Dear Elliot: Love's Bloom

By P. Stormcrow

FROM EXCITING ROMANCE AUTHOR P. STORMCROW

A Love's Bloom story

Love or hate... It's a fine line for two broken souls.

The last thing Emma Jones needed was for her past to walk back into her life. She has a sick mother to care for, a mansion to mind and bills to be paid. But when Elliot Carmichaels saunters in with a facade of cavalier arrogance, she is faced with more questions than those she had written in her diary.

As an author with writer's block, Elliot, aka E.A. Jones, needed a change in scenery, even it meant he had to live with the childhood crush he had ghosted. He could handle it, he told himself. He was wrong. Now stuck with a fiery woman who both tempts and infuriates him, he has to figure out if he's going to kiss her or push her away.

Secrets must be told and pain confronted if Emma and Elliot want to salvage their relationship. But life has a way of throwing curveballs, and they will have to navigate them together or fall apart.

It all begins with two words. Dear Elliot...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839434952

P. Stormcrow

Award-winning author P. Stormcrow has always been an avid reader across the fantasy and sci fi genres but early on, found herself always looking for the love story in each book. Coming to terms with her love for love later in life, she now writes steamy romances that examine social norms and challenge conventional tropes of the genre, usually on her phone. And yes, she has walked into walls and poles doing so. When she’s not reading or writing (or even when she is), she enjoys copious amounts of tea, way too much sugary treats, one too many sci fi / fantasy / paranormal TV shows (team Dean all the way) and every otome game she can possibly find.

Book preview

Author

Totally Bound Publishing books by P. Stormcrow

The Playgrounds

The Words to Bind

The Will to Serve

Collections

Rules of Summer: The Knots that Hold

Some Like it Haunted: The Fae Effect

Love’s Bloom

DEAR ELLIOT

P. STORMCROW

Dear Elliot

ISBN # 978-1-83943-495-2

©Copyright P. Stormcrow 2021

Cover Art by Claire Siemaszkiewicz ©Copyright April 2021

Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2021 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

Love’s Bloom

Love or hate… It’s a fine line for two broken souls.

The last thing Emma Jones needed was for her past to walk back into her life. She has a sick mother to care for, a mansion to mind and bills to be paid. But when Elliot Carmichaels saunters in with a facade of cavalier arrogance, she is faced with more questions than those she had written in her diary.

As an author with writer’s block, Elliot, aka E.A. Jones, needed a change in scenery, even it meant he had to live with the childhood crush he had ghosted. He could handle it, he told himself. He was wrong. Now stuck with a fiery woman who both tempts and infuriates him, he has to figure out if he’s going to kiss her or push her away.

Secrets must be told and pain confronted if Emma and Elliot want to salvage their relationship. But life has a way of throwing curveballs, and they will have to navigate them together or fall apart.

It all begins with two words. Dear Elliot…

Dedication

To Lori, who rooted for this story from beginning to end.

Thanks for believing in me.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Oreos: Intercontinental Great Brands LLC

Louis Vuitton: Louis Vuitton Malletier Corporation

Gucci: Gucci America Inc.

Ralph Lauren: Ralph Lauren Corporation

Ghostbusters: Columbia Pictures

Volkswagen Beetle: Volkswagen of America Inc.

Here We Go Again: David Coverdale, Bernie Marsden

BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

Fossil: Fossil Group Inc.

All You Need is Love: John Lennon, Paul McCartney

Uber: Uber Technologies Inc.

Lyft: Lyft Inc.

The Expanse: James S. A. Corey

Vancouver General: Vancouver Coastal Health

Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson

Granville Island Pale Ale: Grandville Island Brewing

Ruby Tears: Parallel 49 Brewing Company

Take On Me: Pål Waaktaar and Magne Furuholmen

Prologue

The chilly spring breeze did nothing to slow Emma as she ran down the street lined with small maples that the city had planted just the past summer. Her heart raced as her sneakers pounded the pavement.

A bark alerted her enough to detour onto the neatly trimmed strip of grass between the sidewalk and the road. Small, excited yelps joined the deeper growls as she neared the source of the sounds and three dogs tried to jump in her way. Emma swung to her left, just skirting around a woman with a head full of fiery curls.

Emma! The woman spun to avoid becoming tangled with the leashes she held. Be careful!

Sorry! Emma waved over her shoulder but didn’t slow. The dog walker took care of most of the puppies in the neighborhood and not a day went by, rain or shine, that Emma didn’t see her on the way back home from school.

She continued at the same pace past a row of hedges and excitement thrummed in her body. As the plants gave way to stonework, Emma grinned wider. Almost there.

When Emma drew close to a pair of giant ornate black gates, she skidded to a stop. The intercom box to the right winked its invitation, but she ignored it.

Mom’s not going to get worried if I don’t go in right away. Besides, she’s busy with preparing for the Carmichaels, anyway.

Decision made, she pulled up the hoodie that had slid down her shoulders, adjusted her backpack and stepped closer. She reached high to grab the bars and pulled until her right foot found purchase. With a smile of triumph, she did the same with her left and climbed.

The Carmichaels had never meant for the gate and walls to keep anyone out. They were just a way to provide privacy, and she found the scaling easy until she reached the top. With slow care, Emma swung herself on to the other side and descended only three steps before she lost patience and launched herself off the gate.

She landed on the pavement in a crouch, her palms hitting the concrete. Ouch, she muttered, but picked herself up and dusted off her hands on her scuffed jeans. Then she was away again, veering from the path that let cars drive up to the double doors and heading toward the giant cherry blossom tree that reigned above all else in the front yard.

The faint, delicate scent of the flowers wafted to her and Emma closed her eyes to inhale deep. Early spring had brought the tree to full bloom, and Emma wanted nothing more than to make her way to the top and sit among them. Like a fairy princess. She giggled at the thought.

But that was enough anticipation. She shrugged off her red backpack, full of homework and art projects, and placed her hand into the smooth bark of the trunk. Still questing, she grabbed hold of a thick branch and swung herself up. Today, she would make it to the top, no matter how many times she had to try. Today was the day. She could feel it.

Her focus narrowed to moving her hands and feet to strategic places that helped her progress. Emma made it up as far as a quarter of the way when the first challenge appeared. Last year, she had still been too short, but at the tender age of twelve, she had grown another two inches since. So, she stretched for the next branch, large enough to hold her weight. Just a little more.

Hey, what are you doing up there?

Emma froze. The voice was not her mom’s. Rather, the voice was deeper, but it cracked with the last word, like a typical teenage boy’s would. With a reluctant sigh, she shuffled around on the branch she stood on, using the trunk of the tree as support, then eased herself down to sit on it to regard the boy.

A nest of unruly locks framed wide hazel eyes that glinted green as they reflected the color of the leaves. But he narrowed them in obvious skepticism as he stood with his arms crossed, his legs spread in a wide stance. Emma sucked in a breath when she realized he had grown another head taller since last spring break when he had come back with his parents. And more serious, too.

Hi, El. Emma waved and grinned down at him.

Em, it’s dangerous up there, he scolded as he pushed back his dark bangs.

Then come up here and protect me, Mr. Smarty-pants, she teased and swung her legs.

Elliot studied her before he sighed with a soft smile. Fine.

Watching him climb, Emma was stabbed with envy. His long, gangly limbs provided much better reach, and she guessed that he would have no problem climbing all the way to the top.

Emma inched over, gripping onto the branch below to keep her balance. As the leaves and flowers brushed by her face and across her bare neck, she giggled and ducked. It tickled.

Em! Elliot scrambled to sit and pull her to him while he held on to the trunk for support. You need to be more careful.

Okay, okay! Emma laughed under her breath but leaned against Elliot all the same and laid her head on his shoulder. He was still bony, as if his body could only grow tall but not wide.

I don’t understand why you like high places so much, Elliot grumbled.

And I don’t get how you can be such a worrywart. Emma reached across and poked him in the ribs.

Hey! Elliot clenched his stomach but took the poking in stride.

What? None of the boys at school act like you.

Elliot stiffened and arched his brow as he looked down on her. And do the boys at school climb trees with you like this?

Heat bloomed across Emma’s cheeks, although she didn’t quite fathom why. No. N-n-not really, she stammered and looked away. Self-conscious, she tugged the hood over her head.

Good.

Emma heard more than saw the smugness in his voice. She snuck a peek from the shadows. He had curved the corner of his lips upward in a smirk.

They said no more and just sat amid the flowers. A gust of wind swept through the tree, and petals fell in a shower. Snow in spring.

But Emma grew restless. How long are you staying this time?

A week. We came so Dad could have a few meetings then after we are heading to Palm Springs. Mom said that’s the only way Dad is going to get a vacation.

Oh. Emma hung her head with disappointment. As much as she enjoyed hanging with her friends at school, they weren’t Elliot, who always seemed more mature and more ready to indulge her. And they didn’t know her like he did.

Hey. He tugged her hoodie off her and offered a more open grin. I’ll text you pictures, okay? And who knows? Remember last year when Dad had to come back last minute because work exploded?

Emma laughed at the memory. Uncle David—really her mom’s boss and owner of the house they lived in—had barged in the door before Mom had even put on fresh sheets. He didn’t care, though. He had beelined straight for his office and hadn’t come out all afternoon. Aunt Linda had grumbled the entire time.

See? It’ll be okay. The surrounding arm tightened, and she wondered if he was telling her or himself that.

Hey, El, got a new story for me? Emma decided she didn’t want to dwell on the future.

Of course. I started a new one for the character of Captain Chance.

Really? Emma perked up. Elliot had started writing down his stories to send to her, but he hadn’t written a new one in the world they had created together three summers ago since…forever. Is Darcy Sass in it? That was her character, a rogue space pirate who traveled with the captain.

Yups. I wrote it down but haven’t typed it up yet. Want to go read it? Elliot made sure she was stable before he withdrew his arm and placed both hands on the trunk to help himself up. He half pivoted and extended a hand to her

Um, does Kent always snort when he laughs?

Elliot tilted his hand to one side. I don’t know. Does he?

Emma rolled her eyes. Of course he does. She grabbed his hand and trusted his strength and balance to haul her up.

They made their way down the tree and it wasn’t until they crossed the yard that she realized she had clean forgotten her quest to climb to the top. Well, there’s always tomorrow.

Elliot led them past the garage, around the building to the back, through the mudroom, the game room and to the kitchen.

Hey, Mom! Emma slid into one of the stools by the counter and Elliot followed suit.

I found her, Elliot said at the same time.

Thank you, Elliot. Her mother Anna, a beautiful woman with light hair already graying, tied in a messy bun, turned with two plates in hand. She had rolled up her sleeves and wore an apron. It looked as though she was in the throes of her cooking. Not surprised. Mom would go all out for meals while her boss’ family stayed in this house.

Here. Have a snack. Your mother told me it’s been a long day with the flight and transfers. She’s upstairs unpacking. Oh, let me get you some milk. Are you feeling any jet lag? What time is it in London right now?

Thank you, Mrs. Jones. It’s eleven p.m. there, but I napped on the plane.

That’s good. Her mother stopped short though as her gaze fell on Emma. Emma Jones, where is your backpack?

Emma swallowed hard as her mom placed both plates down—cheese, pieces of bread, dried fruit and nuts. Super healthy again. Sometimes Emma wished there were chips or Oreo cookies but now was not the time to ask. "Um… I think I left it outside.

I can go get it,