by Tessa Bailey
“You’re too late,” Ben said, looking smug. “I asked Abby weeks ago. She’s throwing it to Honey.”
“You slick motherfucker.” Louis laughed and punched Ben in the shoulder. “I guess I deserve that for not being on the ball. At least Roxy agreed to move in with me. I’ll have to trick her into marrying me another way. Maybe hypnosis . . .”
“Honey and I are looking for our own place, too. Somewhere between Columbia and NYU, so we have an equal commute.” Ben slid his hands into the tuxedo pockets. “I can’t believe we won’t have this place to come to anymore. The storage room on the ground floor is where Honey and I . . . you know . . . kissed for the first time.”
Alec groaned toward the sky. “This is about to get sappy, isn’t it?”
Russell cleared the tightness from his throat. “I’ve carried Abby up these steps more times than I can count. I’m going to miss that.”
“I picked Roxy up for our first official date upstairs.” Louis ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, listen. We’ll just take turns crashing each other’s places. Probably wherever Honey is, though. She’s the best cook.”
A smile spread across Ben’s face. “She’ll love that.”
“It’s been a crazy year,” Russell said under his breath. “The best year.”
The three friends nodded, just as the building’s door swung open to reveal Abby in a simple, long-sleeved white dress, a crown of flowers on her head. Russell’s legs turned to glue on the spot, the air vanishing from his lungs. His nickname for her had never been more apt at that moment, elevated above him as she was like an angel, smiling into the pure, fall sunlight.
Abby’s father stood to her left, his daughter’s hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. Behind her, wearing bright red dresses were Honey and Roxy, beaming from ear to ear. Abby’s stepmother was reserved as always, but Russell caught a hint of tears shining in her eyes before he quickly turned his attention back to Abby. God, he loved her. He’d loved her. Seeing her in the very same spot he’d first witnessed her beauty, knowing she had agreed to become his wife, filled him with so much contentment and gratefulness, he was surprised he didn’t tip over and capsize.
Without taking his gaze off Abby, Russell spoke to the priest who’d been standing off to the side. “Make her my wife as fast as humanly possible, please.”
Abby laughed, a bright, beautiful sound that floated down and grabbed Russell, forcing him to meet her halfway as she descended the stairs, retrieving her from her father. He’d gotten to know him in the months preceding the wedding, and the fact was, Abby’s father hadn’t always been richer than sin. He’d started with next to nothing, giving them more in common than Russell had ever expected. The relief of having Abby’s father’s approval was vast even if he was still working on the mother. Every time they had dinner together, though, he wore her down a little more. He’d even coaxed a smile out of her the last time.
Russell looked down at Abby and got lost in her, their surroundings blurring into background noise. “Every day I wake up thinking I can’t possibly love you any more.” He kissed her forehead. “And then you look at me . . . and I’m proven wrong.”
Her eyes went even softer as she pressed her cheek to his. “You’re not alone.” He felt her breath warm his ear. “I’m so happy. You make me so happy.”
The pleasure of hearing that made his eyes closed. “I’ll never stop. Marry me so I never have to stop.”
Russell and Abby were married at the base of the Ninth Avenue stoop, surrounded by friends and the hazy, autumn breeze, after which Abby tossed two bouquets. One was caught by Honey, the other by Roxy, to the excessive delight of their boyfriends. And they all lived, deliriously happy, forever and ever.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author TESSA BAILEY lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and young daughter. When she isn’t writing or reading romance, Tessa enjoys a good argument and thirty-minute recipes.
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By Tessa Bailey
Broke and Beautiful
Chase Me
Need Me
Make Me
Line of Duty
Protecting What’s Theirs
Staking His Claim
Asking for Trouble
Officer Off Limits
His Risk to Take
Protecting What’s His
Unfixable (New Adult)
Give in to your Impulses. . .
Continue reading for excerpts from
our newest Avon Impulse books.
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CLOSE TO HEART
By T.J. Kline
THE MADDENING LORD MONTWOOD
THE RAKES OF FALLOW HALL SERIES
By Vivienne Lorret
CHAOS
By Jamie Shaw
THE BRIDE WORE DENIM
A SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN COWBOYS NOVEL
By Lizbeth Selvig
An Excerpt from
CLOSE TO HEART
by T. J. Kline
It only took an instant for actress Alyssa Cole’s world to come crashing down . . . but Heart Fire Ranch is a place of new beginnings, even for those who find their way there by accident.
Justin stared at the woman across from him. As familiar as she looked, he couldn’t put his finger on where he might have seen her before. Alyssa wasn’t from around here, that much was certain. There weren’t many women in town who could afford a designer purse, impractical boots, and a luxury vehicle more suited to city jaunts than the winter mountain terrain. But there was something else, some memory niggling at the back of his mind, teasing him, just out of reach.
Her waifish appearance reminded him of a fashion model. She was certainly lovely enough to be one, but the idea didn’t suit the woman standing in front of him. Justin assumed models would be accustomed to taking criticism and judgment, and this woman looked as if she’d crumble if he so much as raised his voice.
That was it, he realized. Behind her sadness, he recognized fear. Justin felt the uncontrollable instinct to protect Alyssa swell in his chest. She might not be his responsibility, but he couldn’t stop the desire to help her any more than he could have let the dog die. When she glanced up at him again, his mouth opened without acknowledgment from his brain.
“D’you know anything about accounting or running an office? You did pretty well with these guys. You could work here for a while, at least until you get your car fixed or figure something out, since my regular help doesn’t seem inclined to answer her phone.”
“I guess, but I couldn’t let you fire her . . .”
What the hell are you doing? He knew she came from money, since she wore a huge wedding ring. Hell, that ring alone should have been enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut, since she was another man’s wife, but his lips continued to move.
Justin laughed out loud, but he wasn’t sure whether it was at himself for his stupidity or her comment. “I can’t fire her; she’s my cousin. But maybe this would be a wake-up call to be more responsible.”
Alyssa gave him a slight smile before ducking her head again. He didn’t miss the fact that she wasn’t able to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds.
“My sister has a ranch with a few guest cabins. I can see if she has one empty. I’m sure she’ll let you stay as long as you need to.”
Her eyes jumped back up to meet his. He could easily read the gratitude, and a hopeful light flickered to life in her eyes. But there was more—a wariness he couldn’t explain and that had no reason to be there.
“Why are you being so nice? You don’t know me.”
Justin shrugged, as if car crashes and late-night emergency puppy deliveries were commonplace for him. “It’s the right thing to do.”
The light in her eyes darkened immediately and she frowned, not saying anything more. He reached for the runt, still in front of the oxygen and barely moving. “I don’
t know if this little guy is going to make it,” he warned, slipping the dropper into the puppy’s mouth. He wasn’t surprised when the puppy didn’t even try to suck. It wasn’t a good sign.
“We have to help him,” she insisted, her voice firm as she set the puppy she was feeding back into the squirming pile of little bodies.
Justin looked up at the determination he heard in her voice, the antithesis of the resignation he’d seen there only moments before. His gaze crashed into hers, and he felt an instant throb of desire. He cursed the reaction, especially since she was right, he didn’t know her or her story.
“We? Does this mean you’re staying?” The corner of his mouth tipped upward in anticipation of spending some time with her, finding out how a woman like her ended up in the middle of nowhere like this.
Easy, boy. You’re allowed to help and that’s all. That ring on her finger and that belly say she’s committed to someone else.
Yeah, well, that sadness in her eyes and the fact that she’s alone say something completely different, he internally argued with himself. Justin wondered what happened to his “no romantic entanglement” resolution and how quickly this woman was able to make him reconsider it. But he couldn’t just leave a damsel in distress to figure things out on her own. His father had taught him better than that.
An Excerpt from
THE MADDENING LORD MONTWOOD
The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series
by Vivienne Lorret
Lucan Montwood is the last man Frances Thorne should ever trust. A gambler and a rake, he’s known for causing more trouble than he solves. So when he offers his protection after Frances’s home and job are taken from her, she’s more than a little wary. After all, she knows Lord Montwood’s clever smile can disarm even the most guarded heart. If she’s not mindful, Frances may fall prey to the most dangerous game of all—love.
“You’ve abducted me?” A pulse fluttered at her throat. It came from fear, of course, and alarm. It most certainly did not flutter out of a misguided wanton thrill. At her age, she knew better. Or rather, she should know better.
That grin remained unchanged. “Not at all. Rest assured, you are free to leave here at any time—”
“Then I will leave at once.”
“As soon as you’ve heard my warning.”
It did not take long for a wave of exasperation to fill her and then exit her lungs on a sigh. “This is in regard to Lord Whitelock again. Will you ever tire of this subject? You have already said that you believe him to be a snake in disguise. I have already said that I don’t agree. There is nothing more to say unless you have proof.”
“And yet you require no proof to hold ill will against me,” he challenged with a lift of his brow. “You have damned me with the same swift judgment that you have elevated Whitelock to sainthood.”
What rubbish. “I did not set out to find the good in his lordship. The fact of his goodness came to me naturally, by way of his reputation. Even his servants cannot praise him enough. They are forever grateful for his benevolence. And I can find no fault in a man who would offer a position to a woman who’d been fired by her former employer and whose own father was taken to gaol.”
“Perhaps he wants your gratitude,” Lucan said, his tone edged with warning as he prowled nearer. “This entire series of events that has put you within his reach reeks of manipulation. You are too sensible to ignore how conveniently these circumstances have turned out in his favor.”
“Yet I suppose I’m meant to ignore the convenience in which you’ve abducted me?”
He laughed. The low, alluring sound had no place in the light of day. It belonged to the shadows that lurked in dark alcoves and to the secret desires that a woman of seven and twenty never dare reveal.
“It was damnably hard to get you here,” he said with such arrogance that she was assured her desires would remain secret forever. “You have no idea how much liquor Whitelock’s driver can hold. It took an age for him to pass out.”
Incredulous, she shook her head. “Are you blind to your own manipulations? It has not escaped my notice that you reacted without surprise to the news of my recent events. I can only assume that you are also aware of my father’s current predicament.”
“I have been to Fleet to see him.” Lucan’s expression lost all humor. “He has asked me to watch over you. So that is what I am doing.”
What a bold liar Lucan was—and looking her in the eye all the while, no less. “If that is true,” she scoffed, “you then interpreted his request as ‘Please, sir, abduct my daughter’? I find it more likely that he would have asked you to pay his debts to gain his freedom.”
“He declined my offer.”
She let out a laugh. “That is highly suspect. I do not think you are speaking a single word of truth.”
“You are putting your faith in the wrong man.” Something akin to irritation flashed in his gaze, like a warning shot. He took another step. “Perhaps those spectacles require new lenses. They certainly aren’t aiding your sight.”
“I wear these spectacles for reading, I’ll have you know. Otherwise, my vision is fine,” she countered, ignoring the heady static charge in the air between them. “I prefer to wear them instead of risking their misplacement.”
“You wear them like a shield of armor.”
The man irked her to no end. “Preposterous. I’ve no need for a shield of any sort. I cannot help it if you are intimidated by my spectacles and by my ability to see right through you.”
He stepped even closer. An unknown force, hot and barely leashed, crackled in the ever-shrinking space. She watched as he slid the blank parchment toward him before withdrawing the quill from the stand. Ignoring her, he dipped the end into the ink and wrote something on the page.
Undeterred, she continued her harangue. “Though you may doubt it, I can spot those snakes—as you like to refer to members of your own sex—quite easily. I can come to an understanding of a man’s character within moments of introduction. I am even able to anticipate”—Lucan handed the parchment to her. She accepted it and absently scanned the page—“his actions.”
Suddenly, she stopped and read it again. “As soon as you’ve finished reading this, I am going to kiss you.”
While she was still blinking at the words, Lucan claimed her mouth.
An Excerpt from
CHAOS
by Jamie Shaw
Jamie Shaw’s rock stars are back, and a girl from Shawn’s past has just joined the band. But will a month cooped up on a tour bus rekindle an old flame . . . or destroy the band as they know it?
“That was a hundred years ago, Kale!” I shout at my closed bedroom door as I wiggle into a pair of skintight jeans. I hop backward, backward, backward—until I’m nearly tripping over the combat boots lying in the middle of my childhood room.
“So why are you going to this audition?”
I barely manage to do a quick twist-and-turn to land on my bed instead of my ass, my furrowed brow directed at the ceiling as I finish yanking my pants up. “Because!”
Unsatisfied, Kale growls at me from the other side of my closed door. “Is it because you still like him?”
“I don’t even KNOW him!” I shout at a white swirl on the ceiling, kicking my legs out and fighting against the taut denim as I stride to my closed door. I grab the knob and throw it open. “And he probably doesn’t even remember me!”
Kale’s scowl is replaced by a big set of widening eyes as he takes in my outfit—tight, black, shredded-to-hell jeans paired with a loose black tank top that doesn’t do much to cover the lacy bra I’m wearing. The black fabric matches my wristbands and the parts of my hair that aren’t highlighted blue. I turn away from Kale to grab my boots.
“That is what you’re wearing?”
I snatch up the boots and do a showman’s twirl before plopping down on the edge of my bed. “I look hot, don’t I?”
Kale’s face contorts like the time I convinced him a Sour Patch Kid was just a Sw
edish Fish coated in sugar. “You’re my sister.”
“But I’m hot,” I counter with a confident smirk, and Kale huffs out a breath as I finish tying my boots.
“You’re lucky Mason isn’t home. He’d never let you leave the house.”
Freaking Mason. I roll my eyes.
I’ve been back home for only a few months—since December, when I decided that getting a bachelor’s degree in music theory wasn’t worth an extra year of nothing but general education requirements—but I’m already ready to do a kamikaze leap out of the nest again. Having a hyperactive roommate was nothing compared to my overprotective parents and even more overprotective older brothers.
“Well, Mason isn’t home. And neither is Mom or Dad. So are you going to tell me how I look or not?” I stand back up and prop my hands on my hips, wishing my brother and I still stood eye to eye.
Sounding thoroughly unhappy about it, Kale says, “You look amazing.”
A smile cracks across my face a moment before I grab my guitar case from where it’s propped against the wall. As I walk through the house, Kale trails after me.
“What’s the point in dressing up for him?” he asks with the echo of our footsteps following us down the hall.
“Who says it’s for him?”
“Kit,” Kale complains, and I stop walking. At the top of the stairs, I turn and face him.
“Kale, you know this is what I want to do with my life. I’ve wanted to be in a big-name band since middle school. And Shawn is an amazing guitarist. And so is Joel. And Adam is an amazing singer, and Mike is an amazing drummer . . . This is my chance to be amazing. Can’t you just be supportive?”
My twin braces his hands on my shoulders, and I have to wonder if it’s to comfort me or because he’s considering pushing me down the stairs. “You know I support you,” he says. “Just . . .” He twists his lip between his teeth, chewing it cherry red before releasing it. “Do you have to be amazing with him? He’s an asshole.”