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  She watches me in shocked silence. The silence must have only lasted a second, but it feels like I’m waiting a whole year for her response.

  “No…no. You can’t be,” she eventually reacts, but not in the way I hoped. Throwing aside the sheets, she flies out of bed, picking up her clothes. “I trusted you.” She swallows like there is a bitter taste in her mouth. “I gave you a part of me, and I don’t just mean the part between my legs! But I didn’t know the real you. You lied to me?”

  I get off the bed to join her. “Sweetheart, it wasn’t my intent…” I clasp her cheeks, but she tugs my palm away and grabs her clothes from the floor.

  “Whatever your intentions were, you tricked me. You think those people used me, well you used me, too. Don’t follow me. And I quit.”

  Her cold hard words are sharper than an icepick to my heart. I try reasoning with her once again, but she dismisses every plea and every argument. So, I let it be, giving her the space she requires.

  “Let me at least drop you off,” I offer as she clutches her handbag and paces out of the door.

  It’s one request she relents to since it’s past midnight.

  The car-ride is awkward and deafeningly quiet, a stark contrast to the blissful moments we’d had all evening. I might’ve changed names, and job titles, but the connection—the one that binds our hearts—is real. There is no changing how I feel about her.

  In front of the door to the duplex where she lives, she exits without a word and slams the car door.

  While she might be storming off now, hurt inside of her and livid with me, I’m positive it won’t be the last I see of her.

  I’ll give her the space she needs, but I’ll make it up to her.

  She deserves it.

  We deserve it.

  11

  Callie

  The next day comes and goes. Friday appears and my normal routine is thwarted by the memory that I quit my job. Something I loved dearly, taken by another man…and a man, I loved dearly, too. I both love and hate the pull I feel to him. How my heart wants to see him again.

  I stand by the window ledge of my apartment, gazing outside. The sky seems gray even though there’s not a hint of cloud on this sunny day. My mobile phone is lying on a side-table, abandoned. The phone screen is a truth-mirror right now, bearing evidence of the painful reality that I’m trying to escape. Three missed calls. I haven’t picked it up, or even glanced at the i.d. I know who it is.

  While I stay glued to the spot, the passage of time is a blur. I notice a large van pulling into in the parking lot down below. A closer look, and I recognize the signage on its side-panel, Blooms Beautiful.

  “A flower van?”

  Few moments later, my doorbell rings. I manage to drag my feet away from the window to open the door. Only to find a massive bouquet of peach roses and lilies sitting on my doorstep. They’re the most beautiful bunch of flowers I’ve ever laid glances upon—clearly personalized too and that hurts almost more.

  “No…” My hand goes up to my eyes to wipe the mist off. “I’m not getting them.”

  I retreat from the doorstep. The further I step away from them, the heavier my heart feels. I tell myself that I don’t need them. Who needs flowers anyway? I repeat, over and over, until my achingly heavy heart tells me that the ruse is not working. I need flowers—because they make me feel special and loved. I need the gesture—because it makes me feel cherished and appreciated. I need…

  “Need?” I don’t recall having used the word “need” for myself – in forever. It was always what others needed. But now, I’ve started considering my needs too. And my primal need…is Brody.

  I open the card and it says:

  My dearest Callie,

  I will spend eternity making you happy and earning your forgiveness. Please give me a second chance to show you that we are real. That my feelings are my truth.

  I love you. That is real.

  Yours forever, Brody

  Slipping out of my pajamas and into a clean pair of clothes, I rush out, reaching my former-office building in record time. I head straight for the café and buy two cups of coffee—

  one for me, one for him. Making my way into the elevator, I get off at the fifth floor and Margie at the front desk tips her head in confusion.

  I lift the cups and rush past her. She just shrugs me away.

  I reach his office—my pulse thumping louder than a bass drum.

  A short knock later, I open the glass door. “Coffee, sir?”

  Kicking back his chair, he stands up and makes it to me in two long strides. He takes his coffee cup from me and places it on the desk. “I don’t need coffee. I only need you, Callie.”

  I tilt my head to a side. “I need you to be honest with me.”

  “Honest. Yes. I can do honest.” He lop-sided smiles. “I’ve fired half the staff and started searching for twice as many people. You’ll never have to work that hard again. You’ll be by my side, running this company, because from what I can see you ran it before I was here.”

  “Ok,” I sip on my drink, the edge of the cup hiding a grin. “On one condition…”

  “Name it baby,” he utters with an urgency, his eyes seeking answers in mine.

  “You make me coffee every morning.”

  He laughs, a deep-throated laugh of relief. “Deal.”

  “In bed,” I say with a mischievous smile.

  “Always.” His look intensifies, as I swim in their silvery blue depths. And my core rustles like the beautiful notes of jazz love tune, popping and crackling with romance.

  “I love you, Callista West,” he whispers in my ear, trailing goosebumps down my neck as he wraps me in his arms.

  “I love you, too, Brody Ash,” I sing the refrain back to him and the song of love is ours.

  Epilogue

  Brody

  Her fingers press mine leaving marks in the valley of my palm as another wave of contractions push through her, starting from her ribs right down to her pelvis. Her features have reddened from the lasting trauma and sweat is peppered over her face like dewdrops on a petal.

  “Baby, you can do this,” I assure her again, dabbing the perspiration off. I’d take every ounce of my sweetheart’s pain if I could, but all I can do is try and support her.

  Nonetheless, she is brave. She wants to go through this for the sake of our babies; she’s wanted it from the day we got married two years ago.

  “Brody, I think they’re coming” she grits through her teeth, clutching my wrist, the force with which she’s doing so letting me how painful the contractions are.

  Finally, four massive pushes later, our first baby is born, followed closely by the second—our beautiful twins, Seraphina and Samuel.

  “God Brody, they’re perfect!” She tears up, while cradling them both in her arms.

  “Yes…” I brush their feathery-soft scalp, planting a kiss on their little foreheads. “They are perfect. Perfect like you. Perfect like us.”

  And this moment only reminds me, all over again, why I was meant to stay single until I met her. Sure, we have the occasional tiff, but there’s never been a night we’ve gone to bed angry. She’s the yin to my yang, the sweetness in my life.

  “Mrs. Ash.” I kiss her lips. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Yup. Coffee—decaf.” Her eyes gleam, “Extra hot.”

  I grin. It’s always going to be extra hot when it comes to our love.

  ~THE END~

  If you liked Stella’s story, you’ll love the next book in the series—

  Be sure to join the Crew newsletter to find out when the release is coming in June and how to be the first to read it!

  Hugs and kisses, Ally

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  ALLY’s FAN CREW

  Ally loves to hear from every reader.

  You can email her at [email protected]

&nb
sp; Pineapple Cheese Ball

  Did you wonder what they had to eat at the jazz club? Well, this is what I imagine one of the appetizers was and it’s one of my all time favorites! And it’s a quick one bowl recipe to make, just remember it needs time back in the fridge!

  Pineapple Cheese Ball

  Prep: 15 minutes

  Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes

  Servings: 16

  2 8oz blocks of cream cheese, softened

  1 1/2 c. crushed pineapple, very well drained—seriously, drain it or you’ll regret it

  2 green onions, thinly sliced

  1 small green bell pepper, finely chopped (if you don’t like bell pepper, I’ve used chopped Canadian bacon and bacon bits before instead)

  2 tsp seasoned salt

  Freshly ground black pepper

  2 c. Chopped toasted pecans, divided (1/2 c and 1 1/2 c)

  Directions:

  1. In large bowl, combine cream cheese, pineapple, onions, peppers (or your substitute), 1/2 cup of the pecans, salt and black pepper. After well mixed, place mixture on large piece of plastic wrap and form into a ball shape. Wrap tightly and place inside of smaller bowl to maintain shape. Refrigerate until well chilled, about 2 hours.

  2. When ready to serve, place remaining pecans (1 1/2 c) on large plate and roll the unwrapped cheeseball to coat the outside well. Refrigerate again for at least 30 minutes.

  3. Serve with crackers or your favorite cut up veggies.

  Hope you enjoy!

  Hugs and kisses, Ally Crew

  Sneak Peak of OPEN DOORS-Instalove Hearts 2

  Chapter 1

  Dani

  Using a palm to shield myself from the glare of the sun, I roll my eyes up and release a sigh that can probably be heard around the world.

  I would’ve felt dreadfully small, if I was standing in front of a two-floor townhouse. But now that I’m staring at a behemoth structure—with swanky facets of metal, glass and stone resembling a 3D Picasso model—it’s making me feel absolutely tiny, in the crappiest way.

  Homelessness tends to do that to one’s pride. Ouch. Even thinking about my situation causes a pain in my body that I can’t tell where it’s at, but it’s just constantly there—a reminder.

  My fingers slip into my pocket and pluck out a picture. There are spider-crinkles on one of its bent corners, and a message scribbled in ink on its matte-white back. The photograph is a rare snapshot from the past. At least fifteen years old, since it has dad posing beside mom.

  The best mom any girl could ever want for.

  A heavy film of emotion glazes over my pupils as my attention settles on her young smile. It’s been a month, and the pangs of grief are still overwhelming. Especially since I can feel her memories thinning into the distance, like beautiful dreams, while I’m stuck here, facing an ugly reality, alone.

  Life can be a damn bitch.

  Dad left mom over an infidelity scandal when she was pregnant with my twin brothers. He hasn’t so much as sent us a Christmas card since. Mom was everything for us. With her gone, we’re now close to having nothing. Literally. Apparently, the mortgage company wouldn’t grant us leeway if an installment is missed—not even for a month. So, for a 21-year-old grieving orphan, with two siblings to care for, faced with the looming foreclosure of their only home—what’s the only way “out”?

  A miracle.

  “Exactly!” I say to myself and make a man walking by jump.

  Which is what I’m hoping I stumbled across by unearthing this photo and its cryptic message, when foraging through her belongings.

  My stares drift from the smiling faces of Mom and Dad over to the third person on the extreme right. An attractive man, of about dad’s age.

  As I’m about to put it away, my attention hovers over his halting features. Framing his square face is tousled copper colored hair with a few fiery streaks of red. In contrast, his eyes are a sparkling cool blue. His features are not typically sharp. But they flaunt the smart calculatedly calm glint of a successful businessman. It gives him the aura of a man who’d be just as comfortable dealing with sleazy investors as he would be with top brass entrepreneurs.

  Shit. The stirrings in my chest evolve into a flutter.

  “Fourth time.”

  It’s the fourth darned time I’ve glimpsed at him since I found the photo, and all four times I’ve ended up with the flutters. Bizarre.

  Who reacts that way over a decade-old picture of a stranger?

  I flip the picture over.

  On the back, in neat cursive script, a message reads: I’ll always be here for you, Lily. Whatever you need. Yours, Mason

  “Mason Kenmore.” Since Mom never mentioned him, I had to do my own research. It turns out he’s a self-made property magnate, with a multi-billion dollar portfolio of fancy properties and condos under his belt. Like the one I’m currently standing in front of. While I don’t know how he knows mom, I can only hope Mason Kenmore’s promise of “will always be here for you” extends to Lily’s children too.

  Armed with an ounce of hope, here I stand at his doorstep now, resorting to a few desperate measures to try my luck. After having been told by his secretary that I would have to wait two weeks for an appointment at his workplace, it seemed I’d have a better chance at catching up with him at his condo. Last I checked—and maybe from some watching from across the street at the coffeeshop—he lives alone and uses a weekly professional cleaning service.

  So, I’ve decided to fast-track my way into meeting with him, by posing as a housemaid. Nope, it is not a brilliant plan. It is a frantic one.

  And that’s not even the worst of it. Since I do not own a maid’s costume and have very little money to spare, I shopped at an outlet that offers customers a super-deal on costumes. Sadly, I discover they offer the worst-deal on fitting too. And I’ve had to squeeze all hundred-sixty-five pounds of my generous ass-and-boobs into its form-fitting cut. Which explains the inappropriately short-n-tight attire that my trench coat is hiding.

  God, what am I doing? Shush Dani. All’s fair in love…in war…and in saving homes!

  I hold my chin up and walk up to the door.

  I’m about to step in, to greet the doorman, when the wrong side of my heels strike the short entrance step and I nearly trip over. Just then, a brisk wind blows past and my coat flaps up to reveal the costume beneath it.

  The doorman’s brows shoot right up to his hairline, revealing his opinion of my skimpy attire.

  I quickly clinch the edges of my coat together, and glance at the name on his security badge. “Fred?” I flash him a sheepish smile, “I’m here to clean Mr. Kenmore’s place.”

  “Ok. Wait here, please…” He rubs the tip of his nose and then steps aside to make a call. At some point, I hear a whisper that sounds like “Mr. Kenmore” and “someone to see you.”

  Shit. The security here’s tighter than I thought it’d be, and the possibilities of me not getting caught are looking woefully slimmer.

  Miracle…I need you.

  Want to find out who this Mason is and if he’ll be what Dani needs? Read more here— OPEN DOORS!

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  Alyx

  “Please, Alyx!” My sister’s voice stabs me through my earpiece as I finish up my five-mile run.

  “Addison, I have plans today. You’ll just need to cancel.”

  She sneezes and her voice comes out all squeaky. “But…but I helped you when you started your business.”

  And there it is. The guilt-payback. I love my sister, but the females in my family have a genetic abnormality. Their DNA makes them able to manipulate men with only a few words. I’d think they were bitten by some radioactive emotional spider, but their enhanced skills aren’t that cool.