Love You Madly

By Alison Kent

Claire's an expert on image—at least when it comes to her corporate clients. But her family's every move had her working to fit in instead of discovering her true self. Even now, she focuses on the expectations of others rather than on her own desires.

Randy's an expert when it comes to money, having bought his way through life after years spent on the streets. But his wealth has never paid for happiness. And now it's going to get in the way of the one thing—the one woman—he wants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jun 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094419848

Alison Kent

Alison Kent was a born reader, but it wasn't until she reached 30 that she knew she wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Five years later, she made her first sale. Two years after that, she accepted an offer issued by the senior editor of Harlequin Temptation live on the 'Isn't It Romantic?' episode of CBS's 48 Hours. The resulting book, Call Me, was a Romantic Times finalist for Best First Series Book.

Book preview

Chapter One

CLAIRE BRADEN COULDN’T remember a hotter day coming this close to Christmas in any of the places she’d lived during her thirty-one years. Whatever had possessed her to move to New Orleans was an inspiration that had long since melted into a puddle of sticky goo.

The temperature was unbearable, though it wasn’t the heat as much as the stifling humidity. The sort of sweltering, wet-blanket air that had her dreaming of walking naked through her town house and eating fresh fruit over the kitchen sink.

Running her air conditioner in December seemed such a sin, but run it she would—if only it wasn’t in need of repair. And she hated the thought of parting with that much cash until the heat took up seasonal residence late in May.

A cold front would blow through soon. She believed that with all of her heart. Besides, it was the holiday season. Surely Santa had received her wish list already.

The air conditioner. The Kooba slouchy shoulder bag in plum, please. Ten more hours in every day. Ten less pounds around her hips. Oh, and a fling with the guy whose balcony at Number 13 in the Court du Chaud sat kitty-corner to hers.

The first was practical, necessary, hardly a treat; the second a reward with which she’d be spoiling herself once she billed her current image-consulting client. The third, a pipe dream, the fourth her inherited lot in life.

The fifth, on the other hand, was extravagant, unexpected, a gift she wanted way more than she needed. It was also a gift that would go a long way toward assuaging the full-blown case of lust she had in her heart.

Unlocking her courtyard-facing front door, she let herself into the town house’s entry foyer. The outside heat and humidity were nothing in the scheme of things. Her new neighbor was the number one source of her blood running hot.

She’d lived at Court du Chaud for two years, yet knew few of her neighbors. Establishing her image consulting business would’ve been even longer in coming had she not arrived in New Orleans with a portfolio of high-profile corporate makeovers as well as consultations already scheduled as the result of referrals from past jobs done well.

As it was, the hours she poured into work came from the same pitcher as the hours left for sleep and socializing. She hadn’t yet mastered that never-ending loaves-and-fishes magic. And as much as she enjoyed making new friends, sleep was what kept her running at this pace.

She had gotten to know Perry Brazille who lived across the court. The two women often ate breakfast together at Café Eros, the two-story eatery at the courtyard’s entrance, drinking coffee, splitting one of the rich pastries that neither of them needed, comparing notes on their romantic dry spells.

And while at the café, Claire had picked up enough tidbits of gossip—most of those from the court busybody, Madame Alain—and enough snippets of conversation to know her new male neighbor would fill her straight-sex, no-emotional-involvement-fling bill nicely.

He’d paid cash for his town house, drove an import that cost a four-year tuition, dressed in suits that had never seen a rack, and had that rock-star smolder that caused women to throw panties and scream.

And, yes. It was terribly out of character for her to be drawn by external trappings when her business was all about image and she knew better than most what a fresh coat of paint could hide.

In fact, she gave herself a refurbishing makeover at every opportunity, trying on different looks as if she’d be able to find the source of her personal discontent once she hit on the right combination of color and style.

But her neighbor was hot and sexy and built like a god, and there were times nothing else mattered. Times like now with the holidays approaching when she wasn’t so crazy about spending the days alone.

After kicking off her Prada pumps, she tossed them, her purse, and her navy blazer onto her overstuffed sofa colored in reds and golds, and headed into the kitchen for a tall glass of iced tea. Her sleeveless white blouse unbuttoned over her ivory silk camisole, she retrieved her leather tote and the day’s mail she’d tucked down inside, and made her way upstairs to her bedroom’s balcony.

The cane fan overhead stirred the sluggish air; she sat in one chair at the glass-and-black wrought-iron table, propped her feet on a second, dropped her tote onto the third. It didn’t take her long to sort through the mail.

Flyers, catalogs, postcards, and sales sheets went into one stack for the trash. Bills went into her planner, as did her tickets to see Pink in concert in March. That left half a dozen Christmas cards that she settled in to read with her cold drink.

Three were from Windy, Tess, and Alexandra, the women who made up her core circle of confidantes. They’d attended and graduated University of Texas together, still vacationed together, and tried each year to coordinate their holiday greetings.

This year, unfortunately, Claire was suffering from over-coordination. She hadn’t even found time to buy cards, forget personalizing, addressing and mailing them.

A shame, too, because reading the handwritten notes from her girlfriends, even though she talked to them at least once a week and exchanged e-mails and texts with each more often, brought a silly smile to her face.

Seeing their handwriting, imagining where they’d been sitting when they’d dashed off the words, picturing their quirky habits—Windy tugging on the ends of her hair, Tess requiring a certain fountain pen, Alex keeping one eye on the task, most of her attention on her computer screen and a role-playing game...

Claire sighed. First thing tomorrow she was stopping for cards. For her girlfriends, her family. Enough even for the neighbors she’d gotten to know. Chloe who owned the café. Josie, the social worker living in number sixteen. Perry who seemed to run on Claire’s same manic schedule.

Hmm. Maybe she’d even slip one underneath the door belonging to the object of her lustful affection. Welcome him to the neighborhood properly and all that. Invite him over for a holiday drink. Keep the introductions sweet and simple and... sweaty.

At the sound of his balcony door opening, Claire forced her attention to her drink and the rest of her mail. She didn’t think he’d ever caught her out here looking her best. And lately, with the heat... she grimaced. Imagining what he’d see

Reviews for Love You Madly

[Nona · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Well nice sweet short Xmas Fantasy Eritoca.
But if something similar happens in real life, one should probably run as fast and as far as one can.