FIRST LOVE_A Single Dad Second Chance Romance
FIRST LOVE
A SINGLE DAD, SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE
BY
SCARLET WILDER
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title
Copyright 2018
Important Notice
Warning
Note From The Author
Bonus Read
Description
Chapter 1: Elle
Chapter 2: Liam
Chapter 3: Elle
Chapter 4: Liam
Chapter 5: Elle
Chapter 6: Liam
Chapter 7: Elle
Chapter 8: Liam
Chapter 9: Elle
Chapter 10: Liam
Chapter 11: Elle
Chapter 12: Liam
Chapter 13: Elle
Chapter 14: Liam
Chapter 15: Elle
Chapter 16: Liam
Chapter 17: Elle
Chapter 18: Liam
Chapter 19: Elle
Chapter 20: Liam
Chapter 21: Elle
Chapter 22: Liam
Chapter 23: Elle
Chapter 24: Liam
Chapter 25: Elle
Chapter 26: Liam
Chapter 27: Elle
Chapter 28: Liam
Chapter 29: Elle
Chapter 30: Liam
Chapter 31: Elle
Chapter 32: Liam
Chapter 33: Edward
Upcoming New Release
Other Releases: Losing It
Description
Other Releases: “Getting It” Box-set
About The Author
Connect & Get Social With Me
COPYRIGHT 2018
SCARLET WILDER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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Copyright: Cover, designs, photos, artwork and all written content.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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IMPORTANT NOTICE
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WARNING
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“First Love: A Single Dad, Second Chance Romance” is a steamy romance novel with language and scenes that are for mature readers only.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
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This book is a work of fiction.
This fictional work does not claim to be an accurate account of
names, places, geography, times and events.
This work of fiction was created in the imagination of this author.
I invented the story and made up the characters, the plot or storyline, the dialogue and, when needed, the setting and other details so support the storyline.
BONUS READ
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Hop on over to my website and get your free copy today!
www.scarletwilder.com
DESCRIPTION
First Love: A Single Dad, Second Chance Romance
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Sarielle
Liam was my first - my first love and the first man that I’ve made love to. Only, our lives were worlds apart and his family did everything they could to keep it that way.
Ten years later, we meet again by chance.
He somehow ends up smarter and sexier, and he still has the same effect on me.
Only now, life is more complicated for us both, and he needs a pretend fiancé.
What good is living your dream when you know that it’s just a lie?
What good is having a dream if you never take the chance to live it?
I was young and naïve the first time around and thought just because we loved each other, that would be enough, but it wasn’t.
It turned out love wasn’t enough, and I thought I’d lost him forever.
Moving on, but never really getting past the loss, I built myself a life, even got myself a cat,
but never managed to fall in love again.
I had no idea that just seeing him again would make me realize why.
Liam
A Baby!!
I didn’t think it could be real until that DNA test was sitting right in front of me.
Now, I’m all this little girl has, and I’m not about to let her down.
I made up my mind years ago about the kind of dad I’d one day be and now that fatherhood came sooner than I planned, I’m even more determined to keep that promise.
In my world, money isn’t a problem, but I still need to keep my shareholders and business partners happy.
I need to find a wife, and soon, as my daughter needs a mother and the success of my business demands it.
They say money can solve all problems,
so let’s see if it can buy me the future I secretly desire.
1
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ELLE
Summer came late to Albany. That much was clear as I watched the leaves scud over the ground and twirl up into the air as we pulled up to the large courtyard. I envied the valet, warmly wrapped up in a long topcoat, as he approached our car and opened the passenger door as though we were guests arriving at a movie premiere. Mom stepped out in her high heels, careful not to let her electric blue dress ride up too high. I opened my door and was sad to leave the warmth of the car behind, pulling my fringed shawl a little tighter around my shoulders as a gust of cool air licked my face.
As the valet drove away, we hurried up a small set of stairs that led to the large front entrance where a cute young guy, looking dapper in his tuxedo, met us at the door. He smiled broadly and motioned us to enter, the welcoming heat emanating from inside the house drawing us in.
Only, there was no way you could ever call it anything as mundane as a house. It was nothing short of a mansion. The grandiose foyer was jaw-droppingly beautiful. My mouth practically fell open as I gazed around in amazement at the opulence that greeted us.
The front door opened to white walls and tall ceilings, beautifully lit by a glistening crystal chandelier that cast a soft light, filling the room with a warm glow. Everything was perfectly arrange
d; from several priceless paintings scattered along the walls, to fine porcelain vessels and leather-studded furniture perfectly placed throughout the large space.
Mom immediately put her arm through Henry’s and pressed her lips to his ear.
“Try not to break anything here tonight,” she said. Henry rolled his eyes and I stifled a grin. I’d heard her give him the lecture so many times I’d lost count.
“If you manage to get out of here by the end of the night without having destroyed anything or embarrassing your father and me, then I promise to get you the video game you asked for.”
Henry’s eyes lit up at hearing this, and he nodded. I felt a little sorry for him, really. A stuffy party is the last place a twelve-year-old wants to spend a Friday evening, and he could very easily find something here that could get him into serious trouble. But I knew the lure of the computer game would mean he’d be as good as gold. He could pull off one trouble-free night in a heartbeat if motivated by the right incentive. Sometimes I think my little brother acted like a jackass ninety percent of the time simply because he knew he’d be rewarded for good behavior for the remaining ten.
It was an important evening, and we all knew it. Dad’s professional dedication was about to be rewarded. For twenty years he’d been working at Wilde’s Mergers and Acquisitions and, with the retirement of one of the company’s executive board members, the position needed to be filled. Patrick Wilde, Dad’s boss and the reason we were at the party, had all but promised it to him. For now, we had to be on our best behavior.
Since Dad had worked his way up the corporate ladder, gaining one promotion after another, we’d all been gradually introduced to a world far removed from the one I’d known as a child. By the time I reached high school, I, too, was talking about spending weekends at the club, playing tennis, and swimming in the heated pool, while Mom and Dad networked with the prominent people in the company.
I knew that Mom, who’d spent most of her life in the modest streets of Paterson, New Jersey, found it a little strange to relax on a lounger while sipping cocktails, talking about manicures and skiing holidays. But it suited her, too, and now she was even good friends with Patrick’s wife, the beautiful Dana Wilde, who instantly caught my eye as we joined the party.
She moved gracefully through the crowded room in a silver gown, wearing what appeared to be a diamond choker around her neck. When she caught sight of us, she immediately hurried over, grabbing her husband by the arm as she did so.
“Jayne!” she exclaimed, kissing Mom on each cheek. “You look fabulous. Is that from the boutique on Fifth that we talked about?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “It’s a little shorter than I’d liked, though.”
“Nonsense,” Dana said. “It’s perfect. Hello, Simon.”
“Dana, you look beautiful, as always.” Dad pecked his boss’s wife on the cheek and then firmly shook Patrick’s hand. “Happy birthday, Sir.”
“Thank you. But you know to call me Patrick,” the host replied. “We’re not in the office now, Simon. Can I get you a scotch?”
“Sounds great,” Dad said.
Henry and I looked knowingly at one another. We never knew Dad to drink scotch at home. He was much happier with a beer or even a glass of wine in hand, but when the president of the company you work for offers you a fine whiskey, you dare not refuse.
Dana Wilde turned to me and smiled, looking down at my dress. “My, Sarielle,” she said. “That’s an exquisite dress! Who’s the designer?”
Blushing, I replied. “I am, and I made it especially for tonight. I’m glad you like it.”
“Oh, I certainly do. You’re very talented, my dear.”
It was impossible to tell whether she was being sincere or not, but I took it at face value and thanked her for the compliment. I’d been worried about wearing one of my own designs tonight, even though I’d spent hours making the dress, pricking myself with pins more times than I’d care to count. I’d painstakingly measured every inch of my body to make sure the fit was perfect and then sewn thousands of crystal beads onto the bodice by hand. It took more than a hundred hours and multiple headaches to finish. The lace I used for the skirt and back had cost me a whole month’s worth of wages from my weekend job at the store, but it didn’t matter. I was pleased with how the dress had turned out and it seemed that Dana liked it, too.
She scanned the room as if searching for someone, and I immediately felt a sickening feeling at the pit of my stomach. I knew who she was looking for, and I certainly wasn’t in any hurry for them to come over. I realized that my efforts to send Mom a telepathic distress code, to help me get away, were in vain as soon as Dana waved and made a beckoning motion with her hand. There was little I could do to get out of it, now.
“Catherine!” she cried, as the girl approached. “Look who’s here. Sarielle and her family. Sarielle’s dress is stunning, don’t you think?”
The sneer on Catherine’s face was no surprise. She tended to have the same expression every time she set eyes on me. Her scrutinizing gaze scanned me from head to toe, and she took a sip of her wine as though she was stifling a laugh. I looked at her own dress. It was silver, similar to that of her mom’s, only Catherine’s plunged at the neckline, the mermaid style gown hugging her toned figure, honed by years of cheerleading.
“Did you make it yourself?” she asked sweetly.
“Yes,” I answered, wanting to kick myself for feeling so exposed. But Catherine Wilde had always managed to make me feel like nothing more than dirt on the underside of her shoe. I knew she looked down on me, on my entire family.
I’d even heard rumors of a nickname she and her friends had assigned to me. At first, I didn’t understand. They called me Nouveau. I later realized that it was a code phrase referring to people like me, people like my family.
Nouveau Riche. New Money.
For some reason, generations of rich people in Catherine’s family handing down their wealth was perfectly acceptable. But, for people like my father, whose own dad had been a New York City cop, and who had worked harder than anyone I knew to get to where he was today, it was somehow distasteful.
We were well off, but we weren’t stinking-rich. Not like the Wildes. And, for some reason, Catherine had seen it as a personal affront to her privilege to have to fraternize with me in her social circle, be it at the club, or at her father’s fiftieth birthday party.
“Why don’t you girls go hang out together?” Dana asked. “Catherine, get Sarielle a drink. You don’t mind if she has a glass of champagne, do you, Jayne?”
“Not at all,” Mom said. “It’s a special occasion, after all.”
“Can I have some?” asked Henry.
“No,” Mom said, sternly. “You can have a soda.”
Henry thrust his hands into his pockets and glowered. I would much rather have spent my evening with my little brother than with the people with whom Dana had sent me to mingle. However, in front of her mother, Catherine was always the epitome of sweetness and light.
“Come on,” she said, her sugary voice seemingly fooling everyone but me. “Let’s go find the others, Sarielle.”
I cringed. Nobody ever called me by my full name. Dana was the only one to use it, and that’s only because she’d always said it was such a pretty name and that Elle was far too common a name these days.
I liked the shortened version and Catherine knew it. But I pretended not to notice her barb as I walked over to where her friends were standing, the same patronizing sneer on their faces.
Catherine went to stand next to her boyfriend, who smiled and greeted me as he wrapped a huge hand around Catherine’s tiny waist. Michael Zimmer was a good guy. Star quarterback, on his way to any of a number of colleges desperate to have him play for their team. I had no idea what he saw in his girlfriend, though. Of course, she was beautiful and had exquisite taste in clothes, cars, and jewelry. But she was also cruel, calculating, and as cold as a witch’s tit.
I felt unnerved standing
there in front of her coven of friends, desperately wanting to leave, when Michael started to talk to me. “That’s a nice dress,” he said. “It’s very sparkly.”
He was so awkwardly endearing, and I wanted to hug him for noticing that I felt out of my depth. He was new to Catherine’s world, too. His dad was a laborer, his mom worked in a grocery store, and he seemed even more bewildered by the opulence than I did. But he was tall, fair and very handsome, so I guessed that Catherine made an exception, particularly as he was well on his way to becoming a major-league football star.
When he spoke to me, though, I felt Catherine’s demeanor change from condescending to rigid. She poked him in the ribs and he stopped smiling at me and looked down at her. “What?” he muttered. “I was just being polite.”
But Catherine Wilde wasn’t about to have her boyfriend speak to a peasant like me. Her eyes narrowed calculatingly as she plastered a fake smile on her face and glared at me. “Sarielle,” she said, her voice dangerously sweet. “I’m such a bad hostess. You still don’t have a drink. Let’s go get you that champagne you wanted. Here, this way.”
She started to guide me away toward a man in a tuxedo holding a tray full of long-stemmed champagne-filled glasses when, suddenly, she appeared to trip. Before I knew it, her glass of red wine was flung to the side and emptied all down the front my dress. She clamped a hand over her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my goodness!” she squealed. “How silly of me. Here, let me help you.”
She proceeded to get a napkin and pretend to dab up the wine as people turned to look, their voices muffled. Her friends muttered to each other with their hands covering their smirking mouths, and Catherine looked happier than I’d seen her all night. I glanced at Michael, and he looked at me with such sad eyes I had to force myself to smile.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “It was only an accident.”
“Of course it was,” Catherine said. “What a clumsy thing of me to do. How about you go use the restroom at the back of the house? It’s just through the kitchen.”