What kind of stories do you write? This is a question I get asked often. So to help new readers learn more about me, I thought I’d write a blog post about my writing.
Elle’s First Series Book Coming October 2018!
Redemptive Love, Book One from Love Transcends Series
Elle just published her debut novel, The One That Matters, but she already has more stories to share. This time, though, she has a whole book series in the works.
This October, Elle is releasing Redemptive Love–the first book in her Love Transcends series. Each novella focuses on a different heroine, each facing their own trials regarding love. Sometimes it’s their own love life, and for others, it’s the life of a loved one.
More details to come on the Love Transcends series.
Read more about Redemptive Love on its book profile.
~ Coming October 2018 ~
The One That Matters is Now Available!
Big news! Elle’s debut novel, The One That Matters, has officially been released! It’s available as an eBook and paperback. You can purchase The One That Matters at:
- Amazon.com
- Major book retailers
- Right here on Elle’s website!
Buy your copy today!
*Please note: The only eBook format available right now is through Amazon Kindle. The One That Matters will be available through other eBook vendors (iBooks, Nook, etc.) on November 12, 2018.
Elle’s Debut Novel Coming August 12, 2018!
Announcing: The One That Matters
After writing story after story for over a year, Elle is finally publishing her debut novel, The One That Matters.
Elle paints an intricate picture of the single-mom divorcée, and speaks to the real-life difficulties of divorced mothers looking for love again.
Stay tuned and follow Elle on Facebook and Twitter to get the scoop on The One That Matters.
Coming August 12, 2018
What Inspires Elle | First Feature Article
Elle’s first feature article is live on Women Writers, Women’s Books! She delves into her primary inspirations when writing, and shares a little about her very first novel.
A second feature covering her debut novel, The One That Matters, will be posted on the Women Writers, Women’s Books website next month.
The End and the Beginning | A Short Story
The glaring sun abounded above hundreds of onlookers. Blue skies dotted with puffy white clouds made this important day perfect. Twelve years of public education were finally completed, and the stadium roared with cheers and clapping. A fountain of blue graduation caps shot into the air, landing on the grass in a matter of seconds. The last of my children launched into the vast, influential world…my work finished.
For two hours the activity within the stadium did not detract from the words burned into my head from sweet Daisy Martin, my son Lucas’ dearest friend. The brilliant young woman, Senior Class President, and Valedictorian quoted Kelly Clarkson’s song “Breakaway,” and her final words hit me hard: “Take a risk, make a change, and breakaway.”
That profound statement followed me home. What had I risked in my near fifty years of being on this earth? What had I changed? The words stung like venom in my veins after my last child broke away from me. It all seemed so final. Three children I poured my heart and soul into—loving, nurturing, and guiding into responsible adults. Do I pat myself on the back and congratulate myself?
Well done, Denise. You did it. You succeeded in raising your kids, and now they’re all gone. I succumbed to sleep, approaching a morning where I am no longer employed as guardian of my youngest child.
**********
The bird’s chirped outside my window, a wicked reminder of another perfect, sunny day I was in no mood to embrace. It was Mother Nature’s obnoxious way of laughing at me. My sole purpose for existing expired yesterday as a bevy of blue caps plummeted to the ground. Not even my husband laid beside me on this Saturday morning. An early round of golf with his buddies beckoned him away.
With no plans for the day, no kid to feed, and no husband to dote on, I laid there, staring at the white nothingness of the ceiling. The imagery was clear and concise—a glimpse of my future surrounded by air in my empty nest. “A Sky Full of Stars” blared from my cell phone, pulling me from my contemplative daze. It was The Piano Guys’ instrumental version, thankfully. Had the lyrics filled my ears, I would have crumbled deeper into the bed and never answered the call.
“Hello.”
“Are you still in bed?” Theresa, my best friend, asked. “Girl, get up! Marco told Lance you went to bed depressed last night. Let’s meet for lunch?”
“My husband has a big mouth.” It was just like Marco to blab about my pity party.
“Yeah, both our husbands have big mouths. I overheard Lance on the phone with Marco this morning asking him what colors he was wearing today. Apparently, he wanted to make sure they didn’t match on the course. He’s such a metrosexual.” Theresa giggled into the phone, and I waited for her snort. She always thought she was funnier than everyone else. “Aw, come on…metrosexual? Admit it, that was funny.”
“How can something that is true, be funny?”
“I can see this will require a full day of retail therapy after lunch. I’ll call Paula to meet us at Chili’s. After two margaritas and some steak fajitas, your sourpuss mood will switch, and you’ll be a ray of sunshine.”
“A ray of sunshine? Did you receive a newsletter from mother-effing nature? Even the damn birds are chattering about me.”
“Whoa there, you really are in a shitty mood. I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“Theresa, I’m really not feeling it.”
“I don’t care. See you in three hours. Bye.”
“Three hours… I’ll lay here for another two.”
**********
Having best friends like Theresa and Paula annoyed the snot out of me today, even after my first margarita. We’d been in Chili’s Grill and Bar for thirty minutes, and neither of the Chatty Cathy’s would shut up. If the purpose of lunch was to make me feel better, they missed the mark after they rolled their eyes at me for my woeful disposition. They just didn’t get it… or me. Not today anyway. Two driven career women who never put their lives on hold for a family could never understand the ten-ton weight crushing my heart. My baby Lucas was following his brother Nathan to Texas A&M, as if there weren’t excellent schools closer to home.
It didn’t matter that Lucas had the summer before moving. He’d be on a plane early Monday morning, beginning his nomadic dream trip through Europe. Why the hell I agreed with Marco to let him go, I don’t know what I was thinking. I claim temporary insanity. I should be committed. Of course, Daisy put the idea in Lucas’ impressionable head. Damn her.
“Are you going to just sit there and stare out the blinds?” Paula asked. “Talk to us.”
“Yeah,” Theresa agreed. “You knew this day was looming. Being kidless isn’t such a horrible thing. When Jackie graduated two years ago, the relief I felt being done was monumental.”
“That’s because you have a career. Something to occupy your time. What do I have?” I asked, lifting the glass to my lips. Theresa and Paula looked at me with vacant expressions. “Exactly, I have nothing. All my years of serving on the PTA and being the team mom for water polo and golf has left me, too. Somebody should have warned me that when my last kid graduates I’ll have nothing. I don’t have any job experience. Or a hobby…” Just hearing myself made me cringe.
“You’re college-educated. Do something with your design degree,” Theresa suggested.
“It’s outdated. After twenty-five years of raising kids, nothing I learned is relevant now.” I sighed, slurping my drink down to the last drop. The girls watched me with sympathetic expressions, and I knew they were sincere.
Friends from college, Theresa and Paula had been there for me during the early years while I adjusted to married life and motherhood. They both married years after me, and each had one kid. As for me, I enjoyed motherhood and being a wife. I did it all: planned extravagant birthday parties, entertained kids during sleepovers and pool parties, hosted dinner parties for Marco’s clients. I arranged carpool schedules, attended every sporting event, and was the stereotypical dance mom when Rachel dreamed of being a ballerina. Thespian supporter and caterer when Nathan was determined to be an actor, concession stand operator, and world-class volunteer. So where’s my diploma?
“If I’m honest, I’d be scared out of my mind if I were you,” Paula said. My mouth gaped. “No, hear me out on this before you flip. It’s true, Theresa and I have been career-focused the last twenty-five years. We each birthed one kid and stopped. That was by design you know. Kids weren’t our life like they were yours.”
“She’s absolutely right,” Theresa admitted. “One was my limit. Maybe you should get a job in a daycare center so you can be around kids.”
“No, don’t do that. What about pushing Rachel to have a baby? A grandbaby would be better,” Paula said, sipping on her daiquiri.
“Okay, both of you stop. First of all, I don’t want to work in a daycare. It wouldn’t be the same as my own kids. Secondly, I’m too young to be a grandmother, even though I’m turning fifty.”
“But you might need a baby fix. I get mine working in the NICU. Look at it this way… Your kids were your passion, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Theresa smiled, and I couldn’t help but feel a little placated.
“Yes, like Theresa said, you were so involved with your kids. I, on the other hand, loved selling houses. Every time I had a client that forced me to miss one of Stephen’s baseball games, I just knew I’d get the stink eye from you. But you know what? You never glared at me once.”
“Paula, I knew how much you loved your job. I never judged you. Or you, Theresa. But now I’m alone. What am I to do with all this free time while everybody has something to call their own except me?”
Those words hung between us the rest of the day. What was I to do while my best friends worked long, funky hours and my husband had his own daily routine? I might as well be on a deserted island with a volleyball and no lifeline.
After Theresa dropped me off, I wandered around my lifeless home waiting for Marco to return. There’s nothing worse than silence when you’re used to having noisy teenagers rifling through the fridge or The Office playing on the TV mixed with laughter from the family room.
The collage of pictures lining the hallway to my bedroom held twenty-five years of memories. My sweet Rachel in pink tutus and recital costumes, her graduation from UCLA, and her wedding day. A ten-year-old Nathan dressed as Harry Potter, convinced he had special powers; in Speedos grinning wide after his team won the championship game; and in a suit for his internship on Wall Street. Lucas high-fiving Goofy at Disneyland, and him dressed in a black tuxedo with a hot pink bow tie to match Daisy’s prom dress. Newborn pictures. Pictures of Marco kissing my pregnant belly as I laughed. Years’ worth of family vacations, days at the beach, and Christmas memories… the walls covered with the most important people I loved and a life I treasured. All beautiful. All gone.
“Babe, where are you?” Marco’s raspy Latino voice called to me. I smiled, walking out of the hall of memories to the kitchen where he hummed a tune while retrieving his customary Dos Equis from the fridge.
“Hi. Good game?” I leaned against the island.
“Yeah, how was your day with the girls?” His dark eyes moved over me with an unfamiliar glint. I looked down at my chest, expecting to see salsa on my shirt, but there was none.
“I’ve had better. Why don’t I have friends who were stay-at-home moms like me? Do you think Theresa and Paula pity me?”
“No, that’s crazy talk. I know this is because of Lucas graduating and spending the summer in Europe before he moves to Texas. It’ll all be okay, baby. You’ll be okay.” Marco kissed me open-mouthed—not the quick peck I’m used to. My body went limp against him. He didn’t stop to breathe as he moved over my lips. It was then I realized how much I needed him. “One more thing,” he said, leaving me breathless. “Next Friday we’ll be hosting guests.”
“Hosting guests? What does that mean?”
“I’m throwing you a birthday party, so buy yourself a pretty dress.” He bobbed his thick black eyebrows at me.
“A party? Oh, no, no, no, no. I don’t want to celebrate my getting old,” I protested, but Marco nibbled on my earlobe. “Did you hear me?”
“Mhmm.”
“No party. I’m serious.” He moved down my neck, swiping his tongue along my skin, tantalizing my insides. “Marco.” He popped up, looking me directly in the eyes. I knew that hardened gaze; it meant this wasn’t up for discussion. “Please, I don’t want to turn fifty, let alone celebrate it.”
“The party is a done deal. And we’re not celebrating you turning fifty. We’re celebrating you, the most amazing wife and mother on the planet. I’m so grateful you were born. Now be quiet so I can have my fun.” Marco returned to kissing my neck. What else could I do but surrendered to him, grateful for the depth of his love.
**********
When I woke on this day, the day of my birth, the birds outside my window chirped a rhythmic rendition of happy birthday to me. Sunbeams entered my bedroom through the plantation shutters, crossing over me in a celebratory hug. Staring into the vastness of the white ceiling, I thought of my life, my children, and my husband. My life had been fulfilling. I lived it the way I had wanted, and Marco supported my choice to be a stay-at-home-mom. I should be grateful to acknowledge this day when so many don’t get to, but I’m not. Today I’m fifty.
I called Rachel at noon like I did every Friday. It was the one time during the week we talked. I looked forward to these calls; they often gave me a glimpse of her own married life.
“Hi Mom. Happy birthday!”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to be gracious.
“Are you excited about the party? Dad’s put a lot of work into this. He even called me for ideas.” Rachel and I giggled in unison.
“I wouldn’t say excited, but I appreciate what your dad is trying to do for me. It’s adorable.”
The fact that Marco enjoyed planning my party was comical but sweet. Party planning was not his thing; he preferred to be the attendee, even for the parties we hosted. It was how our roles developed: I took care of domestic and family duties while he worked to afford our comfortable living. It worked. We worked. And now he took it upon himself to plan my birthday party. My mind was blown.
“It’s sweet, and I told Jake I’m going to expect the same when I turn thirty. He laughed at me and said, ‘Yeah right, I’ll just ask your mom to plan it.’ Can you believe that?”
“Don’t worry, you know I’ll help your husband in his time of need.”
“I know, and no worries on your end, either. Dad has this party covered.”
“Don’t I know it. Yesterday a cleaning service was at the house for five hours. It was wonderful. Then today an event planner is coming at one, and caterers at four. It boggles my mind that he wants to spend so much money for a stupid old birthday.” I sighed, releasing the building tension in me. “I mean, we could have taken a trip instead.”
“You can take a trip anytime, but a party only comes along every fifty years. I’m all for having another one when you turn a hundred.”
“Oh geez, let’s not talk about that.”
From there on out the call meandered, as it often did. There was the talk of Jake wanting a baby which Rachel wasn’t ready for. She complained that they’d only been married a year this last February. All she wanted was two more years before starting a family. I understood her wanting to wait, and supported her wholeheartedly. However, a baby would give me something to do. I could babysit. I would love it if she had a baby, but I didn’t dare mention it. My sweet Rachel needed to live her own life and decide on these monumental decisions with her husband. This is where I needed to know my place and just listen.
**********
Marco truly outdid himself. The event planner artistically painted a mural of coral and lime, my favorite colors, setting a cantina vibe. The food buffet displayed all of my favorite dishes: arroz con pollo, fish tacos, and carne asada with all the trimmings. The authentic Mexican fare was supplied by our beloved local Mexican restaurant. As I mingled, talking to friends and family, I plastered a fake smile on my face. I missed my boys…out living their lives. I know they couldn’t help it. Lucas traipsing through Europe and Nathan in New York City for a summer internship. I understood, but it still hurt.
“How’s my beautiful wife?” Marco asked, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling his head against mine. I instantly felt better. “Are you having a good time?”
“I am, everything is perfect.” I smiled into his happy eyes. “ You amaze me.”
“I amazed myself.” He chuckled. “Are you ready to open your gift?”
“You didn’t have to buy me a gift. The party was enough.”
“Nope, I bought a gift. Let me give it to you with everyone here.” Marco turned around and faced the room. “Amigos.” He clapped. “I’d like to have everyone’s attention!” His voice filled our great room as he pulled me close. “I want to thank all of you for celebrating this magnificent woman with me. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for bringing her into this world and into my life.” I felt my cheeks warm as my charismatic husband gushed over me. “I have a gift I’d like to present to my love with all of you present.”
At that moment, Rachel walked out of the kitchen holding a square box. At first I thought, he couldn’t have bought me a hat, could he? The grin on Rachel’s face told me she knew exactly what was inside. For the life of me, I don’t understand why my heart was racing or why my eyes were filling with tears. Hormones?
“Happy Birthday, my love,” Marco said, drawing me out of my trance. He held the box as I fumbled lifting the lid.
I stared inside, stupefied as tears rolled down my face. Watercolors, sketchbooks, Sennelier pastels, a charcoal set, and brushes filled the box. I couldn’t breathe. With dozens of eyes on me, my husband and daughter grinning wide, all I could do was cry.
“Marco…” I choked out in a whisper.
“One more thing,” he said presenting a manilla envelope, his own eyes exhibiting a glossy sheen. I shook my head in utter disbelief as I removed travel documents.
“Prague? Marco… I… I…” No words formed in my head or on my tongue as I stared at the creative workshop schedule.
“There was a time in your life all you would do was draw and paint. You were the most alive when you created. I think it’s time you re-discovered your love of art… in Prague.” He smiled. “With Rachel.” My head whipped around to see my sweet Rachel sobbing in her husband’s arms. “And you’ll get to meet up with Lucas while you’re there. Oh, and I plan to join you after your retreat so we can have a second honeymoon.”
“Marco…really?” Overwhelmed, I lost it, covering my face as I bawled in front of our guests. “But, I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Marco laughed out loud, and a slew of Spanish words flowed melodically. All I could understand was “chica loca” (crazy girl).
**********
That night, I laid wrapped in Marco’s arms panting so hard you’d think I just ran a marathon. From couch to 10k with no prior training, crossing the finish line first over the thousands of participants. In all these years I can’t recall the last time I orgasmed more than twice, let alone five times. I think it was in college. I’d run that marathon every day to feel this victorious—like I could conquer Mt. Everest.
“What was that?” I asked. The endorphins coursing through my body begged for one more delicious climax. By the looks of Marco, he already climbed to the top of that epic mountain, matching Hercules in strength and endurance. If he had one more round in him, the stars were miraculously aligned and I’m getting my butt out to the nearest 7-Eleven to buy my winning lottery ticket.
“Really Denise, you don’t know?” Marco teased, exaggerating his Spanish accent. “We used to be like this. Slow and sweet, connecting on an emotional level, then BAM! Hot and heavy, desperate and hungry for hours. Damn baby, I missed this.”
I looked up at him. His tan skin glistened with a post-coital sheen, his heart pounding to the beat of a Samba beneath me. His hands continued to roam my aroused body. I tried to recall the last time we had sensual, erotic sex, but couldn’t.
“You missed this? Then why didn’t you say something or try something?” Marco’s crooked smirk and tense gaze drilled into my soul—his black eyes an abyss that once enveloped me during lovemaking. Where had they been?
“Mi Amor… my love, it wasn’t for lack of attempts, but a lack of a participant. You’ve been spinning plates since Nathan was born and when Lucas arrived, you crashed out every night as soon as the kids were in bed. Just last week I tried to get you interested, but you were snoring by the time I got to second base. Why do you think I take advantage of our early mornings?”
“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. And I don’t snore, thank you very much, but it didn’t seem like the time to argue the fact.
“You don’t actually think I want to be up at five-thirty, do you? I don’t have to be in the office until eight, but you’re ready to hit the day running by seven. It was my only opportunity to get some loving.”
“Marco! That can’t be true. I thought you only liked it in the morning?”
He roared laughing. “Sweet Jesus, no. In the morning I’m lucky if I can get more than mission style. I like variety, baby, and I know you do too. Tonight was an amazing reminder that you still got it. And you didn’t try to be quiet… that’s a huge turn on.”
At that moment, looking at my sexy, mature husband of fifty-two, I wanted to cry. How did I become so consumed with my kids and being a good wife that I forgot to be my husband’s lover? “Marco, I’m so sorry. The last twenty-five years are a blur, and now I’m fifty. I’m old.”
“No you aren’t. You’re just hitting your prime. You proved that tonight.”
“Stop teasing me. I didn’t balance the kids and you very well. Now they’re gone.”
“But I’m still here. How about making up for the last two decades?”
“Wow, two decades… that sounds pathetic. I’m lucky you didn’t have a mistress on the side.” I stopped when my heart rate increased. “You didn’t have a mistress on the side, did you?” The panic in my voice jolted him. A whole ream of Spanish words flowed out of his mouth at rapid fire. I could only understand, “Girl you’re crazy. I’m not stupid.”
“I’ve always been faithful, and I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for our family and for me.”
Tears rolled down my face. I didn’t doubt Marco. I knew how much he loved me and that’s why I feel like I’ve neglected him. “I don’t deserve you.”
**********
Two months after turning fifty, the warmth of the sun guided the strokes of my charcoal in a fluid dance of love and creativity as I sketched Kranner’s Fountain. I was humbled. Since my birthday, I’ve slept in every day, waking to Marco’s sweet goodbye kisses before he leaves for work. And with Lucas gone on his grand adventure, Marco and I have had a glorious time in our own escapades. We had trekked through a desert, devoid of intimacy. But at will, we finally replenished the starved, thirsty land, embracing our empty nest.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered the sensual side my husband kept locked away while being a father and provider. But he never once guilted me in the bedroom. I may be fifty now, but Marco has made me feel twenty years younger these last two months. I feel like a new woman…a vibrant, desired woman.
Every day I create something new. A watercolor of the azaleas in my backyard. Caribbean flamingos in pastels at the zoo. A silhouette of Marco’s handsome profile.
I have a purpose again…passion. Not just for art or my husband, but for myself. How my wonderful husband knew what I needed on that exact day—a day most celebrate with tacky jokes and black balloons—spoke volumes of his understanding and love for me. Fifty wasn’t the end of my life. I didn’t shrivel up into a brittle brown leaf. I merely entered the next chapter of my life, and the beginning of it has been so much more than I could have ever imagined.
The One That Matters: How It All Got Started
The Challenge
“I challenge you,” my husband said one afternoon last July. Challenge? He continued. “…To write a book in six weeks.” Mind you, I only started writing that January for the first time ever in my life. This challenge would be my third manuscript, but anytime I’m challenged, a fire of determination ignites me. I accepted his challenge, adamant that I would succeed. Moments after accepting his dare I opened a new document, set my header with the date “7/8/17,” and proceeded to stare at the screen.
What do I write? I thought. Prior to this day (weeks before, actually) I was daydreaming about a divorced mom and her girlfriends in a club one afternoon. The friends were laughing and gabbing about men while the divorced friend sat silent, showing no interest in the topic. And then she was asked to dance. Through the encouragement and firm nudging from her friends, she danced with the handsome gentleman. And that’s when I thought: there’s a story here.
The topic of divorce had permeated my life over the last several years. As I supported close friends, it marred me in the process. There is no way to escape the emotional heartache of an ending marriage and the sobbing tears of someone you love. It will change you. It will haunt your dreams. But eventually, the scars fade, the tears dry, and a future filled with hope and love is revealed.
“Vivir Mi Vida”
When I begin a new story there are three things I do: name my heroine, find her face in Google images, and select a song that reflects her and the tone of her story. I found Marie’s story in the song, “Vivir Mi Vida” which translates as, “Live My Life.” Living life was Marie’s nemesis. Two years had passed since her divorce, freeing herself from her verbally abusive husband, and yet she hid within the walls of the fortress she erected around herself. Marie feared being hurt and rejected again. The impact of her ex-husband’s infidelity and poisonous words even after her divorce left her believing no one would ever want her or love her. So Marie stopped living her life. She hurt herself and her relationship with her son. They both were just going through the motions, devoid of laughter and dancing and joy, ultimately stuck in a suffocating fortress, keeping them from moving forward.
“Vivir Mi Vida” is something we all do each and every day…we live our life…whether good or bad, with or without love, or recovering from a stormy divorce that leaves you insecure and filled with fear, like Marie. The song says: You only live once. It took Marie’s three closest friends to coax her out of her fortress, as only they could do, and is she ever glad they did!
My Muses
Music, along with my muse, Marie, filled my life with purpose and meaning while I typed away at my computer bringing The One That Matters to life. I created this playlist that motivated and carried me through to the completion of my manuscript. Most are Latin songs, and rightly so, since Marie and I are both Latina. The rhythm of the drums, bongos, horns, and lyrics guided me through the story like a beacon in the black of night as I floated and bobbed over waves, gaining strength and skill as I moved towards the shore–my destination of completion. Each song was selected specifically for a scene or a mood, and you will find their essence throughout the book. It’s glorious!
The women who have walked through the hell that is divorce are the strongest women I know. Even at their lowest moments, full of insecurity about the future, they get up each day and do what needs to be done. They are selfless, loving women who have cried far too many tears from the exhaustion and grief they endured along the painful road they traveled. I have lived their struggles with them–cried with them, and encouraged them. Their agonizing pain constantly threatened to hold them back, keeping them from their daily battle to move forward. They are beautiful and amazing and my ultimate muse for The One That Matters.
The One That Matters began as a challenge that I won in more ways than one after completing the manuscript in only thirty-nine days. This is my debut novel…the first of many. What a ride I never imagined to be on! I invite you to join me!
~Elle Linder
My Call | A Poem
My call of love to you,
A touch of my hands, my lips, my heart.
Loving you tenderly.
You desired.
My call of emotion to you,
A heart that feels deep, wide.
Loving you wholly.
You needed.
My call of anger to you,
A mind reeling, numb.
I question you.
You lied.
My call of sadness to you,
A heart confused, lost.
I question myself.
You cheated.
My call of perseverance to me,
Stand up, move forward.
Believe in me.
Love me.
Plus One | A Short Story
86th Annual Writer’s Digest Writing Competition: Genre Short Story – Honorable Mention
It was a beautiful, crisp October morning as Tori drove down Main Street to her bridal boutique, A Perfect Beginning. She adored fall, with its vibrant reds and yellows adorning the maple and sweetgum trees that lined the street. Exiting her Volvo, she inhaled the cool autumn air. Mmm. She unlocked the gold-framed double doors with etched glass insets, walked in and flipped the light switch. Elegant crystal chandeliers anchored the space above her — magnificent and romantic. She smiled as her eyes moved over the room, catching glimpses of sparkling rhinestones, mirrors, and marble floors that danced with one another to the beat of the brilliant rays of light.
She stood in awe at the glorious white gowns embellished with Swarovski crystals, pearls, and lace that lined the walls. It didn’t matter the style of wedding dress: sheath, A-line, ball gown, or trumpet. Or if it had a sweetheart neckline, cap sleeves, halter, or was off-the-shoulders; she loved them all. Fabric? Didn’t matter. Chiffon, tulle, satin, lace, organza, silk … They all made her swoon. Her grandest moment was when her bride was dressed in the most breathtaking gown — a princess on her wedding day. Another job well done.
“Good morning, Tori!” Lacy greeted as she passed through the double doors.
“It is a good morning! A perfect fall morning as we prepare for another busy wedding weekend,” Tori grinned. “Joyce is bringing pumpkin spice lattes for all of us! God, I adore this time of year!”
“Me too! You shine brightest in the fall,” Lacy smiled, pushing a clothing rack filled with men’s tuxedos and suits.
Tori prepared for the day’s appointments, pulling six teal files. Joyce arrived then with the coffee. “It’s going to be a very busy Thursday, with six wedding parties in the books for pick-ups,” Tori announced to her crew. “Also, Amanda is out with the flu today, so I’ll help Josh with the tuxes. Now let’s hit it hard, and stay on top of our emotions. I’ve got a bottle of Pinot in the back … for after the doors are locked,” she winked.
The day breezed by uneventfully to Tori’s delight. All the tuxedos fit each groom, groomsman, ring bearer, and father perfectly. Her crew never ceased to amaze her with their accuracy in measuring the client.
Tori was a young boutique owner at twenty-eight, and very successful in the small tourist town along the central coast of California. From the time she was a young girl, weddings and brides had been her passion. As much as she loved romance novels, romcoms, love songs, and decorating a bride for her special day, she had yet to meet her own Prince Charming. After accepting the fairytale was meant for others, she poured herself into making her boutique a success — and it was.
Seated in her office, it was about five with one hour ’til closing. The last group of men would be arriving any minute, so she gathered up the last of her energy to provide her customers exceptional service.
“Tori, the Bradford-Scott wedding party has arrived. They’re in area two,” Joyce announced. “Josh is with them. Lots of hot men in that party, wowzers!” Joyce fanned herself. Tori rolled her eyes as she exited her office.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Tori greeted, her gorgeous smile framed with the perfect shade of mauve lipstick. Her dark brown eyes shined, and her professionally cut bob hairstyle framed her heart-shaped face.
She scanned the group of attractive men. Wow, Joyce wasn’t exaggerating this time! She actually felt her cheeks flush as her eyes met Josh’s, who gave her a little wink. He’d already met with all of them for measurements months ago. Unfortunately for him, they were all straight. He’d only get to look — not touch. His frown and scrunch of his nose told Tori as much.
“Tori, this is Elliot, the groom. We’re waiting on his best man, Brice.”
Tori smiled, “Nice to meet you, Elliot. Let’s get started. We’ll deal with Brice when he arrives,” she directed.
It didn’t take long for Tori and Josh to get everyone taken care of and on their way. Josh was wrapping up with the last groomsman when an attractive dark-haired man with a golden tan walked through the doors. Joyce was on her feet with gusto to greet him up close and personal. Tori rolled her eyes. That Joyce. The boutique was closing in fifteen minutes, and she was sure he was the best man, Brice. She grabbed the last tux hanging on the clothing rack and approached him.
“Brice?” she asked. His dark eyes connected with hers and she caught her breath. He nodded, holding her gaze, and flashed her a broad, charming smile. Unsure of the disturbance in her stomach, she forced a smile in return. Butterflies?
“Yes, sorry I’m late … work,” he shrugged. He surveyed the boutique and noticed it was empty, save for the last groomsman.
Tori stared at him. Boy is he gorgeous. Her expert eye and four-inch heels measured him at about six foot standing before her 5’9” thin frame. He was perfect. The butterflies danced in her stomach as she observed him. She could easily become lost in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Stop it, he’s a groomsman, she scolded herself.
She handed him the garment bag. “If you could try this on in room four that would be great,” she directed.
“What if I need help?” he asked with a flirtatious grin.
“Um … we’ll be happy to assist you,” she nervously answered. He nodded, walking over to room four. “One more thing. Please come out in the tux so I can look you over.” She felt her cheeks grow warm the moment the words “look you over” left her lips.
He grinned, drinking in her alluring beauty. Her silky black hair and dark, piercing eyes against her ivory skin turned his brain to mush. Nonetheless, his eyes roamed over her, enjoying the curve of her calves, accentuated by her black patent leather heels and her v-neck blouse that revealed a little cleavage. He smiled, unable to stop himself.
“Sure,” he winked, closing the door behind him. Tori spun around finding Joyce, Lacy, and Josh staring at her. She took a deep breath, wiggling her body as she exhaled and approached them.
“Let’s get everything in order for closing,” she deflected as if she hadn’t just melted into a puddle of hot desire right before them. Stunned, not one of them moved. She arched her brow and batted her long lashes. “Hello … we’re closing in five, people. Get moving.” She clapped her hands to motivate her shocked employees. “Josh, I’ll have you finish up with the customer.” She handed him the file and headed to her office. Her racing heart and sweaty palms were a strong indication that she better get out of dodge before she embarrassed herself.
“Wait, what?! You want me to finish up with the hottie?” Josh questioned. “Why? He’s into you Tori. Ya gotta go for it!”
“I don’t have time for this, Josh,” she said exasperated. The door to room four opened and Brice stepped out in his tux, looking suave and oozing testosterone. Tori’s jaw hit the ground, awakening the fluttery guests in her stomach and sending an electric surge through her body. Brice met her eyes, jolting her out of her dreamy state. She whipped around in a panic and bolted for her office. Rapidly retreating, she firmly whispered, “Go help him, Josh!”
Once in the comfort and sanctity of her office, she leaned against her desk, trying to gain control of her breathing. “What the hell was that? What am I doing? I’m a frickin’ professional!” She paced the floor talking to herself. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some groomsman who’s looking for a one night stand get me all bent out of shape in my own boutique!” She took another cleansing breath and exhaled.
“Um, Tori,” Josh began. She turned with a blank expression. “Brice said you needed to look him over,” Josh smirked, having heard her conversation with herself.
Her mouth parted in disbelief. “Nuh-uh, you handle it. I’m certain his tux fits perfectly.” She sat in her executive chair and gently rocked. Josh grimaced as he turned to leave. She wasn’t moving from her chair until the doors were locked. Then she would open the bottle of Pinot staring at her from across the room. Boy, was she glad it was the end of the day.
It had been the longest fifteen minutes of her life as she waited for the “all clear.” She already had the wine open, letting it breath in her glass. Her nerves were doing quite the number on her. No man had ever stirred such a strong, fluttery response in her stomach — made her hands sweat, her heart race, and her body quake. I obviously need to get laid, she thought. It was the only logical explanation she could conjure up. She bit her lip. But those lips, those eyes, that body … oh Jesus!
“All clear,” Josh announced, peeking his head into her office. She lifted her glass towards him in a ‘cheers’ and took a long-awaited drink to calm her nerves. She walked out of her office to look over the boutique, glass in hand. “Aren’t you going to ask me what he said?”
“Nope.” She moved from area to area, making sure everything was in perfect condition with Josh in tow. Joyce and Lacy met up with them, following like lost puppies.
“But he asked about you.”
She froze and slowly turned around to face him with an expectant look and an arch of her expertly shaped brow that said, ‘you better not have said a damn thing about me.’
“He asked your name.” She rolled her eyes and turned around to continue her walk- through. “And if you were single.” She froze. Wincing, she took a drink of her wine. “And for your business card, your work schedule, your favorite flowers, your blood type, and shoe size.” She whipped around with her brow furrowed. “Okay, not the blood type or shoe size,” he snorted.
“Jesus, Josh! What did you tell him?!” Lacy and Joyce were silently bewitched by the conversation.
“I told him your name was Tori, the owner of the boutique. I gave him your card and that you’re here during store hours. And … that you like pink peonies, but he wouldn’t be able to find them this time of year. So, red mums were the next best thing … with a pumpkin spice latte.” Her shoulders rolled forward as her mouth fell open. “I don’t know what you’re so worked up about. Do you actually want to be single for the rest of your life?” he teased. “If so, you really should’ve told us.”
“He’s a groomsman — the best man! He’s looking for a one night stand for Christ’s sake! I’m not that kind of woman, nor do I need to be told by my employees how to live my life!” she shot back. She swiftly finished off her wine and retreated to her office, collecting her handbag. Everyone followed behind her.
“I’m sorry Tori, but I think he really likes you. Know what? I’m not sorry!” he smugly said. Her glare was so intense she could have burned a hole right through him.
“You’re so lucky you’re my cousin!!” She flung open the door, turned the lights off, and locked the door behind her.
**********
Friday morning was like any other morning — same routine, same drive, except without the blissful euphoria she was accustomed to. She’d had such a restless night’s sleep with Brice on her mind that she didn’t notice the Black Range Rover parked across the street.
Brice had only been waiting a few minutes when he saw her silver Volvo pull in. She was wearing a charcoal grey pencil skirt with navy high heels and a rust-colored peacoat. Her silky black hair blew off her face as she quickly walked to the doors. Damn she’s gorgeous … those legs, he thought. When Brice left the boutique the night before, he was disappointed she avoided him. At thirty-four, he wasn’t looking to screw around. He needed more. His construction company was stable and drawing a nice annual profit, and he wanted to settle down — have a family. There hadn’t been anyone who’d affected him the way Tori did, making his stomach do flips like an acrobat in a Cirque du Soleil show. He needed to know her.
Tori was standing at Joyce’s desk when the door opened, and Brice walked in carrying a pot of red mums and a cup from Starbucks. Her eyes met his, and she swallowed hard as he walked towards her confidently. She was stunned silent.
“Good morning … Tori,” he smiled. “I hear mums and pumpkin spice lattes are favorites of yours? My guess is you love fall?” He placed the pot of mums on the desk and handed her the cup, holding her gaze. Her fingers brushed lightly against his hand as she took the cup from him, familiar flutters stirred within her.
She bit the bottom corner her lip nervously, and Brice could feel his pulse increase. “This is nice but really … you shouldn’t have.” She blushed.
“Of course I didn’t have to, I wanted too. This might be a bit forward of me … would you like to go to my cousin’s wedding … be my plus one?” The normally confident, masculine man was sweating bullets around her. He watched as her eyes danced around the room, rigidly pondering her answer. With each second that passed, he grew more insecure and worried that she would decline. “Tori …”
“Brice, I’m sorry, I can’t. The flowers and coffee are nice, but I’m not interested,” she said decidedly. He could see the rise and fall of her chest. She was holding back, but why?
His eyes locked on hers, he pushed further, “Are you worried about something? I’m not an ax-murderer,” he teased. Her eyes widened. “Is that it? You think I’m some creep? I can assure you I’m not.” His eyes softened, warming her core.
She swept the left side of her hair behind her ear and looked at her watch, as if she was waiting for something — her employees. Where the hell are they? “Brice, I’m very busy running my business. I don’t have time for …” she shook her head and shrugged.
“I understand the demands of running a business. I have my own construction company. But you have to eat dinner. You close at four on Saturdays, and you’re closed on Sundays,” he reasoned. “Balancing a personal life was always a challenge for me, too. I get it,” he smiled.
God, that smile. Just break out the mop and bucket to clean-up the puddle I just melted into. “Brice, we don’t know each other.”
“That’s why people go out for coffee, dinner … to a wedding. Take a chance, Tori. We’ll have a great time.”
Joyce and Lacy walked through the doors then, to her relief. The surprised expressions on their faces was more than obvious.
“Morning girls,” Tori greeted. “Brice,” her voice lowered as the two curious, smirking girls passed them. “I just can’t.” He nodded acceptingly, but the disappointment in his eyes couldn’t be missed.
“Here’s my business card if you change your mind. I hope you change your mind.” He walked out the doors nearly running into Josh. “I’m sorry. I almost knocked you over.”
“Brice! Was there a problem with your tux?” Josh inquired.
“No. The tux is perfect … yeah.”
“Hmm … don’t take it personally,” he knowingly said. “She’s a tough one. She thinks every guy is only after one thing,” he winked. “She has a history of guys just wanting one night with her. When she doesn’t put out, she never hears from them again. Don’t take it personally; it’s the male species that screwed up your chances.” Josh explained.
“Great, condemned by association,” he groused.
Josh felt bad for Brice. His gut was screaming, ‘he’s the real deal!’ And Tori was about to pass him by like last season’s styles. “Man, I feel for you. She’s my cousin, so I know how stubborn and unrelenting she can be. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“I’d appreciate that. I don’t know what it is about her, but I just want know her better.” He pulled out his business card and wrote down the location and time of the ceremony and reception, then handed it to Josh. “In case she changes her mind,” he shrugged.
Fridays were always hellacious, grueling days if there were five or more weddings over the weekend. Someone always forgot something. A bridesmaid’s dress was suddenly too big or small, but never because they lost or gained weight — always the fault of the person who measured them. This Friday was no exception, and Tori was off her game. Josh knew to wait before mentioning his conversation with Brice, guessing her mind was consumed with him. She just wasn’t her normal, bubbly, energetic self — a few steps behind on everything.
“Tori,” Joyce said, peeking her head into her office. “You have a call on line three.” Tori looked at her expectantly. “Um, Misty Bradford.” Tori picked up the receiver.
“Hi Misty, what can I do for you?”
“Hi Tori … Oh gosh, I am so nervous about this.”
“Your wedding? You look amazing in your dress … stunning,” Tori assured.
“No no, that’s not why I’m calling. I absolutely love my dress. You’re amazing.”
“Oh, then why are you calling?”
“You met my cousin Brice yesterday, right?” Misty cautiously asked. Tori sat silent, her heart felt like it would jump right out of her chest. “Tori? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I did meet Brice yesterday, but I don’t understand why you’re calling?”
“Well, he mentioned asking you to be his ‘plus one’ and you turned him down. I wanted to call and reassure you that he’s a great guy, truly. I’d love for you to attend. You and your staff have gone above and beyond for my wedding and well … he’s a really great guy.”
“You’re sweet to vouch for your cousin. I just …”
“Look, no pressure. I just wanted to reassure you that Brice would only treat you with the utmost respect. I hope you decide to come and give him a chance. I gotta go … wedding stuff,” she said with a smile in her voice.
“Thanks, Misty. Congratulations.”
**********
Saturday morning Tori laid in bed thinking about Brice. What if he is the real deal? He’s certainly attractive. Oh, and the mums and a pumpkin spice latte, she gushed. Do I really want to be alone forever? How do I meet anyone if I don’t go out on dates? She reasoned there’d be hundreds of people, and she really liked the bride Misty, who happened to be Brice’s cousin. If she drove herself and didn’t allow herself to drink too much, she’d be in control. She definitely wouldn’t go home with him, nor would she take him home. Take a chance, she told herself.
Tori jumped out of bed and ran to her walk-in closet. She pulled out an olive green floor-length spaghetti strap dress and her black patent leather heels. If I go … I’ll wear this, she thought.
The ceremony was at five, and there was no way Tori was attending such an intimate and personal exchange. Additionally, she didn’t want to allude to her staff she was considering the reception. After the boutique closed, she went home to shower and fix herself up. Her nerves were on overdrive and “what ifs” flooded her mind. She plopped down on her bed with her hair perfectly styled, her makeup on point, and her designer perfume filling the air. As she stared at her dress hanging atop the door, her phone rang. “Hey Josh, what’s up?”
“Are you going?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Joyce told me Misty Bradford called — Brice’s cousin. Are you going?”
“Josh …”
“Go. He’s a good guy, Tori. I feel it in my gut. Go!”
“I want to believe he’s a good guy. Lord knows he makes my knees weak and my palms sweaty,” she admitted.
“That’s why you have to go and wear the olive green dress!”
“Damn, it’s creepy you know me as well as you do! If he tries anything or doesn’t call for a second date, I may give up men altogether!” she assured him.
“Nah. You need a man, like I need a man,” he chuckled.
“Point taken. Thanks.”
Tori walked into the reception hall at eight, looking stunning as always; she knew her fashion. For two hours she fought her fears before convincing herself to go. From across the dance floor, she spotted Misty and Elliot. They were a handsome couple, and Misty looked like a princess in her wedding dress. Tori confidently walked towards the couple as her eyes scanned the room for Brice, but she didn’t see him.
“Tori, you came!” Misty beamed.
“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Scott. Everything is breathtaking,” she smiled. She noticed Misty’s eyes brighten and she could feel the warmth behind her.
“You came,” Brice whispered in his low, sexy voice.
She turned to face him and smiled. He took her hand leading her out on the dance floor; “It Had To Be You” was playing, The Harry Connick Jr. version … Tori’s favorite. She could feel her pulse increase as Brice pulled her close, resting his hand on her lower back. She was being swept away and it terrified her. He could see she was uneasy.
“You look stunning. It’s not fair to the bride to outdo her.” His gaze warmed her.
“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself,” she blushed. “I want to tell you …”
“Wait,” he interrupted her. “I have expectations that are deal-breakers for me.”
She furrowed her brow. Great, here it comes. Her body stiffened, preparing herself for his “expectations.”
“I have an expectation that many women don’t agree with.” She arched her perfect brow, nervously biting the corner of her bottom lip as she held her breath. He felt her body tense. “I don’t do one night stands. I mean, you’re sexy and I’m very attracted to you, but I’m not going home with you tonight nor am I bringing you home with me.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
“No seriously. Don’t try to seduce me, or I’ll have to turn you down,” he playfully said. “Honestly though, I just really want to get to know you better,” he reassured her. “See, I have a ten date minimum typically, but I think for you it’s going up … thirty date minimum,” he winked with his sexy grin.
“Brice … ”
“No no, don’t try to talk me out of it,” he teased. “I’m not budging. Give me thirty dates to win your heart?” She was speechless. He could feel all the tension leave her body when he pulled her closer. Her eyes shined brightly, filling him with hope.
“Yes …” He brought her hand up to his lips and tenderly kissed the top, then her palm, causing her to inhale deeply. “Josh told you.”
“He did, but I’ve never been a one night stand kinda guy. I’m not afraid of commitment, Tori. I’ve just never found anyone I wanted to commit to.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.
“I like the sound of that, and I want to give you a chance … thirty dates,” she smiled. He leaned in, placing a kiss just below her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
Holding her close he whispered, “I’m so glad you came.”
My Hopes and Passions
My hope and passion is to connect with women through relevant stories that resonate with their own lives, or with someone close to them. I hope to empower women to take control of their life and desires, rather than be controlled by others. I long for women to experience true love — to know that support, tenderness, desire, commitment, and faithfulness. I want them to know when they don’t have that love, and that they shouldn’t settle. They can demand better, either by putting in the work to achieve more, or by letting it go and walking away.
These are my hopes. This is my passion. This is what I strive to accomplish with my writing.
~Elle
