Must Be Love: A Forbidden Romance

By S.E. Law

Amber’s finally made it into the beauty industry. Working for a cosmetics company gives her the opportunity to test hundreds of new beauty products each year. But when she samples the offerings from Blake Cosmeceuticals, she’s immediately suspicious. Are these serums really the fountain of youth, or is the handsome Dr. Blake selling nothing more than snake oil?

Dr. Aaron Blake works non-stop. He’s created his own line of skin care treatments, complete with celebrity endorsements and on-air appearances. However, what he really wants is a family, and when the sassy Amber confronts him about his products, he knows how to put a lid on the curvy girl for good … by giving her a baby!

Oh baby! The curvy girl and the doctor heat up the pages in this romantic comedy filled with love, laughter, and of course, babies. Amber is dedicated to her career, but what happens after the gorgeous physician presents her with a conundrum? Get ready, because it MUST BE LOVE! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.E. Law Romance Author
• Release date: Nov 3, 2020

Book preview

readers.

1

Amber

I love beauty conventions. I always have.

The first one I ever attended was with my aunt when I was ten. She was a buyer for a beauty store and went to scope out the newest brands. I only accompanied her because she always babysat my sister and me on weekends. My parents worked odd hours sometimes, and although my sister ended up at her friend’s house that weekend, they couldn’t find alternate arrangements for me. The only option was to take me along.

That day was the best day of my life. There were companies offering samples for free. I sat at a table and got my makeup done for the first time. Later, I got to check out this cool tanning lamp. The entire event was incredible and still brings a smile to my face when I think back.

After that, I convinced my aunt to take me to every convention she went to, and those experiences are what made me decide to work in marketing for a beauty company. I’ve been at Merhalle since I graduated college three years ago, and it’s been a blast. I’ve learned so much, and I really appreciate all the industry connections I’ve made.

Did you see that one? my best friend and colleague, Nicole, asks.

I look where she’s pointing, but I don’t see anything special.

What are you talking about? I squint.

She sighs.

The eyeshadow pallet, obviously.

Nicole gestures to the booth on our left. There’s a tray of eyeshadows in glittery colors like gold, silver, and hot pink. Nicole loves big, bold shades, so this booth was practically made for her.

I stick my tongue out at her and smile.

Want to check it out?

She bites her lip, eyeing the display hungrily.

I really shouldn’t. You know I promised to keep myself in check this year.

I roll my eyes and grab her arm.

Come on, it doesn’t hurt to look. It’s just a little eye candy.

We edge a bit closer to the booth, and Nicole practically drools over the eyeshadow. I like makeup, but Nicole loves it. I’ve learned a lot about cosmetics since we became friends in college. Before her, I was an eyeliner, eye shadow, and lipstick kind of girl. Now, I know how to contour and highlight with the best of them. I had a great teacher in Nicole.

While Nicole chats with the reps about their makeup, I take in the rest of the convention. There are hundreds of booths just like this one. I don’t know how we’re going to get through everything today. I wish Nicole and I could come for the full three days of the convention, but our bosses only gave us one day. Maybe next year, we’ll get to stay longer.

Hanging from the ceiling are giant signs letting everyone know what is in which section. We’re in the makeup area, which is the first one when you walk in the main entrance. Straight ahead are lotions, to the right are perfumes, and there are at least fifteen other categories.

Other industry professionals buzz around from booth to booth. It’s like a beehive in here, and I’m glad I get to be a part of it.

Although I’ve attended a few other conventions this year, the National Beauty Convention in New York City is the biggest one in the country. It’s held in a big, glass building on the Hudson River with a view of the sunlight sparkling off the waves. This is the first time I’ve been able to attend, and it’s the most magical place I’ve ever seen.

Someone taps me on the shoulder.

Excuse me, a young man says.

His cheeks are highlighted to perfection. My makeup looks good, but it has never looked this good. The guy could easily be a model.

"Do you know where the Consumption booth is?" he asks.

Maybe he’s a model because Consumption is a fashion magazine that covers all the latest trends in clothes and makeup. Merhalle does a lot of advertising with them. I’ve created entire campaigns specifically for Consumption, in fact.

I point at the big media sign on the ceiling.

I haven’t been over there yet, but it’s probably in that area. They’ll be the biggest booth.

He claps his hands together like he’s about to break out into a cheerleading routine.

Thank you so much. I’m super late. Also, you look fab.

With that, he darts away. I watch his tall frame weave through the crowds towards the Consumption booth. I can practically feel his eager energy even from a distance, and smile again. We are the people who adore being here, and it’s great to meet others of the same stripe.

Three other people ask me for directions before Nicole is done fawning over the eyeshadow pallet she fell in love with.

Are you ready? I ask archly.

Nicole doesn’t even look up from swiping on a shade of electric purple shadow.

Just one sec, she promises while studying herself in the mirror. Oooh, this is amazing.

I smile again and glance around. I wonder why people often ask me for directions. Is it my outfit? I look down at my clothes. I’m dressed no differently than anyone else here. My pencil skirt hugs my wide hips and falls to my knees. My blue, sleeveless top is tucked tastefully into the elastic of my skirt. It helps cover my soft belly and makes me look taller than my five-foot frame. The heels I’m wearing help, too. They make me five-foot-two. It may not seem like much, but the extra inches make all the difference.

I must just have a friendly face that makes people think I’m the one they should ask for directions. Or they assume that a girl who looks like me, much curvier than the average cosmetics person, must be working for the convention center. I choose to believe the former.

Nicole hooks her elbow with mine, startling me.

This place is great.

I laugh.

How much did you buy?

Only two things, I swear! I’m not going crazy this year, remember?

I study the bag she’s holding in her other hand. It definitely holds more than two makeup products, but I won’t call her out on it.

You know, we work for one of the biggest cosmetics companies in the world. You’re kind of a traitor by buying another brand’s stuff.

Nicole shrugs and shoots me an unconcerned smile.

Maybe I’m scoping out the competition.

I mock-frown at her.

We both know that’s not what you’re doing.

Nicole winks at me.

"It could be, though. You never know."

I can’t help but laugh. Nicole is loyal to the Merhalle brand most of the time, but she can’t resist trying out new products. I think that’s why she comes to these conventions with me. She wants to sample everything she possibly can, and she usually ends up buying a paycheck’s worth of products before the end of the day.

Come on, I say. Let’s go see some more booths before you spend all of your money.

Those pallets were only twenty dollars each! she says. "They had them on a special. I couldn’t not buy three."

You said you only bought two.

Didn’t you want to go see the other booths? Why are we standing here chit-chatting? she asks innocently, pretending not to hear.

My friend plows ahead, pulling me along behind her. At five-foot-six in flats, she towers over me. Her long legs give her more speed and distance. It takes me two steps to catch up to her one.

As part of the marketing department at Merhalle, Nicole and I really are at this convention to scope out the competition. We glance at the different booths and make note of how their products are placed and what kind of advertising they’re doing. I would feel bad for spying on all these companies if I didn’t know they were doing the same thing. Sometimes, we marketing people even get together to talk strategies.

Do you see that? Nicole asks.

I look around for a fancy eyeshadow or a new blush that Nicole will just have to have, but we’ve entered perfume land.

See what?

Nicole doesn’t like scented products, so I don’t think there’s anything in this area she would be interested in.

The glass case, she says, pointing at the booth just ahead of us on the right. It’s got a mirrored bottom with lights in it. Damn, that’s a good idea. Why don’t we do that with our scents?

I take a few steps closer to the booth to get a better look. The small, glass bottle is filled with an amber liquid. It looks like it’s glowing from the mirror and the lights. Nicole is right; that’s a genius presentation.

Make note of it. I think that would be a good idea to implement in our displays. Maybe even in stores.

I was thinking the same thing!

We continue to do our work as we wander through the different booths. I end up buying a new perfume that smells like a field of wildflowers. It reminds me of my grandmother, whose backyard always had the same scent. Nicole is drawn in by a few more makeup booths and spends way too much money buying new products. I’m not mad about it, though. I know she’ll be testing them on me, too, so I’ll get to reap the rewards of her splurging.

Soon, we enter the cosmeceuticals section. I figure we’ll both be walking pretty fast here. While our company does cosmeceuticals, neither of us are on the marketing team that handles them. They have their own scouts here checking out the competition and attending panels on new products.

Normally, I like to see a couple panels, but I don’t think I’ll have time today. That’s what sucks about only having one day at a convention like this. I can’t possibly see everything in that amount of time. But when I begged my boss to give me two days, she laughed in my face. This convention is really expensive. I go to a lot of conventions around the country, and the cost for three days at another event ends up the same as the cost for one day here. That includes flights and hotel rooms. It’s a miracle our bosses let us come this year.

Hey, what’s that? Nicole asks. She points to a booth to our left with an unfamiliar sign. Blake Cosmeceuticals? I’ve never heard of them.

I search my brain for the name but come up short. For work, Nicole and I have to stay on top of all these other brands. We’re industry professionals, and we’re members of all the insider groups. It’s rare we come across a company we don’t recognize.

Let’s go check them out, I suggest.

Nicole agrees and starts walking toward the booth.

Heads turn to watch her as she walks. It happens no matter where we go. While I’m short, curvy, and brunette, Nicole is tall, thin, and blonde. Sometimes, I wish I looked like her, but I don’t. And I’ve learned to accept my body the way it is.

The Blake Cosmeceuticals booth has a simple display. There’s a blue tablecloth set over three tables, and their products are set out by use. It’s not flashy, but I guess it gets the job done. I could teach them a thing or two about a setup that might garner more business, but I don’t give my services out for free.

I pick up one of the bottles. It’s a serum for acne. The ingredients seem normal, based on the others I’ve seen.

The next bottle I pick up is a moisturizer. I squirt some onto my hand to test it. It immediately smooths out the cracks in my skin from the cool New York fall weather.

Check this out, Nic. Feel!

I hold up my hand for her, and she runs her fingers over the spot I just moisturized.

Wow, that’s nice. Let me see!

While Nicole moisturizes her hands, I move on to the other sunblocks, moisturizers, and lotions that the company produces. There’s a young woman taking care of a customer on the other side of the booth. She greeted us when we first arrived, but the paying customer definitely takes priority. I get that. I used to earn some extra cash by working at booths for various companies during my undergrad, and I would have done the same thing.

I run my fingers over the different products this company is selling and providing for samples. They have a large range for a company I’ve never heard of. I wonder how long they’ve been in business. They must just work under the radar, selling directly to stores and keeping themselves out of the public eye. I’m not sure why. This company has me quite curious.

I get to the end of the booth where there’s more of a miscellany of products. The label here reads healing and nourishing.

This is exactly what I need. My hand goes to my face. When I was in my teens, I did a lot of tanning.

I grew up in Toms River, New Jersey, which is just across the way from Seaside Heights, where the MTV show Jersey Shore was filmed. That show may have been exaggerated for dramatic purposes, but it wasn’t very far off from the kinds of people I knew when I was a teenager.

All the high schoolers in Toms River went tanning. If you weren’t basically orange during the school year, you were an outcast.

Of course, we couldn’t lie out in the sun like normal people would. Toms River is right on the water. It would’ve been too easy to go to the beach regularly to get a natural tan. Instead, all the teens, me included, would go to tanning salons.

We were a lot like the cast of Jersey Shore, honestly. I had a huge bump in my hair for most of high school. My friends did, too. I’m glad I grew out of that phase before I started getting lip injections and plastic surgery. Most of the girls I knew as a teen look like they’re ninety percent fake now.

I shiver. I love where I grew up, but it totally ruined my skin. My face doesn’t look bad now. I haven’t been in a tanning booth since right before senior prom. What was once dark and wrinkly is now smooth and milky.

But while my skin may look good on the surface, I’m fairly sure there’s cellular damage. I can feel it. I’m not going to age well.

Stop freaking out, Nicole says.

I didn’t realize I was still stroking my face. I’m not freaking out.

She fixes me with a stern look. You are. I can see you freaking out. Your skin is fine.

Nicole and I have had this conversation many times over the years. She claims that because I don’t have any visible damage, I must be fine. Nicole doesn’t understand the countless hours I’ve put into researching what tanning can do to your skin.

I was in a tanning bed at least once a week, sometimes twice a week during the winter. That kind of damage doesn’t just disappear because you want it to.

I’m screwed. I’m going to be one of those old ladies with gross, saggy, broken skin – all because I wanted to fit in as a teenager.

Come on, Amber. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do have some amount of deep damage to your skin. What do you think you’re going to do about it now? There’s no point in freaking out over something you can’t change.

Nicole has a point, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t want my skin to deteriorate as I get older. Maybe there’s something I can still do.

I pick up a plain bottle from the edge of the table. This one doesn’t have the same label as the others. It simply says AJB-9, without a list of ingredients on the label.

I open the lid and sniff it. It has almost a floral scent, but I can’t tell if that’s the serum or the air around us. There are a lot of perfumes and other scented products mingling together.

I start to squeeze a bit of the serum onto my hand when the woman working rushes over to stop me.

No, no, she says. That’s not ready yet. It’s only a prototype. A tester.

Her name tag says Briana, and she looks to be about the same age as Nicole and me.

A tester means I can test it, right?

Briana shakes her head. No, I’m sorry. It’s too early in the testing stage for me to let you use it…

Let her try it, Briana, a deep voice says from behind me.

Briana opens her mouth to protest, but the guy must make a gesture that stops her from saying anything.

I turn around to see who is bossing Briana around, and I come face to face with the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen. My heart races and the air escapes my lungs. Who is this man, and why is he here?

2

AJ

I hate these stupid events.

I’ve been to a few beauty conventions over the years. After all, I sell a lot of products at my dermatology practice. Plus, sometimes I find new products and techniques here that I can implement in the office. Last year, I went to a panel that talked about a new laser treatment for acne that a few of my patients have found helpful.

Still, I hate coming to these conventions. They’re ridiculous.

I take a seat in the back row of a panel. They’re going to talk about a new product for smoothing wrinkles. I’m here to keep an eye on the competition.

Have you seen anything interesting? the guy next to me asks.

I turn to face him and find he’s around my age. He’s wearing a lab coat with Robert Kingston embroidered on the breast.

Yeah, I saw a few neat new products and went to a panel on skin cancer treatments earlier. How about you?

Plenty. I went to a panel earlier today that revolutionized treatment for hair and nail growth.

Robert Kingston keeps droning on, but I tune him out. I don’t care about hair and nail growth treatments. I know some dermatologists deal with issues like that, but I focus on other areas of the practice, like acne and fixing skin damage from the sun.

Seriously, it would be a great product to add to every dermatology office in the country. Let me just give you my card, and we can talk about it more!

I accept the card from Robert just as the panel gets going. Thankfully, listening to the speaker means I can ignore Robert. I usually like meeting other doctors, but this guy and I are not compatible. His practice seems more superficial than mine. Plus, I would never wear my lab coat to a panel like this. Only pretentious assholes do that.

I take notes while the panel goes on. I love my dermatology practice, but over the last two years, I’ve been developing my own products to sell. My company, Blake Cosmeceuticals, launched a little less than a year ago. We have products for all kinds of skin care needs. I’m incredibly proud of how well we’ve done since launching. All the major retailers, plus smaller cosmetics stores, are either carrying our products or are in conversation with our small sales team.

It’s been amazing. I love being able to create products that will help my patients. Plus, being involved in the development of new products has given me new insight into a lot of the issues I treat. Before, I always knew which products worked, but now, I understand why.

The panel ends, and I’m not interested in the next one, so I empty my seat for another guest to use.

AJ! someone calls out when I enter the main floor.

I turn to find a guy I graduated school with, Peter.

Hey, man. How’s it going?

He pulls me in for an awkward bro-hug. Peter has always been a fidgety guy. Weird, too, but I like him well enough. I see him around at these conventions when I manage to drag myself to one of them.

It’s going, Peter. How are things in Brooklyn?

Peter grins. Brooklyn is great, man. My practice is picking up. How about you? How’s Manhattan?

It is what it is. Plenty of patients, and never a dull moment.

Peter claps my back. Exactly, man. New York City is where it’s at for dermatology. Only LA might have more patients than us.

You ever think about going west?

He rolls his eyes. Not a chance. I like the snow too much.

I get that.

Plus, I’d hate LA people. I’ll stick with these patients. They’re annoying enough as it is.

They definitely can be. That’s part of why I’m branching out.

What do you mean?

I pull out my new business card.

Blake Cosmeceuticals. I’m working on the product side now.

And still taking patients?

Yep. It’s a lot, but I like it. Plus, I don’t have as much face time with patients now that I’m working on developing new products.

Damn. Maybe I should get into that. I love the work, but I’m sick of patients coming in with unrealistic expectations.

I nod in agreement. That’s one of the major reasons why I wanted to work on production. I’ve had patients come in expecting me to make them look sixteen when they’re already over sixty. That’s just not possible. For a dermatologist to do, anyway. A plastic surgeon might be of more assistance to them. At least on the development side, I can avoid some of that drama.

It’s great, I add.

I bet. Too bad I’m not a science guy. I did well enough in it to earn my degree, but I never excelled in those classes.

I remember that about him. He didn’t always get the best grades in our science classes.

Yeah, I love science. It’s been really interesting to get into how different chemicals work to help certain issues, and how some can actually make an issue worse.

Peter pulls out his own business card and hands it to me. You should send me your products. Send some testers. I’ll check them out and try to work them into my regular rotation.

Hey, thanks. I’ll get my distribution center to send you out a load.

Perfect. I look forward to checking them out.

We say our goodbyes, and Peter makes his way toward the panel rooms. I figure I should check out the actual floor now. I’ve only been to a few booths so far, and I’m here to see what my competitors are doing. I need to make the most of this annoying convention.

As I meander through the crowded aisles, my mind wanders. Yes, the patients and the science were huge factors in why I decided to start my company. However, there was one other aspect I couldn’t help but consider.

Products are where the big money is.

Don’t get me wrong; I make a decent salary as a dermatologist. However, starting my company has made the difference between living in a regular apartment in Manhattan and owning my new townhouse.

Think about those girls from that reality TV show, Kylie and Kendall Jenner. They may have earned some money for being on TV, but they’re not rich because of that show. It’s their companies that make them the real money.

The fact that I can make a shit ton of cash by doing something I enjoy is icing on the cake. At least, I make a shit ton of cash as long as my company does well.

We were off to a slow start last year when Blake Cosmeceuticals launched. It took a lot of work from our sales team, and a bunch of calls from me, to get people to trust in our products. Things started to pick up about six months ago when the reviews started coming in.

My products work. Of course they do. I spent a year testing everything to make sure they worked.

A lot of my patients acted as test subjects. They had to sign some forms, of course, and go through all the regular testing levels, but most were on board. You build trust with patients, and they’re willing to do pretty much whatever a doctor asks them to do. I would never abuse that power, but it was nice to have a built-in set of testers.

I try to clear my head as I make my way from booth to booth. I need to focus if I’m going to make this stupid convention worth it.

I stop at one booth for a company called Marsden. They focus almost entirely on special healing lotions.

The one closest to me says it’s for damaged hands. I squirt a small amount onto my hand and rub it in. My hand definitely feels smoother, but the lotion leaves a greasy film that I don’t like. I make a mental note of the ingredients. My products don’t have a lot of oils in them if I can avoid it. This one has three different types.

A few of the lotions at this booth are better. One makes my hand itch a bit, though that’s probably because I’ve used six or seven types already. I’m not going to blame the product for the reaction. At least, not this time.

See anything you like? the woman working the booth asks. She looks the same as everyone else working at the convention. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

No, thank you. I’m just testing out some stuff.

She bats her eyelashes at me. Well, you just let me know if that changes, okay?

I nod, but I walk away. I’m not trying to flirt with anyone here. Not that any of the other guests are getting the hint.

That’s why I hate these conventions. Ninety-five percent of the people who attend are female, and most of them have their eyes on me.

I get it. I’m tall with black hair and blue eyes. I work out almost every day, and I have a naturally athletic build. Girls love that kind of shit. I’ve gotten this kind of attention from women my whole life.

The problem is that none of these women are my type. They’re