Lucky Storm (eBook)
264 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-0462-6 (ISBN)
EK Rose writes contemporary romantic suspense highlighting the lasting power of love as we age. Like her characters, she believes in second chances and new beginnings. Her first novel, 'Lucky Storm,' is the beginning of a trilogy following Stormé LaChance, a woman in her 50s rediscovering love and passion. EK Rose currently resides in New Jersey.
Storme LaChance, a fifty year old marketing executive, has always been unlucky in love. When a casual encounter with a stranger starts a chain of events trapping Storme in a complex con orchestrated by one of her ex-lovers, she must confront her past and the things she hoped to keep left behind. Amidst fraud and betrayal, Storme works to solve the mystery of whodunit and clear her name to reclaim what is hers. Along the way, Storme meets a charming detective who turns everything this middle-aged beauty thought she knew about love upside down. Will Storme be able to reclaim her future? Or will her trusting nature cost her everything in the end?
Chapter 1
A Chance Encounter
Stormé wakes up to the soft sounds of smooth jazz. Another Monday morning, she reminds herself. “Ugh, this project,” she groans out loud, stretching under the covers to relieve pent up tension.
A late Friday afternoon call from a client ruined her plans for a relaxing getaway at her country estate. After a heated debate over the last-minute details for a marketing campaign that wasn’t going well, she canceled her weekend plans. She stayed at her penthouse in the city to be closer to her office. Exhausted from working overtime on the project, she now finds it difficult to escape the thoughts ruminating in her head. How could I have missed those details? What was I thinking? She sighs as the butterflies in her stomach remind her of the physical reaction she’s having from her feelings of self-doubt. Damn it! Get it together Stormé, she chides to herself.
Stormé raises her head off her pillow and looks around the bedroom before snuggling back under the covers. The warmth of her bed and the need for more sleep win. Dozing off, she catches a few more winks. A short while later, she jolts up in a panic.
Am I late? she thinks. “Am I late?” she repeats out loud. Through bleary eyes, she barely recognizes the numbers on her clock’s display. 6:38 am.
“Whew,” Stormé whispers, relieved. Forcing herself out of bed, she stumbles into the bathroom and starts her morning routine. After applying the finishing touches on her makeup, she glances at the clock across the room while putting on her shoes. Shit, it’s 7:30 already.
Stormé grabs her messenger bag and checks to make sure she has her phone and keys. She picks up a couple of packages and heads out the door. A nearby taxi is coming down the treelined street. She dodges between a couple and another pedestrian walking down the cobblestone sidewalk to reach the taxi before the driver picks up another rider.
Once on her way, she opens her phone to check emails. Her client has sent several messages overnight about the campaign. Lost in thought, she’s oblivious to the beautiful city skyline that surrounds her, framed by charming cafes and iconic architecture, creating a vibrant and captivating scene as her taxi takes her into the heart of the city. The city center is alive with the hustle and bustle of the morning rush as people embrace the start of their day.
“Hey, this is your stop,” the cabbie says.
Distracted, Stormé opens the cab door and hits a man standing next to the curb talking on his cell phone.
“What the fuck!” he exclaims, glaring at her angrily.
“Sorry,” Stormé says absently, glancing up at him momentarily. He’s wearing sweats and looks scruffy, like he’s just come back from the gym. She shakes her head in disbelief at his audacity and gathers the rest of her belongings from the taxi.
She moves past him as she heads inside the post office, unaware that the stranger is following her. As usual, a long line waits, with only one postal worker behind the main counter. She gets into the line, hoping it will move quickly. When the line doesn’t move for a while, Stormé notices the current customer and postal worker engaging in a deep conversation.
Are they flirting? “Seriously?” she mutters under her breath. Stormé opens her mouth to say something. Just as she’s about to speak, someone shouts, “Hey, some of us gotta go to work!”
Stormé turns around to mouth a silent ‘thank you’ and locks eyes with the stranger she hit with the cab door standing near the end of the line. She stifles her comment and turns back around, hoping he hasn’t noticed her.
The stranger makes his way past the line of customers, excusing himself as he cuts the line to move behind her. She hears the commotion and then the words “Hey, Cab Lady,” whispered in her ear. Any hopes that he hadn’t seen her vanish.
Stormé turns around; startled that he has jumped the line and now stands behind her. What the hell? she thinks to herself.
“Hi, sorry about what happened earlier,” she hears herself say—almost involuntarily.
The stranger is curious why she would apologize for something that was his fault. He stares back at her with no emotion. The space between them feels uncomfortable. Then, out of the blue, he smiles.
“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the cab door,” the stranger says. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
Something about his smile puts her mind a little at ease as she continues to struggle with the packages in her hands.
“Let me help you with those,” he offers, grabbing one of her packages before it slips to the floor.
“Thanks,” Stormé says hesitantly.
She’s grateful that the line is moving along so she can arrange her packages on the customer counter leading up to the main checkout area. It’s a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable space she finds herself in with the stranger next to her.
The stranger checks her out as she busies herself with the packages, appreciating what he sees. He likes her petite, curvy stature and sophisticated yet casual dress. As she turns to introduce herself, her alluring beauty surprises him: warm, radiant cocoa-brown skin; thick curly hair with tiny flecks of gray; long eyelashes over almond-shaped brown eyes. To clear his thoughts, he shakes his head, reminding himself, I must stay the course and not get distracted.
Stormé turns back to the stranger, smiles, and exchanges banter with him to ease the tension she feels as the line of customers inch towards the main counter. Surprised by the soft-spoken, American southern drawl of the words coming from her luscious lips, the stranger catches his breath. Up close and personal, he realizes Stormé is not quite how he imagined her to be. As the conversation continues, Stormé introduces herself. “By the way, I’m Stormé, and you are?” she asks.
The stranger marvels at how friendly she is, despite the obvious hesitation in her voice. He chuckles to himself about how Americans don’t seem to have reservations about talking to random strangers. He knows that revealing too much about himself isn’t part of the plan, so he quips, “I’m the asshole standing in front of the cab door.”
They both laugh. Stormé continues, undaunted. “So, what’s your name? I feel bad about the cab. Maybe I can make it up to you with a quick coffee? There’s a café around the corner.”
“Wait, you have time for coffee?” The stranger says laughing, “After almost knocking me over while getting out of the cab and then complaining about the long line in the post office?”
“I make time as I please, Mr. ... I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“I’m Emile. Most people call me ‘E.’” He pauses momentarily, thinking about her invitation. It doesn’t surprise him. He just finds it strange that she’s so comfortable making the time to spend with a stranger.
“Yeah, I’d love to grab coffee with you.”
He nods toward the counter. “Looks like you’re up.”
Stormé completes her transaction, and steps to the side, waiting for Emile. They leave the post office and walk to the coffee shop where they order and then find a table near a window. The server soon arrives with their coffees. As they sip their drinks, Emile continues conversing about the weather.
Stormé’s mind drifts for a moment as she looks at him more closely. She notes that he’s tall, muscular, and could be quite handsome—if he wasn’t sporting an unsightly, overgrown beard. His clothes and mannerisms blend into the crowd and go unnoticed—maybe a bit too unnoticed? Something seems off about his appearance. Stormé hears a slight lisp that feels exaggerated, almost fake, as he speaks. Embarrassed that she would think such things of a stranger, she brushes it off.
She returns to E’s conversation when he switches subjects and compliments her. Realizing her judgmental thoughts have distracted her for the past few minutes, she is caught off guard and blushes.
E laughs, teasing her when he sees her flushed cheeks. He continues with the conversation, changing the subject one more time. “So, what do you do?”
“I’m in marketing,” Stormé replies.
“You know, I got a cousin looking to get into marketing,” he says excitedly. “She’s in her last semester of college and trying to get her first job.”
“Is that so?” Stormé replies. “Well, my firm has an intern program. We’re constantly seeking college seniors and recent graduates with fresh ideas. How about I give you my card, and maybe you can pass it along to her?”
Emile takes the card. “Stormé LaChance,” he reads out loud. “Well, Ms. LaChance, I’ll pass this on to my cousin.”
He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I’d also like to call...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 1.10.2025 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3178-0462-6 / 9798317804626 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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