Wedding planner to the rich and
famous, Amy Oliver isn’t the kind of woman to take a break even on a
vacation. No, business first and then comes pleasure—or maybe not—she’d
have to check her schedule.
While she waited in the New Zealand hotel’s bar for her assistant, Amy Oliver’s thoughts wandered to Jason. After a long day like this, she used to slip her fingers into his as soon as she sank into their bed. His fingers would collapse around hers, as if they had waited all day for her presence. Yet, the longer she held his hand, no matter how hard or how light her grip, the less and less she had felt his touch. Before long, just as she had lost the feeling of his fingers night after night, she had lost his love—even though their skins had been pressed together.
The bar around her was almost empty except for a couple who sat in the shadows. Amy took a long drink from the glass of Chardonnay and sat it back down on the bar. Droplets of condensation pooled where her fingers had pressed against the glass. Love in a touch. Love lost in that same touch. It all depended on the force. How right they had been.
Why hadn’t she listened?
The Chardonnay tasted harsh and dry, but it was nothing compared to the Arctic chill that had invaded her core.
“You ready, Amy?” Her assistant, Honeysuckle, called from the door of the hotel lounge. A large binder was stuffed against her blood-red business suit, like it was the only life preserver in a sea filled with sharks.
What parent in their right mind would name their daughter Honeysuckle?
The woman perched on the tips of her Choo’s like she was ready to pirouette across the bar. Her red hair was pulled back with one perfect little curl framing her face. No matter the amount of hairspray or thousand dollar suits, Honeysuckle still carried the shame of an overly sweet-scented name that must have been given to her by a tribe of left-over lovechildren.
“Come on!” Honeysuckle made her way across the bar, unaware of the interruption she caused in Amy’s pity party. “The wedding starts tomorrow and the florist says they’re running late with a shipment. The orchids won’t be arriving until tomorrow morning and now he’s saying that there’s no way he can get all forty-seven arrangements completed before six.”
Amy dipped her finger in the pool of condensation on her wine glass and licked it from her fingertip. Her chance at love may have come and gone, but that didn’t mean she could ignore the ignorant bliss of those who paid her to fantasize about theirs. Happy hour was officially over.
When she’s not working she can be found in the wilds of Montana working on her patience while she tries to understand the allure of various crafts (quilting, pottery, and painting are not her thing). She always believes the cup is neither half full nor half empty, but it better be filled with wine.
Check out book one The Empress of Ireland
Laila Byrne made a final promise to her friend. She will travel more and work less. After sticking a pin in a map of the world, she heads off to Ireland.Laila’s trip doesn’t work out as planned, but the mix-up results in a chance encounter with a handsome Irishman, Alasdair.
Alasdair spends all his waking hours trying to figure out how to keep his family’s century old pub, The Empress of Ireland, open for business. He doesn’t have time for anything. But when the lovely American comes across his path, will he find time?
Once you come to Ireland, you may never leave.
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