Hey, fellow romance readers!

Are you ready to get a sneak peek into my new novel? Meet new characters who may steal your heart and embark on their journey to happily ever after?

The book is still without a title but certainly not without excitement. I value your feedback, so drop me a FB message (BKS Books) or email with your thoughts on this excerpt. However, please note that copyright applies to all aspects of my work, including this sneak peek. Please refrain from sharing or reproducing any part of it without my permission. Your respect for my work is truly appreciated. Thank you!

With the legal stuff out of the way, let's dive right in.

Chapter 1

Ella

Terrific. Another useless meeting sure to waste my time.

The second the elevator’s door seals shut, I slump against the cold metal wall, clutching my coffee like a lifeline. Ignoring the jolt of the car ascending, I gulp the lukewarm brew. Anything to steel my nerves before the mandatory meeting, which will probably shred the remains of my sanity.

This damn campaign. How much more time will it take to get it just right? It’s about to ruin me. The client’s product launch barrels closer by the minute, but my social media strategy is still a jigsaw with missing pieces. And now I'm being whisked up to the top floor to a meeting I can’t get out of.

Those types of summits always drag on forever, usually resulting in more work, spending cuts, and other headaches. But the boss' memo left no doubt—attendance wasn’t optional. No exceptions. My stomach knots with dread at what fresh nightmare might await now. I check my watch and groan. Three more floors to go, and I'm supposed to be there in two minutes. I gulp more coffee. God, I wish I had a little more time to pause and refuel.

Finally, the elevator glides to a stop, and the doors whisper open. I step out into the hallway, my toes screaming inside my four-inch power heels. Why again have I fallen for shoes disguised as torture devices?

 Because they make your legs look smoking hot, my inner femme fatale purrs.

I have to admit, she has a point. But who am I trying to impress, anyway? Certainly not my two-timing jerk of an ex or anyone I work with.

 I speed up to make the meeting. Three steps into the lobby, my heel slips right out of my brand-new nude patent pumps, sending me lurching forward. Adrenaline spikes as I struggle to get my balance back. Too late—coffee sloshes out of my cup and down the front of my peach silk blouse.

“Crap,” I mutter under my breath, though I want to scream. By sheer luck, I stay upright and jam my foot back into the loose shoe. If I had wiped out on that slick floor, a twisted ankle would have been the least of my worries. Glancing down at the spreading stain, I cringe. So much for looking professional for this thing. Yeah, that ship has sailed.

As I slip into the conference room at the tail end of everyone's small talk, I catch my colleagues staring at the huge stain on my chest. Ugh. The room is jam-packed, every seat taken. Some other stragglers hang out by the back wall. Edging past the long conference table, I join them, taking a spot in the corner.

My nerves kick into high gear as I glance around the full room. This is definitely no regular status meeting. Between the hushed voices and the weird vibe, I can almost taste the anxiety in the room. Something doesn't feel right. Whatever the purpose of this gathering, it isn't rainbows and puppies. And given the company’s latest money moves? I wonder which poor suckers are about to get the short end of the stick.

Not a minute passes before David Garner steps up to the podium. With the CEO and owner heading up this meeting, things will go south in a hurry. He usually shows up to deliver bad news.

“I'll be brief,” he begins, sounding somber. “Late last night, I transferred ownership of my company to Hill Marketing Strategies. As of this morning, we are operating under new leadership.”

What? I nearly choke. He's sold the company?! Gasps erupt all around me at the bombshell news. Garner holds up a hand to shush everyone before dropping another shocker. “The acquisition went through way faster than expected and Mr. Hill wishes to integrate our teams without delay.”

Garner introduces Timothy Hill and the new boss steps up next and gives a polished speech about change bringing opportunity. Blah, blah, blah. The sharky smile doesn't reach his calculating eyes as he scans the room. I can read between the lines. This ‘changing of the guard’ talk is code for aggressive downsizing. My stomach twists. It means cuts and pink slips for sure.

When the meeting wraps up and a buzz erupts around the room, Mr. Garner asks me to swing by his office. Deep breaths, Ella, I coach myself while heading over. No need to panic. Just because he's asking to see you doesn't mean it's bad news. But what if it is? The little voice in my head pipes up.

The knot in my stomach tightens as I take a seat across from him just a few minutes later. The weird absence of his usual clutter pile, and the single file in front of him, tells me this chat will suck. And I don't need a one-on-one chat to know what is brewing in my gut. This is it for my time with the company.

My boss leans back, elbows on armrests, he tents his fingers. It speaks of confidence, authority, and control. I’m not stupid; I know what’s coming and somehow this makes his words even worse. “Miss Westhoff, I'm sure you can guess why I asked you here right after my announcement.”

Yeah, I know alright. I cross my legs and fold my hands in my lap. Like hell, I’ll let him see the emotions swirling inside. If he is going to fire me, I’ll damn sure won’t make it a cakewalk for him.

“I don’t, Mister Garner, but I’m certain you won’t keep me in suspense,” I say, hoping my voice won’t quiver over my thickening throat.

“Let me get right to it then, Miss Westhoff. Due to restructuring and redundancies under the new leadership, your position is being eliminated. In short, Mr. Hill decided to terminate your employment, effective immediately.”

Fired. I knew it.

Garner's matter-of-fact statement hangs there, heavy as a brick. My gut had seen this coming, but hearing the words out loud? I hit me like a punch to the stomach.

“You’re letting me go.” My mind reels with disbelief as outrage burns up my esophagus. Five years of contributions and sacrifices tossed out like yesterday's trash.

Fired.

I want to scream at the injustice of it all. But I bite my tongue. No, I will not break in front of him, though I’m seething inside. Somehow, I manage to keep my facial expression neutral as his words wash over me like a cold shower.

Severance Package

New opportunities

Excellent letter of recommendation

Bright future

More bullshit.

Behind the roaring in my ears, Garner's voice fades into the background. And then it’s over. The deed is done. I don’t have a job anymore.

Fired. The word loops in my mind. It constricts my chest and steals the air from my lungs.

What now? The severance package… it's peanuts. A hysterical laugh bubbles up my throat at the thought of trying to live off the paltry sum they're offering me. It's a joke, but I bite my lip to hold back the inappropriate laugh. I can't afford to fall apart in front of my ex-boss.

But how will I pay the bills? Dip into my retirement funds? Panic claws up my throat.

God, this is too much. This morning, I woke up feeling as if sprinkled with fairy dust. Instead, the day dumped a gigantic pile of monkey shit on me. Fairy dust and monkey shit. Ha… the perfect slogan for a day like today.

Christ, I’m losing it.

Nope. Not now, not here. I will clean out my office and then everyone can kiss the red soles of my pumps as I get out of here. I’ll go home, crawl under a blanket, and scream until my lungs burn.

Or get drunk.

Or both.

***

On the drive home, road signs pass in a blur as anger flashes behind my eyes. I’m white knuckling the steering wheel, as if holding it in a death grip might stop the swerve my life has taken today when a flashing neon diner sign catches my eye.

The glowing words cause my empty stomach to grumble, reminding me that the apple I had for lunch and the gallon of coffee all day are no longer cutting it. I let out a sigh. When I surveyed the fridge this morning, all I found was a shriveled lime, some questionable takeout containers, and a nearly empty bottle of wine. Clearly, I hadn’t had time or was simply too tired at the end of the day for a proper grocery run for the past few days. Though right now I just wanted to go home and forget this crappy day had ever happened, I needed sustenance, and I needed wine.

I decide to make a quick stop at my favorite wine shop where I grab two bottles of chilled Chardonnay. The cashier quips "rough day, eh?" as he bags the wine, sensing my need for drinkable therapy tonight. I’m not in the mood for chitchat, so I give a nod of acknowledgement, grab my bag, and bolt for the exit.

Next stop is the Golden Wok, my regular Chines takeout place just down the street. The bag is heavy with cartons of food as I head out the door. After this shitty day, I’m ready to hunker down and hermit away for a few days. Crispy Chardonnay and slurpy noodles, the food of pity parties.

At home I kick off my heels, then stalk barefoot into the kitchen. Bo follows hot on my heels, meowing. I stoop to run my fingers over his black fur. “Bo, baby, I got fired today,” I whisper, as though I’m revealing a highly classified secret, but the feline doesn’t seem to be impressed. He slinks around my legs, crying, demanding to be fed.

After scooping kibble in his bowl and refreshing his water, I undo my ponytail as I head to my bedroom. There I wrestle out of the ridiculously tight skirt that felt like a vise all day and fling my stained blouse into the laundry basket as if disregarding the day’s bad luck. Then I put on my most comfy PJs.

I’m almost ready to have my one-person festival of self-sorrow. Returning to the kitchen, I snatch a wineglass from a cabinet, uncork the bottle and toast Bo. “To Mr. Timothy Hill. May Karma bitch-slap him twice.”

I lift the full glass to my lips, take a deep drink, and lick my lips. “Okay, boy,” I say, looking at my feisty roommate, who's already cleaned his bowl and is now licking his paws. “Let’s get this party started.” He stares at me with huge green eyes, as if asking why I’m talking to my wine glass or if I plan on sharing any scraps from the takeout feast.

 My stomach clenches. Am I hungry or just pissed? Most likely, both. I trudge into the living room and spread out my feast. The word ‘fired’ coils inside my head, tangling my thoughts as aimlessly as the limp noodles twirling around my fork. Thoughts of what might’ve been if Tim the Shark hadn’t ended my career torture me. To top it off, the churn of my thoughts spoils my appetite. The food tastes like nothing, thanks to the bitter aftertaste of the day lingering in my mouth.

Ugh. I shove the Beef Lo Mein aside, crack open a bottle of wine, and FaceTime my best friend, River. She’s been my friend since we bonded over her being the new kid in first grade. Now, over two decades later, she’s still my bestie.

Her face flashes on my phone as the call connects. “Hey, babe,” she says, her eyes crinkling around the edges as she smiles. “How are you?” 

I sigh, pushing a hand through my hair. “Hanging in there. Barely.”

River’s expression instantly morphs into one of concern. “What’s up? Want to talk about it?”

And that’s what I love about her. She doesn’t spew false platitudes or try to fix my problems. She just listens. Even after five years of living half a country apart, she still has my back.

 Lounging on the couch, wineglass in hand, I vent about getting fired. She hums here and there while I rage, rant, and spew bitterness over my firing, never rushing me or telling me to look on the bright side.

“Damn babe, that’s rough,” she finally says when I run out of steam. “But who cares about Garner or Whatshisface, though? That place didn't deserve your mad skills. You've always bounced back from stuff before, so take this as your sign to move on to bigger things. Okay? New opportunities for you, so dust yourself off and move on.”

As I knew she would, River cut straight to the core of things, and after draining all my toxic emotions, I already feel less mopey. I lift my glass. “Cheers to you, girl. Thanks for talking some sense into me.”

“What are besties for?” River shoots me a lopsided smile.

I smile before taking a sip of chardonnay, then let out a sigh. “I guess this job was really draining me more than I thought. You're right, maybe it's time to find something better. But honestly, right now I just want to get a pleasant buzz to help me forget this wretched-rotten-miserable-garbage-awful-horrible day for a while.” I take a large gulp and smack my lips.

“Babe, you’re zero to sixty on that buzz. I wish I could be there to clink glasses and help you polish off that bottle.”

“Oh, shut it,” I laugh, taking another swig. “I need this buzz, okay?”

River’s smile softens. “Does Pippa know?”

I let out a weary sigh, the edges of my smile wilting. “Not yet. I just need a moment to gather myself before I break the news.”

Thinking about Pippa makes my chest ache. My sweet grandma has been my rock ever since that freak tornado took my parents twenty-one years ago. The image of her taking the eight-year-old me under her wing and showering me with unconditional love flashed through my mind.

I chew the inside of my cheek as I wonder about her reaction when I tell her I got canned. The mere thought of upsetting her kills me. 

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” I say.

River nods, giving me a cheerful smile. “She’ll understand, El. You know Pippa would want you to take care of yourself right now, not stressing over her.”

I nod too, hoping my best friend is right. “What’s so funny?” I ask when her lips quirk, as if she's holding back a laugh.

“Not to change the subject, but kitty PJs? Really, Ella?”

“Oh, shut it, PJ snob. Like I care about looking cute just to lounge at home.”

“Maybe if you had some racy undies, you’d get more action,” River teases, giving me an exaggerated brow wiggle.

“What?” I nearly snort wine up my nose, giggling despite myself. “More like granny bloomers, with my luck.” I stop and then start laughing again. “You always know how to cheer me up when I’m feeling crabby. I love you to the moon and back, you nutball.”

As the giggles fade, River turns more serious. “For real, though. It’s been almost a year since you dumped that two-timing wonker. Maybe it’s time to put yourself out there again?”

Waving off River’s concerned look, I smile. “Cheers to good riddance.” With another gulp, I finish my wine. “The last thing I need is this kind of distraction—or God forbid—another narcissistic boyfriend.”

“I feel you, girl. Chilling with Chardonnay and your fur baby sounds way better, anyway.”

“Girl, you know me so freaking well,” I reply, flashing her a grin. “A lazy morning in bed is definitely first up on the agenda tomorrow. Then I’ll spruce up the old resume and see what’s out there. Job wise, I clarify. But tonight, shooting the breeze with my bestie trumps any other plans.”

River studies my face, her eyebrows scrunched in concern. “You sure you’re all right, babe?”

“Yeah, I’m peachy,” I reply with an exaggerated eye roll. “Anywho, I’ll keep you posted on what happens with the job situation. Rant over. And thanks for listening and cracking me up, like you always do.”

“As always… welcome.” River grins. “Just don’t forget—shit happens for a reason, even if it seems like total BS at the time.”

“Ha, yeah, supposedly that’s how it works,” I say with a snort. “We’ll see about that. But whatever… Talk soon.”