He kissed her again, quick and hard to shut her up. “Quiet. My turn. I chased you that day, did you know that? I ran my heart out for you, Red, but you were already on the train. And then I called and called, needing to hear your voice and explain, but when you didn’t pick up—when you decided I wasn’t worth picking up for—you broke me a little.”
She swallowed, wanting to make him stop, and yet knowing that they needed to do this to move forward.
He let out a slow breath, resting his forehead on hers for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “When I told you nobody believed in me, I meant nobody. Not until my sister showed up unexpectedly. I’ve always been everyone’s worst-case scenario, and I thought I was over that, but then you happened. And you mattered. You mattered so damn much, and—” Jason swallowed. “Fuck. I love you. I didn’t know it back then. I didn’t know what I was feeling, and I treated you—us—carelessly. But I know it now, Red, and I swear to God, I am not letting you go ever again. I will camp outside your apartment, I’ll follow you to every doctor’s appointment, and if you even think about going on a date with someone else, I will happily pull a fire alarm at the restaurant. I won’t stop. I won’t stop chasing you, and I sure as hell won’t stop loving you.”
Leah threw herself at him. Right there in the middle of the street, she launched herself at Jason, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her face in his neck. “I’m sorry for not believing in you. You’re the best man I know, and I should have trusted that.”
He cupped the back of her head and held her close. “Let’s start over. Start fresh, except this time we can cut straight to the good stuff.” He leaned down to her ear and nipped it lightly. “Since I already know how to play your body like a fiddle,” he murmured.
She laughed. “And I yours.”
“Too true.” Jason pulled back, smiling down at her as he held out a hand, which she happily took. “Come home with me. Come meet my sister and reassure her that you won’t go running every time you see her. And then you can talk to her belly and get to know the little critter who I have every intention of making your niece or nephew some day very soon . . .”
Leah skidded to a halt. “Mr. Rhodes. Are you telling me you believe in happily ever after?”
Jason hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her close, kissing her head. “From this day forward, I do, Red. I absolutely do.”
acknowledgments
I absolutely need to kick off my acknowledgments with a huge thank-you to my agent, Nicole, who when I nervously said, “I think I want to write a series about wedding planners, even though there won’t be hot guys on the cover,” she said, “Absolutely.” Which sometimes is exactly what we authors need to hear—that it’s okay to write the stories in our hearts, and the Wedding Belles series was and is firmly in my heart, demanding to be told!
Which leads me to the woman who made the whole thing possible: Elana Cohen. This is the first time Elana and I have worked together, and I just have to say, match made in heaven. The first time we spoke, it was totally a BFF situation, and then she had to go and take her Awesome a step further by being an absolutely amazing editor.
To the Pocket team, for being ridiculously good at what you do—from the cover designer to the production team to the publicity and marketing gurus, you’ve been amazing every step of the way. Thank you!
Lastly, to my readers. I love you guys. For real. Thanks for all the support!
Meet the high-powered, sexy women behind
THE WEDDING BELLES
The all-new series from USA Today bestselling author
Lauren Layne!
Keep reading for a sneak peek of book one,
To Have
and to Hold
Available from Pocket Books August 2016!
Hold on. Back up. Back all the way up. What do you mean you’re getting married?”
It was eleven p.m. on a Wednesday, and Seth Tyler was exactly where he always was these days: behind his expansive mahogany desk at the Tyler Hotel Group, suit jacket slung over the back of his ergonomic chair, tie begging to be undone, impeccably pressed white shirt cuffed at the wrists.
He raked a hand through his thick light brown hair in frustration and fixed his younger sister with his best no-nonsense glare, an approximation—like everything else he seemed to do lately—of his deceased father.
When Seth’s father dropped dead of a heart attack eight months ago, Seth had thought the hardest part about his father’s passing—other than the mourning, of course—would be taking over the family company.
Sure, Seth had been groomed for the role. He’d wanted the president and CEO title. He’d always wanted it.
Eventually.
But not yet, for God’s sake.
Seth had no problem admitting that he was a perfectionist, and he’d been bound and determined to take over the family company his way. The right way.