Authors: Alice M. Roelke
“Betty, you’ve…you’ve brought so much life into my heart. You brought me alive again. Even though I’m a writer, I’m not always good with words when I-I have to say them aloud to someone’s face. But what I…what I’m trying…what I want to tell you is you’re like that peach tree to me. An impossible thing, amazing and precious and rare; a peach tree blooming in winter, that somehow, amazingly, appeared at my home and brought me back to life.”
“Oh Jake—” Her eyes filled with tears again. “You did for me, too!” She gripped his arms and smiled tearfully up at her wonderful, wonderful Jake. He’d taught her to trust again, somehow overcome her fear of being rejected and the hurt and pain of the two men in her past who had wounded her heart. He’d helped her believe in herself, believe she did have worth. And most of all, he loved her…
They said these stumbling words to each other, clear in their hearts; awkward tongues struggling to fit meaning in the heart to meaning that could be heard. And yet she understood him, and she could see in his eyes he understood her, as well.
They turned to look at the tree again, inhaled the freshness of its blooms, the promise of things to come. Then beneath the tree, they shared the perfect kiss. It tasted of spring, the thawing of both their hearts, and the promise of so many things, so many perfect days to spend together.
The end
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More Sweet Romance:
Ellie's Advice
All her life, Ellie's poor health has held her back. But not anymore. She's going for the job she longs to have, as an advice columnist for a local paper.
Shel Silverberg is a widower who's promised himself he'll never marry again. His arranged marriage was a kind of torture, and he'll never sign up for another. Then he meets the beautiful and sweet-natured Ellie. As her editor, he has to remain professional—but he can't stop thinking about the gorgeous redhead.
She can't stop thinking about him, either. When they accidentally meet in the park and end up rescuing some puppies together, their lives will never be the same.
A sweet, gentle, retro romance set in the 1950s.
Laurie's Painter (Regency romance)
Laurie never meant to fall in love again, certainly not with a humble female painter. Jenny is too busy helping her brother survive to even contemplate romance. Love isn't for someone like her. Or is it?
E
xcerpt:
"Excuse me if I don't bow, but I think it would do well to get your brother indoors, Miss Wilkenson."
"Oh! Indeed!"
Her brown hair, not in the best of array, tumbled down to her shoulders and beyond. While the curls would've been the envy of some women, had they been arranged, these appeared to have a mind of their own. They had either resisted arrangement or been given up altogether.
The young woman stood back and held the door open.
Laurie noticed with interest that she wore a painter's smock over a plain brown gown, that both were spotted with paint, and that none of the above took away from her fine figure. She was small, neat, slender and moved as quick and energetic as a bird, but without a bird's nervous energy.
The invalid moved into the house, though not without grumbling and attempting to shake off his sister's solicitous hands and take his coat off alone. Here Laurie and Miss
Wilkenson conspired against him, helped him out of his coat, hat, gloves, and scarf. Then they sat him in a large, sagging chair by a small fire burning weakly.
Laurie put another scoop of coal on, ignoring the disapproving looks from the siblings. "There. We shall be cosy in no time." He took off his gloves and put them in his pocket. Shabby furniture and an easel, canvas, and paints occupied the small room. A small table by the easel had several paintbrushes, spots of paint, and a pot of turpentine on it.
The canvas on the easel contained a partial portrait of a woman with two small dogs that resembled her. "I see you are painting Mrs. Wainscott. How singularly apt your portrait is."
Henry nodded vaguely, not opening his eyes.
The sister cast Laurie a concerned look, her slim brows drawn up and worried. Her hands pressed together in front of her smock. Laurie smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner; she needn't think he'd point out that the canvas and paints were far too wet to have been used by anyone but the young woman herself.
"I don't recall inviting you in," said Henry in a cold voice, weak and thin.
"Oh, but you're not such a fiend as to send me away! Think of the old school."
"We've no refreshments to offer you," said Henry, turning to look into the fire. He coughed again into his handkerchief.
At this his sister coloured. "We—we have some port. Will you have some, Mr...?" She looked at Laurie humbly. "I'm afraid I don't know your name. Are you one of Henry's old friends?"
Henry was too weak to answer, but he cast an outraged look at Laurie.
"No, I am one of his very newest friends." Laurie smiled down at the girl. He accepted the hand she held out and bowed over it. He felt slim fingers, paint stains, and calluses such as might come from holding a paintbrush. "I'm Laurence Joysey. But everyone calls me Laurie. And you must tell me your charming name. Or should I guess it? I'm thinking something dreadfully exotic, such as January. No? Perhaps Aurelia."
She flushed slightly under this teasing quiz, and drew back her hand. "I'm afraid it's nothing so special as that. I'm Jenny."
"Jenny! A little brown bird. Why, I am very pleased to meet you, and you're quite better looking than your namesake." He smiled at her irrepressibly with his eyes.
Her gaze cast down, and she blushed. "Oh—well I don't know about that. Thank you for bringing my brother home."
"Don't let him tease you," said Henry in a croaking, weakened voice, scowling darkly. "He's a rake of some sort, I'm sure of it." He seemed to be holding himself up only barely by the arms of the chair, as if he would sink into its depths and be swallowed at any moment.
"Henry," implored his sister, casting an agonised look at their guest, silently apologising for her brother. "When he feels poorly, it ruins his manners. But I beg you won't—"
"I won't," promised Laurie. "And now I believe I've overstayed my welcome. See you tomorrow, Henry."
Buy link:
www.amazon.com/dp/B00CYQBTM6