Love, Amour, Amore: A Collection of Three Love Stories from Around the World

By Kaya Quinsey

Valentine in Venice

Valentine Wells returns to Venice. After having visited ten years earlier when she was just sixteen years old, it was where she had impulsively met Lorenzo Dipachio. Her first kiss. Her first love.

Now twenty-six, Valentine is a successful wedding photographer in Chicago. Still impulsive, Valentine is recently divorced after being married for about a minute in Las Vegas. And she doesn't miss the irony of being a divorced wedding photographer. Also dealing with her mother's recent diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's, Valentine's father convinces her that she needs a break.

Now that she is back in Venice, Valentine wants to prove to herself that she's no longer the impulsive, daring girl who got married (and quickly divorced) in Vegas to a man she barely knew. Now, she is living by a new set of rules: planned, cautious, and carefully executed.

But her plan is challenged when she falls (literally) into the path of her first love, Lorenzo. And with Valentine's Day around the corner, will Valentine be able to keep herself from making another big mistake?

A Coastal Christmas

Author Kaya Quinsey returns with her trademark blend of romance and adventure, in this page turning story about a love to remember and a Christmas never to forget.

Successful broadcaster Jessica Beaton has it all: the perfect New York City apartment, high-flying career, and handsome boyfriend. And with Christmas around the corner, she has her sights set on one thing. A ring.

But Jessica is humiliated when her co-host and boyfriend, Brett Fanshaw, almost proposes to her on-air before backing out, leaving her dumped and embarrassed on national television. In the midst of her heartbreak, Jessica leaves to go home to Pebble Shores for the holidays for the first time in years.

While retreating at her family's seaside cottage to evaluate her life, Jessica finds herself butting heads with Dean Adams, the mayor of Pebble Shores, who isn't thrilled to have the media spotlight shed on their small town. Jessica couldn't imagine anyone being more of a Grinch.

Over the Christmas season, Jessica finds herself more enamored with life in Pebble Shores, the community spirit, and to her own surprise, Dean Adams. Can a small-town mayor and big-city broadcaster have the romance that Jessica always dreamed of?

Paris Mends Broken Hearts

Gwendoline Delacroix finds herself fleeing Paris in a desperate attempt to escape the memories that haunt her in her French countryside chateau. Following the aftermath of WWII, she had become a widower and desperately missing her husband, Jean. Although her loyal and quirky staff do their best to keep her afloat, Gwendoline eventually takes charge and in a quick turn of events, finds herself at the Hotel de la Belle Paix - the hotel run by her brother and sister-in-law in the Latin Quarter in Paris.

Over the summer, Gwendoline finds work at an animal sanctuary run by an eccentric aristocrat. With new friends, an elderly cat, and a glass of wine in hand, Gwendoline proves to herself and everyone else that there is life after lost love.

Entertaining? Of course! Joyful? Undoubtedly. Champagne? Bien sur! In Paris, nothing is predictable, and everything is extraordinary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books To Go Now
• Release date: Feb 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386321552

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Copyright

Love, Amour, Amore

A Books to Go Now Publication

Copyright © Kaya Quinsey

Cover Design by Romance Novel Covers Now

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For information on the cover illustration and design, contact [e-mail]

First eBook Edition February 2019

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

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VALENTINE IN VENICE

Dedication:

For Ryan – my eternal Valentine.

Excerpt from Valentine in Venice

VALENTINE FELT HERSELF slip on a slick stone, as if it was happening in slow motion. First, clutching her camera to her chest. Second, both feet losing traction with the ground. Third, oh goodness, third... Valentine flung out her arms in an attempt to stop herself from sliding into the canal. But it was too late. At the last moment, she narrowly managed to fling her bag and camera onto the walkway before she plunged into the freezing cold water.

Argh! Valentine cried out as she surfaced, gasping for air. Before she had a moment to register what had happened, she felt two hands on the back of her soaking wet sweater pull her up. She landed in a boat with a wet thud.

Shivering, Valentine gratefully accepted the jacket that was placed around her.

I – I... she fumbled for words. A gentleman spoke to her in Italian, concern in his voice. I don’t speak It-Italian... She looked up at the stranger who had saved her. For a moment her heart stopped. Surely it wasn’t. It absolutely couldn’t be. Lorenzo?

Prologue

VALENTINE WELLS RELUCTANTLY gave Justine her last chocolate. But it was worth it.

Okay, so you’ll make sure that Mrs. Kent won’t notice I’m gone? she asked her friend.

Justine nodded enthusiastically. No problem at all. When she calls your name, Sandra will say ‘present’ as Jill and I make some sort of distraction. It’ll be perfect.

Valentine smiled. This was it. She was going to make a run for it. At least, for the afternoon. More than anything, she wanted to stop off at that nearby gelato shop they passed earlier.

But that wasn’t on the schedule, according to Mrs. Kent.

So Valentine thought up a plan. After all, she was in Venice. Why not make the best of it? Hugging her best friend, Valentine waved goodbye to Justine as she snuck out the first floor window from the Hotel Casa Mia. It was easy, considering that there was no screen and it led to a walkway immediately below. Not exactly robber-proof, Valentine thought. But then again, the windows were stunning.

How are you going to remember which window to sneak back into? Justine had hissed at her.

Easy, Valentine said. She pulled out a bottle of her favorite pink nail polish, marking the windowpane with one swift streak. Now I’ll know, she said with a grin.  

Landing on the paving stones below, Valentine happily walked down the sun-drenched laneway. Her alert, sixteen-year-old eyes scanned for any sign of Mrs. Kent, but the coast appeared to be clear. The sun scorched her already sunburned shoulders as she walked along the old stone walkway. Black gondolas passed along the sea green canal. A few laneways over was the gelato shop–or, as it was called in Venice, the gelateria.

Valentine opened the door, taking in the array of creamy white, pastel pink, pistachio green, lavender, and caramel-colored gelatos. She had read in a guidebook that the best gelato was made by hand. And from the lineup that had queued out of it when she had passed by earlier, Valentine correctly assumed that was the case. It certainly beat the ice cream trucks back home.

Can I help you? a male voice asked in a heavy Italian accent. She looked up to see a boy, maybe her age, behind the counter. Peach-colored gelato stained his white apron. As he peered at her, a smile formed at the corners of her mouth.

Valentine pushed her curly hair behind her ears. She took a seat at a nearby stool, swinging her legs. She took her disposable camera from her purse and took aim.

Click.

Which one is the best? she asked him, putting her camera away.

What was that? the boy asked, gesturing at the camera.

Valentine cocked her head. She shrugged. That is a camera, she said slowly, a wide grin forming on her face. The boy laughed and shook his head.

Her feet paused mid-swing. So which flavor should I get?

The boy paused. For you? he asked, while he appeared to be observing her. She took the time to do the same. He had nice hair. And she liked the way his smile reached his eyes. He seemed kind.

But then again, she had only met him a moment earlier.

For you, pistachio, he said.

Valentine hopped off her stool. Okay. I’ll take one scoop, she said, reaching into her purse for her wallet.

The boy held out a large cone, even by Italian standards, with at least two scoops of bright green pistachio gelato. No charge for you, he said with a sheepish smile. Valentine felt at a loss for words, a rarity for her. Instead she pulled out her camera again, and took aim.

Click.

You want to go for a walk? she asked him suddenly.  

The boy looked taken aback. He looked around. I am working, he fumbled.

Valentine shrugged. Okay, see you around. Thanks for the gelato, she said, eating a big scoop with the small spoon. The perfect antidote to Venice’s mid-summer heat.

Wait. Just give me five minutes.

Chapter One

VALENTINE WAITED WITH the rest of the new arrivals at the edge of Venice. She had marked up tour books with a gold colored pen for months, trying to figure out the best places to explore. Now that she was there, she couldn’t remember the first place on her list. Anywhere would do.

Breathing in that unmistakable salty lagoon air, breathing out all of her reservations. Valentine had visited Venice once before, back when she was only sixteen years old. That was ten years ago. But now that she was back in Venice, she allowed herself to momentarily consider herself home. It was where she had felt the most like herself all of those years ago. Not that she didn’t like Chicago. And maybe it was just the thrill of being away from home for the first time in years, but Valentine suspected it was something more. Something about the mystery of the city, that unmistakable feeling she had while she was there ten years earlier, which she had never been able to replicate anywhere else. Valentine had felt propelled to return to Venice every year. But every year, perhaps it was her work ethic or sense of duty, something always got in the way. And now, at the tender age of twenty-six, she had returned. Wisps of her unruly hair blew in the crisp February wind. With her hands firmly clasped around her professional-grade camera, Valentine snapped another picture.

Click, click, snap, snap.

Already, she had nearly seventy pictures. How many would she have by the end of the week when she would leave? Her camera was her favorite accessory, at times her shield, and the chronicler of various phases of her life. Valentine had hundreds of photo albums back home. Fresh from the water taxis that had taken the crowd from the Marco Polo airport, fellow tourists posed and took pictures, everyone eager to document their adventures. But unlike the others, Valentine was a professional photographer. She knew what angles and light made a picture absolutely perfect. And Venice was any photographer’s absolute Heaven. February was off-season there, so Valentine expected that she wouldn’t have to fight the crowds for the perfect shot of St. Mark’s square.

Her first impression of the city ten years earlier seemed as vivid as it did now. Both times, she had stepped out of the water taxi and known immediately that this was where she was going to have an adventure. Or adventures.

Another world away in Chicago, her business as a wedding photographer had taken off. It was why Valentine had booked her vacation six months in advance. Besides, February was typically a slow month for weddings. There was the occasional Valentine’s Day bride, but those were few and far between. She had bought her plane ticket almost as quickly as the shutter speed of her camera. Valentine knew that it was ironic, her being a divorced wedding photographer. She was just glad that they hadn’t had kids. Unlike most of the couples whose weddings she photographed, her marriage had begun to unravel shortly after she said, I do.

Although it felt like another lifetime ago, Valentine had met Tony— short for Antonio— just one year earlier. It was only a few weeks after they met, before they tied the knot. They had met at a wedding, funnily enough. She was the photographer; he was a charismatic and attractive wedding guest. Her first impression was that he had a genuine smile. After he’d insisted that she dance with him, Valentine fell for him quickly. Their first date? Bungee jumping. She chickened out at the last second, but just being there was a thrill. She learned early on that he was a daredevil. Nothing seemed to faze him. He had gone skydiving over the Grand Canyon. He had gone cage diving with sharks. He always seemed to be wrapped up in some fantastic new plan. He was electric. And two weeks into their whirlwind romance, he had surprised her with a trip. And then at the airport, a proposal.

Valentine enjoyed life in the moment. Sure, her friends may have described her as impulsive. And certainly, she had always been more of a dare than a truth kind of a girl at sleepover parties. But in the heat of that moment, Valentine felt more reckless than ever as she heard herself say Yes. Even though, in the back of her mind, a little voice was screaming, This is a mistake! Still, she had silenced that voice, thrown caution to the wind and ignored the sage advice given by her parents when she had called them to tell them the good news.

Why don’t you wait? There’s no rush, her mother had tried to reason with her.

Marriage is serious business, her father had said.  

But Valentine hadn’t wanted to hear it. All she wanted was to be carefree and happy. And off they had gone to Vegas. It was only on the plane ride home that the thrill began to wear off.

So where are we going to live? Valentine had asked Tony, her new husband.

Dunno, Tony had said, flicking through a magazine. Hey, why don’t we head to India for the year?

Valentine instantly stiffened. "That’s a nice