Feels Like Love: Feels Like Romance, #3

By Roberta Ann Roque

Novella #3 in the Feels LIke Romance series

When friendship just isn't enough anymore...

Laila is curvy woman who can't see the beauty in her body.  She longs to find love but accepting herself enough to let someone in is no easy task.  She has happiness in front of her, and yet her dissatisfaction with herself makes it hard to reach out and take it.

Mark has been in love with Laila since they first met and became friends.  But he's been waiting a long time for her to love him back - and he's tired of it.  So, he decides to "break up from being friends".  He tries to get her out of his head, but love is a hard habit to change.

Please note: This is a short, contemporary romance, stand-alone novella for adults 18 and over.  In this novella, just like in life, sometimes things get a little hot and steamy, if you don't like that, then you might want to try a different story.  And don’t worry, we hate cliffhangers as much as you do - this novella is guaranteed to come to a satisfying HEA conclusion.

approximately 29 000 words

80+ pages

 

An Excerpt from Feels Like Love

 

“Laila, I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

“Okay?  Why wouldn’t I be okay?  You’re okay, aren’t you?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Exactly.  I’m as okay as you.  Okay?” I giggled again.  Good thing I was drunk, or this conversation would be awful.  I was pretty sure it was going to be awful tomorrow when I remembered it.

“She’s a runner.  I met her in a running group.  I’m just trying to get you out of my head, all right?  I’m just trying to get both of us out of this mess.  If I don’t care anymore, then it will all be over.  No more mess.”

He ducked his head, looking at the floor.  I stared at him, and suddenly something clicked in my head.  And because I’m a mouthy drunk, the words spit right out.

“I’m jealous,” I whispered.

His head came up, and his eyes were wide.

“What did you say?”

But I knew he had heard.  Oops.

“I said your girlfriend’s very pretty.  So tall and blonde and thin.”  I plastered a fake smile on my face.

“Laila, it’s not about her looks.”

“How could it not be about her looks when she looks like that,” I said, and I could not help the tiny bitter, desperate note that crept into my voice.  He heard it, and he studied me as if I were a puzzle he couldn’t quite comprehend.

“You think that I chose her to go out with because she looks different from you,” he said, and he honestly looked like the idea had never occurred to him — that he was just figuring it out now.  “But why would you think that?  You must think that I would prefer someone who looks like her?”

“Of course.  Who wouldn’t?  She’s pretty.”

“And you’re not,” he said as if he were trying to understand me but failing.

“Let’s be real here, Mark.  I’m big.  I’ve got lots to love and all that crap.  Shake that booty and whatnot.  She’s very slim.  Must be all that running.  It’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.  Everyone wants a skinny chick.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his blue eyes intense.

“I don’t,” he said quietly.  Then he turned and left, forgetting about going to the bathroom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roberta Ann Roque
• Release date: May 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513045665

Book preview

Author's Note

With each of the books in the Feels Like Romance series, I deliberately chose songs to inspire the story.  I picked songs that went with the theme, with what the characters were going through, or that evoked a certain feeling.  When writing certain parts I would sometimes put the song on repeat and listen to it over and over.

This is an inherent part of these books and is integral to the stories.  You will find as you continue through the series that there are many references to songs and music.  It's supposed to be like that.  That's how the series was designed.

If you are a musician or enjoy music - the way I am and do - you'll know that songs evoke emotions in a way that words never can.  So, I've listed them here, if you'd like to surround yourself with these songs as you read or when you come to the part where they are mentioned in the story.

I've linked to the Youtube videos of the songs so that you can listen to them for free.

Enjoy!

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Let Her Go by Passenger

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBumgq5yVrA

That’s Amore by Dean Martin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_cOP8y6sWs

All About That Bass by Megan Trainor

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PCkvCPvDXk

Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyWNUtHXIho

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Happily ever after is alive and well!

Sincerely,

Bobbi (writing as Roberta Ann Roque)

CHAPTER ONE

The End

Laila

Mark walked over to where I was making a salad in my fabulous kitchen and picked a cucumber slice out of the bowl, popping it in his mouth.  He was looking good, as usual, in jeans and a black T-shirt.  His brown hair was cut short, and right now those mischievous blue eyes of his were dancing, knowing he was irritating me.

Don’t, I said, slapping him with the hand that wasn’t holding the knife. 

What? he said, flashing me his brilliant smile.  Or I’ll spoil my supper?

I stuck out my tongue at him.

Do you know how much bacteria is probably on your hands right now?

He looked at his hands doubtfully.

They look clean.  I just washed them when I came into the house.  I know how you are about germs.

Hm.

Well, if that’s the reason you don’t want me picking out of the salad bowl, then at least I can’t call you an old Italian nonna for slapping my fingers like that.  You should be grateful, he said, shrugging. 

Leave my grandmother out of this, I said.

Your nonna loves me, he said.

Yeah, she does.  She’s crazy, I said.

He narrowed his eyes at me and picked another cucumber slice out of the bowl.

Mark.  I frowned at him.

Laila, you know how we’ve been each other’s date for various events in the past? he said, changing the topic as he leaned against the counter.

Yeah?  I lifted the cutting board and scraped the tomatoes into the bowl with the knife.

Well, I have this writer’s convention that I’m speaking at, and there’s a dinner afterwards...

Mark, you know I don’t like going to those kinds of things with you because no one knows that we’re just friends, and...

They’ll think we’re together.  Right.  I know.  Okay.  Forget it.

I sighed.  The light atmosphere was gone, replaced with a suffocating feeling of despair.  Mark had been hoping I would change my mind about being just friends for almost two years now.  But I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t.

It was so complicated.  But I really liked him as a friend.  I mean, really, really liked him as a friend.  It was getting to the point where I didn’t know what I would do without him.  But I couldn’t cross that line.  And he knew it.  If it wasn’t for that, our friendship would be perfect.  Mark saw me as fabulous and probably without faults.  But that just wasn't the real me.  The real me would definitely send him running.  I wouldn't wish myself on anyone - and especially not someone on someone as wonderful as Mark.

You want to go get some cilantro from the sun room? I said.  He nodded and left with a metal bowl and a little knife, looking glad of the chance to escape the stifling tension in the room. 

The sunroom was just off the kitchen on the south side of the house and contained various potted herbs that I used in cooking.  My house was my castle.  I had purchased it when I first started working after college, and I had just paid it off last year.  When I had bought it, it had been your typical suburban house without any style at all.  But that had all changed when the renovations started.  The money that I had been putting into the mortgage, I instead used to redo every part of the house from top to bottom. 

Now it was full of character.  The outside was redone in brick, completely different from the other houses on the block.  I had added a porch along the front and planted some well-established trees.  Inside, I now had the sunken living room of my dreams and wall-to-wall book shelves.  Oh, and I had completely redone the kitchen

My amazing kitchen was a gleaming expanse of marble counters, oak cabinets, and stainless steel appliances.  Cecilia, my friend who is a Red Seal chef, almost cries every time she comes in here.

I love my kitchen.  Growing up, food was so important.  I came from a very Italian family.  (And if you know a very Italian family, you know why you have to use the word very.)  Actually, food wasn’t important — that would be a complete understatement — food was everything.  It was nourishment, sure.  But it was also how you showed love.  It was the glue that stuck the family together.  It was a reason to assemble and visit.  It was a gift.  Sometimes, it could be a burden.

Lately, it had been more of a cross to bear than a joy to me because all this love of food had led me to...  Where you ask?  Being overweight, of course.

Okay, I was fat.  I know, the word makes people flinch.  But I had to tell it like it is — at one time, it wasn’t an insult but an adjective, you know.  I wasn’t obese or anything.  But I had big hips and a big butt and big breasts and rolls.  I know, I know, the politically correct term is love handles, but we all know what they really are.

I suppose my face might be called pretty.  And I had long wavy, chestnut-brown hair, which I considered my only redeeming feature.  Mark complimented me all the time, but I thought he was probably just being kind.  He was a really nice guy.  He wasn’t going to tell me I was gross to my face, no matter what he thought behind closed doors.

I finished the salad — it just needed the cilantro — and set two places at the counter.  Mark came back, handing me the strong-smelling herb that I love, and I chopped it.  He looked better, like he’d got over his disappointment.

We ate in silence mostly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.  Mark and I can be silent together.  My friend, Cecilia, says that’s how you can tell if you’re truly friends with someone.  I don’t know. 

I watched him eating as I popped another delicious bite of baked penne into my mouth.

Is it okay? I said.

Yeah, it’s really good, like always, Laila.  He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, and I wondered what was wrong.

You want some more garlic toast?  I can get us...

No, I’m good.  Thanks.  I have to go soon anyway.

I nodded, trying not to feel disappointed.  I thought we might watch a movie or play cards, like we sometimes did.

After he finished, I walked him to the door.  He put on his spring coat, which looked amazing on him, falling just so and making him look stylish without it seeming like a fashion statement.  It didn’t matter what Mark wore, he always looked fantastic.

He was tall, but not too tall.  Most of the time he had some stubble on his face.  He was lean and strong from all the running and working out he did.  And he dressed really well.

Oh, who am I kidding?  He looks good in sweats and a ripped T-shirt.  He was just one of those gorgeous people that can’t look bad if they try.  But he wasn’t arrogant or big headed because of it.  Not at all.  Like I said, he was a nice guy.  He was well liked.  Everybody wanted to be his friend.  People just wanted to hang around Mark because he was such a great person.

I’ll see you around, he said.  Then he gave me a kiss on the cheek.  It had such a sad, final feeling to it that I had a flash of worry.

Of course.

He looked at me like he was trying to memorize me almost, gave me a tiny smile, then turned and went out the door.

Mark?

He looked back at me, his eyes