One Blissful Summer

By Natalie-Nicole Bates

For years, Amii Sloane has held a burning grudge against Ryan Maine for his cutting cross examination during her sister's murder trial. Now, a chance encounter brings Ryan back into her life, along with a very interesting proposition — to work as his personal assistant in the idyllic town of Unity.

 

Down on her luck, and supporting a mother with early onset dementia, Amii doesn't have much of a choice but to accept the job Ryan offers. But can she overlook the past to possibly open the door to a brighter future?

 

As she spends time with the handsome, successful lawyer, she realizes that maybe first impressions can be wrong, and that just maybe she and Ryan could share a whole lot more than she ever imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paperlate Press
• Release date: Sep 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223832072

Natalie-Nicole Bates

Natalie-Nicole Bates is a book reviewer and author. Her passions in life include books and hockey along with Victorian and Edwardian era photography and antique poison bottles. Natalie contributes her uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in Russia. She currently resides in the UK where she is working on her next book and adding to her collection of 19th century post-mortem photos.    

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Natalie-Nicole Bates

One Blissful Summer

First published by Paperlate Press 2023

Copyright © 2023 by Natalie-Nicole Bates

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Natalie-Nicole Bates asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Natalie-Nicole Bates has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the Author

Also by Natalie-Nicole Bates

Chapter 1

Chapter Separator

From the instant he first saw her, Ryan Maine sensed she would be his wife.

I’m usually very good with faces, but I’ll be damned if I can remember where I know you from. It sounded like a cheesy pick-up line, but it was the truth.

He smiled at the raven-haired beauty before him. He had been off the dating scene for way too long. Now was the time to get back into the game.

His smile deflated when he saw the hard, cold look in her dark eyes. You may not remember, but I sure do. As a matter of fact, I’ll never forget it. You cross-examined me at the trial of my sister’s murderer. You destroyed a part of my soul that day.

A man never at a loss for words, Ryan now stood tongue-tied as she stalked away from him, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

Once upon a time ago, he was a criminal attorney with a thriving law practice. Now, he rarely ran into anyone who was even remotely related to his old life.

Tonight was meant to be a part of his new life.

A get-together for the screenwriter Jordan Preston, in his fabulous suburban home, to celebrate the movie release of a film for which he wrote the screenplay. There was already a buzz in the air about multiple award nominations for best-adapted screenplay.

Ryan didn’t need, or want, to be reminded of his old life.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted the party’s host at the bar. Jordan would certainly know the mystery woman in purple.

At the bar, he ordered a club soda with a twist, and casually asked, Who is that woman in the purple dress?

They both cast their glance toward the beautiful woman, who was now looking out the full-length floor-to-ceiling glass wall, into the darkness.

That would be Amii Sloane.

The name didn’t ring any immediate bells, but then again, he represented hundreds of defendants over twenty years. He had an excellent memory, but even he couldn’t be expected to remember every case in detail, or who was involved.

What does she do? He hoped to gain insight into this woman who apparently hated him, with whatever soul she still had left after his cross-examination, in some court case, from who knew when.

Um…she wrote a book I’m dying to get the screenplay rights for. It’s about that guy — August Murphy. The one who fancied himself a vampire. He murdered a bunch of teens about ten years ago. Amii was the only person he allowed to interview him before he cut his wrists with his own teeth. Jordan faked an all over shudder. Disgusting freak for sure, but I still want to write the screenplay. Anyway, just look at her.

He whistled softly under his breath. She’s got everything to get me going - gorgeous face, hot body, and she’s brilliant - enough to make a man sit in his car outside her apartment building all night, on the off chance he might catch a glimpse of her passing by the window.

Was Jordan Preston a screenplay writer by day, and a deluded, secret stalker by night?

Ryan looked again at Amii Sloane.

Perhaps he was.

Outside of a professional capacity, she doesn’t notice I even exist. Amii is absolutely icy. She doesn’t realize just how good we could be together, Jordan said wistfully and disappeared back into his throng of admiring party guests.

Ryan noticed that Jordan practically salivated as he spoke about Amii Sloane.

He was sure Amii got that reaction a lot.

He sensed she wasn’t the type of woman who would go for a man giving her the full court press. Jordan did have a reputation for being somewhat of a pig when it came to pursuing beautiful women. Whether they wanted his attention - or not. Even in his own past, he had his own love-them-and-leave-them reputation. Times changed, and he was no longer that same man. He liked to think that mature and wise, were better qualities than overbearing and sleazy.

Ryan wasn’t about to let the matter drop with Amii, especially when he didn’t have the facts.

All he wanted from her was a reason for her anger, and a chance to explain his side of the story. If afterward she still thought he was a monster, then fair enough. At least he would always know he tried to make things right.

Going for casual, he made his way through the crowd of party guests, stopping occasionally to chit-chat with a few acquaintances. He definitely didn’t want Amii to think he was zoning in on her.

Finally, he stood right next to her, but she only stood peering out of the window into the darkness. Rain pelted against the thick glass. Amii, can I speak with you alone for a few minutes? he asked.

I don’t think so. She lifted her wine glass to her lips.

Suddenly he noticed that the blood-red wine perfectly matched the fullest, most luscious lips, he ever laid his green eyes upon. Arousal surged with the strength of a bolt of electricity. He had never been hit so hard, or so fast. He inhaled slowly through his nose and held it for a few seconds before expelling the breath passed his lips.

Why, Amii? He was truly puzzled by this lovely woman’s bitter attitude. Maybe she despised him on a professional level, but she didn’t even know him on a personal one.

I don’t like your profession, Mr. Maine. You help murderers walk free. I don’t like you, and that’s being kind.

Whatever I may have done to you in a courtroom, does not reflect who I am outside of it. His words came out clipped and short, not at all as he had intended.

Turning on her heels, her smoldering brown eyes made direct contact with his. That’s your opinion, Mr. Maine.

My name is Ryan.

Listen, Mr. Maine…Ryan…whatever. This is my friend’s party to celebrate his success. She gestured around the room. This is not the time or place to get into this ugliness with you. Her expression turned pained.

She was right.

This was Jordan’s party, not a chance to conduct a serious discussion with Amii.

Still, he did want to make an honest effort to change her opinion of him. I just want to talk to you. Could we get out of here, and grab a cup of coffee somewhere quiet?

She shook her head with disbelief. I tell you that I don’t like you and that you had a part in destroying my soul, and you still hit on me. I know all about you, Ryan Maine!

Obviously, his past reputation preceded him.

Amii was going to be tough to crack.

Amii, I don’t want to have sex with you! he blurted.

Heads turned in their direction.

Her jaw dropped, and she stared mutely at him with her big brown eyes that he was already smitten with. I am mortified, she whispered.

He lifted a hand and squeezed his eyes shut. That didn’t come out as I meant it. You’re beautiful, any man would want to make love to you, and you know that. I just want to speak to you somewhere private, but I guess that’s shot to hell now.

There never was a chance in hell that I’d leave with you tonight anyway, she countered.

His pride hurt, and his cheeks heated.

Yet, he pressed on.

Just consider having dinner with me. If that’s asking too much, meet me for coffee, or a glass of wine. You choose the place, I’ll be there. Reaching for his wallet, he extracted a business card and handed it to her. Call me.

No, I’m not going to call you, or see you again after tonight. She stepped suddenly back from him and teetered unsteadily on her high heels, and nearly lost her footing.

Quickly he reached out, and steadied her shoulder with his hand, allowing his fingers an extra few seconds to linger on her satiny porcelain skin.

I’m clumsy, she mumbled softly.

He seriously doubted she was clumsy.

It was either fear or repulsion she felt toward him.

He wasn’t sure which.

The realization produced a sick, acidy feeling in his stomach. What had he done in the past to this girl? He wished he could remember.

Maybe it was time for a change in subject. I like your shoes, he commented. He liked more than her shoes. He hadn’t felt this kind of burning attraction for, well, for a long time.

Since before he