Finding the Love Back

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and language that may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

Table of Content

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Ava’s phone rang for the thousandth time that day. She sat in her plush downtown Atlanta office. It was located was in the heart of Buckhead, a posh upscale community in downtown Atlanta. Being there allowed her access to clients from all over the city. Plus, anyone that visited the city tended to migrate towards the downtown area, so she was in the perfect location.

Her building was tall and fully made of glass. She’d chosen an office space on the tenth floor for the offices of Ava M. Ava Marie Collier had come a long way from her south Georgia roots to becoming a fashion consultant to the stars. Atlanta, Georgia was the type of city where everyone was trying to be somebody. The scene was set for those who had money, and those who pretended to have money.

Ava Collier didn’t come from money at all. She’d worked hard for every dime that she had and as far as she was concerned, she would never return back to the humble roots from which she came. Her life now afforded her whatever she wanted. She shopped at the best boutiques, ate at the finest restaurants, partied with the stars that acted in multi-million dollar budget blockbusters. Ava Collier had done a lot of work to become Ava M. or Miss M. as she was called on the Atlanta social scene. She had turned her love of all things fashion into a growing empire.

She worked twelve to fifteen hour days taking calls from clients who needed her in California for awards ceremonies or who needed her at photo shoots to style them. Ava had quickly become the hottest stylist in the industry and she didn’t want to lose steam anytime soon. She had more plans for her empire. She wanted to start her own clothing and shoe line and one day she wanted a perfume to go with it. It was all she’d ever dreamed of and she knew that she could make it come true if she continued to work hard.

“Miss M., line three,” her receptionist said through the intercom.

Ava picked up her jewel encrusted phone. It was going on eight o’clock and she was ready to shut it down for the evening. Her schedule was clear for the night and all she wanted to do was go home and rest with a glass of wine and some reality tv shows.

“Thanks, Lisa. Put them through.” Ava sighed while she waited for the phone call to be transferred. She tried to uplift herself because each phone call would be a potential client.

“Yes, this is Miss M.”

“Miss M. How are you? This is Baxter Brody.”

“Oh, yes. How are you, Mr. Brody?” Ava knew of Baxter Brody, the new hunky Hollywood bad boy who was trying to reshape his image so that he could get more movie roles. He had spent the last three years of his life being a socialite; hanging out in bars, dating starlets, and trying to start an unsuccessful rap career. Now word was that his manager was trying to make him more marketable and shop him for film or tv roles and that he needed a stylist to revamp his image.

“Please, call me Baxter. Look, I hear that you come highly recommended as a stylist. So I’d love to set up a meeting with you so we can go over specifics and get started.”

Ava snickered. This Baxter was so smug. Usually the manager would be the one to call her and get all of the business arrangements set and then she would meet with the client to get a feel for them so that she could best style them. Baxter Brody was as aggressive as he seemed in the tabloids and blogs, but Ava never missed out on a potential client. 

“Let’s say Seasons 51 on Peachtree Road. Two o’clock tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Miss M. I’ll see you tomorrow. I look forward to it.”

Ava hung up the phone and phoned Lisa on the intercom. “Lisa, please put lunch with Baxter Brody at Seasons 51 on my schedule tomorrow at two.”

“Sure thing Miss M. And don’t forget you have a photo shoot in the evening with The Dream Boys. I’ll sync your schedule to you in a moment.”

“Thanks, Lisa. Have a great evening.”

“Thanks Miss M. You too.”

Ava knew that Lisa had two small children at home and it was important to her to leave each evening by eight o’clock. Ava did her best to make sure Lisa stuck to doing so. Her employees were important to her and they were like family. Her assistant, Lindsey was her right hand. Lindsey knew everything about how her business ran and she was quite capable of making sure that things were run as efficiently as Ava did it.

Shuffling through a side desk drawer, Ava found a hair clip. She twisted her blonde hair up onto the top of her head and clipped her hair up off of her shoulders. It had been a long day and she wanted to take the opportunity to rest that evening. She packed up her Mac book and grabbed her purse, ready to enjoy an evening at home relaxing.

As she bid goodnight to the building door man, she walked out to the parking deck. She was happy that she’d parked close to the exit door and she didn’t have far to walk.

“Good night Miss M.,” the parking deck security officer said as he rode past in the security truck.

“Good night,” she replied. The security officer paused for a moment as Ava got in the car. When Ava closed the door and started the car, the security officer tipped his hat and rode off.

As Ava pulled out of the parking deck, her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but the prefix was from south Georgia. She didn’t bother to answer. From time to time, people that she’d known in high school or their friends and family got a hold of her cell phone number and called her “just to catch up”.

It became annoying to have to force a conversation with people from her hometown who she either hadn’t talked to since she left home nineteen years ago or whom she never had a relationship with in the first place. The common idea was that since she was living in Atlanta, she had made it and would be the personal ATM for everyone in Conner, GA. Conner was a small town about forty miles away from the Florida/ Georgia state line.