by N. R. Larry
My hand trails down Barron’s arm. “Do you want to stay for the reception?”
He grabs the nape of my neck and plants a delicious kiss on my lips. “I can’t. I have another call.”
My heart pangs, but I smile. “Another angry woman needs sex-me shoes?”
“Perhaps.” He chuckles before taking my hands in his. “Do you, Madison Hellis, promise to think about my offer?”
A nervous current radiates down my spine. “I do.”
His hand travels from the small of my back to my shoulder, never leaving my skin.
I shiver at the fire of hope burning in his eyes.
“I’ll be back for you, lass.”
The promise echoes in my bones, and we seal it the only way that’s proper.
With a fistful of his shirt wrapped around my hand, I press my lips against his one last time before setting him free. “You better.”
The End… for now.
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About the Author
Anya J Cosgrove lives in Québec with her husband, her beautiful son, and two mischievous cats. She works as a veterinarian by day. She’s a travel and Disney junkie and is passionate about her favorite paranormal series. What would Buffy do? Kick ass!
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Do You Believe in Magic
EmKay Connor
About Do You Believe in Magic
Can one pair of shoes, one weekend, and one amazing man make Allegra Ambra a believer in the magic of true love?
WTF? Allegra Ambra can have any guy she wants, but something is hinky in the Universe. For the first time ever, she can’t get a date for a very important wedding. She needs a date AND he needs to be superhot to outshine the groom.
After all, her rival and nemesis might have gotten engaged and married first and will likely pop out kids first, but Allegra is still smarter and prettier and more successful…right?
When she stumbles on a pair of allegedly magic fuck-me pumps, she’s desperate enough to try anything.
Chapter 1
“Muffy Dandridge’s wedding is in two days, and I don’t have a date or a decent pair of shoes.” Allegra Ambra slouched in the booth opposite her BFF and sucked on the neon green straw poking out of her margarita until the insides of her cheeks touched. The icy concoction numbed her throat all the way down but didn’t do much to squelch the panic burning beneath her sternum.
“I thought you were going with Marcus What’s-his-name.” Sandy took a dainty sip of her appletini, frowning in disapproval when Allegra’s straw made a rude sucking noise. “Slow down, Al. That’s your second drink in less than twenty minutes.”
“You don’t get it, San.” She mimicked her bestie’s abbreviated use of her name, desperation and frustration adding a note of condescension. “Marcus got back with his ex after he found out she was pregnant. He doesn’t even know if it’s his kid. Nice of him to leave me high and dry, hmm?”
“What about that hot guy at your office?” Sandy shoved the platter of loaded potato skins across the table in a less than subtle hint Allegra should eat something to soak up the booze in her belly.
“Transferred to the Seattle office.”
“’K. How about the blond with an eight-pack at your gym?”
“Gay.”
“Confirmed gay or suspected gay?”
“Kicked out of the gym for blowing one of the other male trainers in the locker room gay.”
“Jim? James? Jay?” Sandy frowned and listed off a few more names that started with J. “You know. That really sweet guy who bought your latte at Starbucks.”
“Joseph.” Allegra shuddered. “He brought his mom along on our first—and only—date.”
Sandy named five more guys Allegra had dated over the past year, and each was excluded as a possible wedding date candidate.
“Kenyon?”
“Working as a digital nomad in Thailand.”
“Michael?”
“Arrested when the meth lab in his grandmother’s garage blew up.”
“Lance?”
“Still rebounding. He cried when he talked about his old girlfriend.”
“Steve?”
“You mean Even Steven?” She moued in distaste. “He insisted on splitting the check every time, even when his entrée was more expensive than mine.”
“That Tony guy from the dating app?”
“Five foot flat…with lifts.”
Sandy’s eyes glazed over, and her mouth curved up in a sappy smile. “I don’t mind short guys.”
Allegra grimaced. Sandy’s current boyfriend, Howard, was an inch shorter than she was, but he didn’t have a chip on his shoulder like Tony’d had.
“It wasn’t his height,” Allegra said. “It was his crappy attitude about it.”
“There’s always Alphonso.”
“Who?” Allegra scrunched her brow, trying to pull an Alphonso out of her memory banks.
“The really cute guy you went to Senior Prom with.”
Gah, that was ten years ago. Still, she was desperate…
“Does he still live around here” she asked Sandy. “Is he hot as fuck? Wealthy? An Instagram influencer with a million followers? I can’t show up at the wedding with any old lump, you know.”
“I don’t understand this whole competition thing you have going on with Muffy.” Sandy gulped half the appletini, clearly fed up with Allegra’s moaning and groaning about no date for the wedding from hell. “If you don’t like her, why go to the wedding at all?”
“I don’t want to go to her wedding,” Allegra clarified slowly, as if explaining how to sound out letters to a first grader. “It’s the principle of the thing. If I don’t show up, she’ll tell everyone it’s because I was jealous.”
“But you are jealous,” Sandy pointed out.
“Am not.”
“Are, too.”
“I most certainly am not jealous of Muffy the Scruffy Dandridge.”
“Then why are you calling her a name we made up in tenth grade? Besides, she took care of that bikini line problem.”
“I’m not jealous,” Allegra said again, wondering if the envy churning in her gut was turning her complexion green. “It’s just that, well…lately, Muffy’s life is going according to plan, whereas mine…”
“Sucks,” Sandy declared.
“Yeah.” The admission came out with a defeated sigh. She shoved away the empty margarita glass and greasy potato skins. “I don’t get it, San. I was top of my class. Graduated with honors. Top-tier internship. Job offer from an advertising agency with big-name clients. Money rolling in. Great boyfriend. Vacations in Greece, Brazil, Hawaii.” She drew a checkmark in the air for each accomplishment.
“You were living the high life while Muffy was working at the family car dealership and living at home.” Sandy sighed, having heard the litany many, many times.
“I don’t get it. I’m smarter than Muffy. Prettier, funnier, more talented. I should be the one sporting a two-carat platinum ring on my finger, marrying the heir to a family fortune, and moving into a house in Rittenhouse Square.”
“You are also so much humbler than Muffy.” Sandy reached across the table and covered Allegra’s hand with her own to soften her sarcastic comment. “I know things have been tough since you moved back to Philly from Chicago, but honestly, I’m tired of hearing you grouse about Muffy’s good fortune. She’s not a bad person, and she deserves a great guy, a nice house, and cute kids just as much as any of us do. You two have had this ridiculous competition going on since junior high. Don’t you thin
k you should be past all that?”
Shame and frustration added to the burning sensation in the center of Allegra’s chest. She thought she’d put the juvenile rivalry behind her when she scored the fabulous job and perfect—or so she’d thought—boyfriend in Chicago five years ago. She’d proven to everyone, including Muffy, that Allegra Ambra was more than the neglected daughter of a single mom with a drug problem on scholarship to one of Philadelphia’ finest private academies.
Girls like Muffy, and even Sandy, who were born into wealth and privilege didn’t understand what it was like to constantly be judged and found lacking because of the labels in your clothes, the emblem on your car, or the zip code where you lived.
Not everyone had looked down on her because of her background, but Muffy took every opportunity to remind people that Allegra wasn’t “one of them.” She was still doing it, having scrawled on the wedding invitation, “Black tie attire required. Better hit the thrift stores now.”
“Now” had been double underlined and in all caps. The curt handwritten note triggered the childhood humiliation Allegra thought she’d finally overcome and now made it imperative she show up at Muffy’s wedding at least appearing like she had her shit together.
“San, you’re my best friend in the whole world, but there are some thing you just don’t get.” Allegra leaned forward, the lovely buzz created by back-to-back margaritas now gone. “Muffy doesn’t want me at her wedding anymore than I want to be there; she invited me so she could snub me. She’ll tell everyone that poor Allegra Ambra was too ashamed to show her face because she lost her job and her boyfriend and had to come crawling home.”
“That’s not tru—” Sandy started.
“It’s all true except the part about me being ashamed.” Allegra fumbled in her wallet for a twenty and tucked it under her empty glass, then checked her phone. “If I hurry, I can get over to the consignment shop on Filmore. I don’t know if they carry hot single guys, but their shoe inventory is incredible. At least I’ll look good when I walk into Muffy’s wedding by myself.”
Chapter 2
Reuben Birdwhistle shoved the last glossy black trash bag into the dumpster behind his grandmother’s consignment shop and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. The alley behind her shop was dark with shadows as the summer sun began to set. Dirty and sticky from his efforts to clean out her storeroom, he couldn’t wait for a hot shower and cold beer.
He returned to the store through the back door, pausing to make sure it was locked tight. The old Philly neighborhood was being gentrified, which was good for business, but there were still sketchy characters in the area. He hated that Gram continued to manage the shop by herself, which was why he volunteered to help out once or twice a week. With the way his own business was taking off, he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to put in hours at Glinda’s Goodies. Even though she was eighty, Glinda Birdwhistle was no closer to slowing down that he was.
“Trash is out, Gram,” he called, stopping to chug a bottled water from the small fridge he’d purchased a couple of years ago so she could store snacks and meals after her last assistant quit. “What’s next?”
When she didn’t answer, Reuben strode into the front of the shop, the low hum of conversation indicating she was busy with a customer. He parted the curtains shielding the storeroom from public view and stopped in his tracks as if he’d stepped into a patch of Krazy Glue.
A low hiss of appreciation escaped before he could help himself, gaze fixed on the young woman smiling and chatting with Gram as if his eyeballs were stuck in another bit of super-sticky adhesive.
She was…gorgeous. Beautiful. Inhaling to fill lungs that had gone empty, he added breathtaking. Long brown hair with auburn…no, caramel…no, wait, honey-colored highlights, depending how the light hit the wavy tresses, fell to the middle of her back. He was too far to determine the color of her eyes, but they sparkled with humor and intelligence. Her mouth, dressed in bright red lipstick, curved in a wide, natural smile as she nodded at something Gram said. A red and white checked sundress showed off a curvy figure, soft golden skin, and legs—
Oh, yeah.
Reuben was definitely a leg guy. He swallowed. Hard.
The two women turned, and he wondered if they’d heard the loud gulping sound.
“Come over here,” Gram said before he could slink back into the storeroom. “We need a man’s opinion.”
Hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, he wound his way through the racks of clothing, shoes, purses, coats and other wardrobe items. He felt the young woman’s eyes on him the entire time, prompting a rushing sound in his ears as his visceral reaction escalated with each move in her direction.
When he stepped into the corner of the shop with a dressing room and mirrors where customers could try on and check out potential purchases, the first thing his downcast eyes took in were four-inch red patent stilettos, the color so glossy it shimmered like liquid fire.
His eyes skimmed upwards, taking in the exaggerated arch of the young woman’s feet and the pronounced tightening of her calf muscles until her silky, sun-kissed legs disappeared beneath the hem of her sundress.
“Those shoes were made for you,” he rasped, his throat unexplainably dry. “Buy them. Now. Before someone else comes in the shop and wants them.”
“Down, boy.” Gram laughed and patted his arm. “Miss Ambra is shoe-shopping for a wedding she’s attending this weekend. When she described her dress, I knew I had the perfect pair for her.”
His grandmother’s conversation gave Reuben a few seconds to inhale and clear his head. He’d never reacted to a woman like this before, as if sucker-punched by attraction. Close up, her eyes were greenish-brownish-hazel, and in addition to the humor and intelligence he’d recognized at first glance, there was a glimmer of sadness. Up close, she was indeed attractive, but Reuben had met lots of pretty young women.
Why, then, did Miss Ambra affect him like a frat boy chugging a beer bong?
“Just Allegra.”
The young woman’s voice was breathy, as if she, too, had been caught off guard by the introduction. When she finally lifted her eyes to meet his, the rushing sound filled his ears again and he staggered as if the ground had tilted. She reached out and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt before they crashed into each other. Reuben’s arms automatically circled Allegra to keep her upright as his senses went into overload.
The scents of floral shampoo, baby powder, and salty feminine perspiration filled his nose. The plush firmness of her breasts against his chest set his pulse pounding. The cool touch of her palms and fingers on his biceps have him a headrush. The delicate hitch of breath as she exhaled in surprise said she felt something, too.
“What happened?” she whispered. “It felt like someone put a hand between my shoulder blades and—”
“—shoved,” he finished.
Gram chuckled. “I told you those shoes are magic.”
“Not that old Glinda-the-Good-Witch-of-the-South routine,” Reuben said, reluctantly releasing Allegra. He frowned at his grandmother before turning his gaze back to their customer, brows raised meaningfully.
Allegra’s eyes flitted between them. “As in Glinda from The Wizard of Oz?”
“Pure coincidence they share the same name.” He took a step back, testing the hypothesis that distance, even a couple of feet, would lessen the pull of the invisible rope that seemed to be tugging him closer to Allegra.
Nope. If anything, the impulse to close the space between them strengthened.
“You can’t buy those shoes for dancing at a wedding without testing them out,” Gram said.
She waved off Allegra’s objections, hurrying over to the counter and bending to turn up the volume of the overhead speaker system. The upbeat pop tune immediately ended—as if by magic—and a ballad made for gliding around the dance floor came on.
“Reuben, will you do the honors?” Gram returned to the dressing room area, seatin
g herself in a chintz-covered wing chair. “Come on, dear boy. Plenty of space here.”
“Will you humor my grandmother?” he asked softly, extending his hand, palm up.
“Of course.” Allegra rested her palm atop his, another breathy sigh of astonishment escaping when his fingers curled around hers and his other hand circled her waist.
“One, two, three. One, two, three.” Gram alternately hummed along with the tune and counted out the tempo as she watched Reuben lead Allegra in circles around the small space. “Oh, how I loved to go out dancing with your grandfather.”
Reuben barely registered Gram’s words, every atom in his body attuned to the woman in his arms.
“You’re very light on your feet,” he murmured, whispering in her ear as an excuse to brush his cheek against her sleek strands of hair.
“I feel like I’m dancing on air.” Her barely audible giggle sounded like wind chimes. “Did your grandmother make you take lessons when you were young?”
“I owe her a huge thank-you for all those Wednesday afternoons spent at Madame Suzanne’s École de Danse.” He dared to pull Allegra a bit closer. “I never imagined all those hours of letting young ladies step on my toes were preparing me for this exact moment.”
Allegra started, almost throwing off their effortless choreography, but Reuben handled it like a pro. Until he glanced down and caught the look in her eyes.
They twirled to a stop, eyes locked, bodies still pressed together.
“Are you busy Saturday?” Allegra asked, the amber irises glowing with anticipation, inevitability, and promise.
“Yeah.” Exuberant excitement filled his chest, and he spun Allegra under his arm and into a back-bowing dip that caused the ends of her hair to brush the floor. “I have a date with you and those magic shoes.”