey with me.

  About the Authors

  USA Today bestselling, RITA, Christy and Carol award winning novelist Susan May Warren is the author of over 80 novels with nearly 2 million books sold, most of them contemporary romance with a touch of suspense. One of her strongest selling series has been the Deep Haven series, a collection of books set in Northern Minnesota, off the shore of Lake Superior. Visit her at www.susanmaywarren.com.

  * * *

  Rachel D. Russell is a member of Oregon Christian Writers, My Book Therapy’s Novel Academy, and is a regular contributor to the Learn How to Write a Novel blog. When Rachel’s not cheering on one of her two teens at sporting events, she’s often interrogating her husband on his own military and law enforcement experience to craft believable heroes in uniform. The rest of her time is spent cantering her horse down the Oregon trails and redirecting her three keyboard-hogging cats. Visit her at www.racheldrussell.com.