And They Lived Happily Ever After

by Therese Beharrie

Genres: Multicultural & Interracial Romance; Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

One unexpected kiss . . .



Successful romance author Gaia Anders has a secret: anything she dreams at night is magically written into her bestselling novels. After a lonely childhood in foster care, her dream life is the only one she trusts. Gaia's waking life just can't compare—until she gets caught in one utterly surprising, crazy-passionate, real-life kiss . . .



One near-perfect guy . . .



Workaholic businessman Jacob Scott has had a crush on his brother's best friend, Gaia, since forever—but he never expected to literally share her dreams. Living out their magical nighttime fantasies is explosive, but it's their waking desire turning his single-minded ways upside down. It's making him want a future he didn't think was possible . . .



One dream that could come true . . .



But Gaia has secrets from her past she won't reveal. And Jacob's attempts to keep the peace in his own fractured family puts him up against her deepest fears. Soon, they're facing hard truths about who they are and what they're running from. And the only way to break this curse is realizing true love's real-life power . . .

Release date: November 30, 2021

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

Twelve years later

“You brought a book to a party?”

“Yes,” Gaia said, her spine straightening at her best friend’s indignant tone. “The deal was that I needed to be here. There was nothing in the terms about socializing.”

“You’re right,” Seth Scott said seriously. “I’ll call everyone right now and tell them to bring their favorite book. We can all not socialize and read instead.”

“Really?” Excitement bubbled up inside her—until she saw the look Seth gave her. “Of course not really. I knew you were joking. Ha ha!”

She waved a hand to emphasize how little the prospect meant to her. But . . .

Did reading parties really exist?

“You’re salivating, Gaia.”

“Okay, but think about it. If we all brought our favorite books, it would facilitate conversation. An automatic icebreaker. ‘Why do you like this book, Lizzy?’” She directed the question to Seth’s partner, who was standing next to the refreshment table watching them with a smile. “‘Is it because it offers an interesting representation of societal differences in modern day South Africa?’”

“‘Why do you like Coming Together, Gaia?’” Seth said, imitating her tone. “‘Is it because it’s about mutual physical enjoyment? ’”

“Why are you like this?” Gaia asked, shifting her grip on her romance novel so Seth couldn’t see the title. It wasn’t as blatant as Coming Together, but it was an erotic romance and she didn’t need to give him ammunition. He could continue shooting blanks.

She smirked, and made a note to use that on him some other time.

“It’s the truth.”

“Yes,” she allowed. “Romance novels definitely highlight both partners’ physical enjoyment as important.” She looked at Lizzy. “I’m sorry, Liz. I’ve been trying to get him to read romance for years now. You deserve more than a selfish lover.”

“Hey!” Seth said as Lizzy laughed. “You know that’s not true.”

“How would I know, Seth?” Gaia said. “I’m one of the lucky ones who hasn’t suffered through a night with you.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he snapped. Lizzy laughed again. He glared at her. “You think this is funny?”

“Oh, no, I’m not getting involved.”

“Smart,” Gaia told Lizzy, whose sharp eyes sparkled.

“I have my moments.”

“You’re a corrosive influence in my relationship,” Seth said.

“I’m the reason you can be in a relationship,” Gaia retorted. “Should I remind you of the toxic habits you had before I became your friend?”

“Yes, do,” Lizzy said at the same time Seth said, “No.”

There was a short pause. Gaia smiled. This was fun. Teasing her best friend, talking about the old days. Seth was the only person she truly felt comfortable with—outside of the characters in the romance novels she wrote. If she told Seth about her abilities, as she’d settled on calling them, there was a chance he would stop nagging her to spend time with other people. There was also a chance he would book her in for psychological evaluation. That possibility kept her from telling him about it in the years they’d been friends.

No, she would have to resign herself to satisfying Seth through socialization in the real world. With strangers who would ask personal questions about her life. The thought had her heart beating hard against her chest. It joined the vibration that had been there since the beginning of the week when she realized she’d have to act on the promise she’d made to Seth over a month ago.

“Joking aside, Gai,” Seth said suddenly, concern clear in his voice. “Socialize. Please.”

She swallowed. The doorbell rang. Still, they looked at one another.

“I . . . will,” she replied eventually.

“Good.”

He gave her one last look before disappearing into the passage to open the door. Lizzy followed, but not before offering Gaia a sympathetic smile. Gaia stared after them for a beat. Then she plotted her escape.

There was the balcony on the right of Seth’s small living room. She could go down the fire escape. But voices sounded from the passage, and her legs felt unsteady. She’d denied it when Seth had accused her of being afraid, but she’d forgotten what it was like to interact with real people. Unpredictable people. The way her insides were squirming made her think Seth was right. As was the fact that she was on the verge of freaking out.

Now she was walking. Out of the living room, down the passage to the back of Seth’s flat. There were no exits there, and since the flat wasn’t big, she could still hear people.

An opportunity presented itself when she ducked into Seth’s bedroom and closed the door behind her. She hugged her book tight to her body and took a deep breath. This was fine. She was fine. She’d wait here until more people came and they could distract one another. Distraction meant she could slip in, talk to someone who didn’t seem frightening, smile, laugh loudly enough that people noticed she was there and having fun. After, she’d leave. It would take an hour at most. She could catch up on some reading now and lay Seth’s concerns to rest later. Nice and easy.

There’s a world outside of your books, Gaia. You can’t live inside them.

Gaia bit her lip. She didn’t want to feel guilty for living inside her books. Seth just didn’t understand how safe it was.

A movement from the doorway between Seth’s bedroom and bathroom caught her attention. She froze.

What was a half-naked man doing in Seth’s room?

“Gaia?”

It took her a second, but the voice sounded familiar. She blinked. Recognized the face.

“Jacob?”

She didn’t need him to confirm; she knew who it was. Except he didn’t look like the person she’d met twelve years before. Or even seen eight years before, at the funeral of Seth and Jacob’s mother. He wasn’t gangly or awkward. His braces were gone. And was that a V leading to his—

She whirled around. “Jacob. You’re a kid. Put on some clothes!”

“Nice to see you again, Gaia,” he said with laughter in his voice. Even that had changed. Gone was the uncertainty he’d spoken with years before. Now, it was all smooth and silky, like melted chocolate. She imagined climbing into a bath of it, letting it cover her body before he licked—

“Are you getting dressed?” she asked sharply, annoyed. At him, mostly, because his voice was sexy, as was his torso, and she did not need either of those thoughts living in her head with how she was feeling.

“You know,” he replied over a shuffling sound she assumed meant he was putting on pants. Or maybe underpants. She didn’t know what was under his towel. She could imagine, but that would be wrong because Seth was her best friend and Jacob was his younger brother and that basically meant Jacob was her younger brother. “After a decade of not seeing one another, I expected a warmer greeting.”

“You were standing in a towel. If I gave you a warmer greeting, I’d be arrested for messing with an underage kid.”

He laughed. The sound traveled over the small space of the room, landing on her skin, dancing seductively. It was . . . strange, even though she’d written about it countless times. She’d even lived it in her dreams. Still, she’d never thought she could actually be turned on by someone’s laugh in real life.

“I’m two years younger than you. Unless I’m doing the math wrong, and I’m not, I haven’t been underage for a while.”

“Twenty-eight?” she asked, automatically turning around. He’d managed to put on jeans, but his upper body was still naked. That torso taunted her. She lifted her eyes. “When the hell did you get to be twenty-eight?”

He grinned. A dimple pressed into his left cheek. It had been adorable when he was sixteen. She hadn’t seen it when he was twenty. But now? Now it was attractive. Deadly so.

She’d forgotten about her book, but now she clung to it so tightly she was surprised it didn’t become part of her body.

“Probably about the same time you got to be thirty,” he said easily. “Looking good, by the way. Have you been drinking from the fountain of youth?”

“Oh, because once I turn thirty I’m supposed to look like a prune? Hilarious,” she said dryly.

“Thank you.” There was a pause. “You do look good.” His eyes shone with sincerity. “I wasn’t being contrary. Well, not only.”

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. It was loose this evening, annoying her with its thick curls nestling in her neck. But at least it gave her something to do with her hands. And, when she dipped her head forward, covered the blush staining her cheeks.

“Thanks. You, er . . .” The blush got hotter. “You look good, too.” When the words lingered awkwardly in the air, she added, “The braces did your teeth good.”

The braces did your teeth good?

To think, she wrote romance novels. Her heroines were sassy and cool; her heroes smooth, but she, who created them, said things like the braces did your teeth good.

“Thank you. I’m quite proud of that, actually.”

He gave her a small smile, then threw a T-shirt over his head. It left his dark, not quite straight hair clinging to his forehead, making him look like a teenager again. Except it didn’t, not really. He looked very much like an adult. A deliciously harmless adult, though she knew he wasn’t. No man who oozed charm and didn’t get disturbed by anything she said could be harmless.

This was why she preferred socially awkward men. Not that she had much experience with men. At least not real-life men. But she imagined socially awkward men to be more hesitant. Less charming. Less dangerous. Or perhaps they would be more charming in their awkwardness.

She’d certainly written them that way in her books. She’d observed some of them being that way, too, when she built up the strength to work outside of her house. Many of the people in cafés during the day were the socially awkward types, working for themselves because they knew the world was a dangerously social place. Or was that just her? In any case, those men would stutter with servers and avoid eye contact, and that was much more on her level.

Men like Jacob though . . . She could already tell he would take anything she said in his stride. He wouldn’t be startled if she pointed out something weird—like his teeth—and he’d smile if she told him he needed to put clothes on. There wasn’t a taint of blush on his skin at the fact that she’d caught him fresh out of the shower. And her insistence that he was a kid, though he was twenty-eight, had barely fazed him.

No, men who were easy around people couldn’t be trusted. She could feel it in her gut.

“Is that a book?”

She blinked. Looked down at her hands. Up again. “Yes.”

“You brought a book to a party?”

Now she sighed. “Are you going to give me a hard time about it? You don’t have to,” she said before he could answer. “Seth’s already given me an earful.”

“I wouldn’t.” Again with that sincerity. It was . . . nice. “I was going to ask what you’re reading.”

“Oh.” She took a moment to decide if she wanted to tell him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Like the ones you write?”

“You know I write romance novels?”

“Seth’s mentioned it a couple”—he lingered—“million times.” He smiled. “He’s proud of you.”

“Yeah, well . . .” She trailed off when she had no good reply. She didn’t know how to respond to Seth’s pride. He was the only person in her life who felt that way about her. It seemed precious, and overwhelming, and she worried that if she engaged with it, it would disappear. “I dedicated my first book to him,” she ended up saying. “He has to be proud.”

“Not sure that’s it.” He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled on his socks and sneakers. “Do you want to tell me about the book?”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “It’s about a woman. And another woman. And they meet and like one another, but there’s a bunch of stuff that happens that makes them think they can’t be together.”

“But they can.”

“Of course.” She moved closer. “That’s what romance does so magically. You think they can’t be together. They think they can’t be together. And then suddenly something happens. An accident or an incident or a conversation or the sheer fact that they aren’t together and they want to be and they realize they deserve to be with one another.”

She blushed when she saw him watching her. Smiling at her. Again, she let her hair fall forward.

“I’m sorry. I got . . . carried away.”

Was this how it was going to be every time she spoke to an attractive man outside her dreams? Goodness.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked.

She hadn’t expected that.

“I . . . well . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure.”

She gave herself a second to consider it. Almost immediately, that first sex scene she’d written with Carlton came to mind. When she’d refused to sleep with him, she’d wanted to apologize for leading him on. She had every right to change her mind, and yet the man she’d written, the man she had created, hadn’t understood or respected that.

Amongst other things, that situation helped her recognize when in her real life she instinctually wanted to apologize. It showed her how that instinct was isolated to certain groups of people. She tried to change her behavior, but years of conditioning didn’t simply go away.

She could change it in her writing, however. She did. She made sure her heroines only said sorry when it was necessary.

“It must have something to do with how the world makes people who identify as women feel as though they need to apologize for taking up space.”

He stared, dumbfounded. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “It might have something to do with that.”

She gave him a half smile. “I try to engage with social issues as often as I can. I mean, I’m not perfect. I fail a lot. But I’m . . . I’m trying.”

“Why?”

She studied him. Took in what seemed like genuine curiosity on his face. Since she wanted to redeem herself after the braces comment, she would tell him what she thought. It had nothing to do with proving to herself that she could have a proper conversation with a real man. Nothing whatsoever.

“I want my romances to reflect the world. Or not reflect it . . . I want my romances to improve on the world. That means I need to know what needs improvement. Even if that means me. Especially when that means me.”

There was a long silence. Slowly, insidiously, tension took hold of her lungs. They were burning before she realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled, trying to make it seem as innocent as possible. After a quick inhale, she decided the silence was enough.

“Look, I should probably get out there.” To find another hiding place. “It was nice seeing you again. We keep missing one another at Seth’s birthdays.”

“Work,” he said.

“Yeah, I get it. You’re a big, fancy businessperson now.” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go—”

“No, wait,” he said quickly, moving forward, but stopping when she took a step back in response. “You shouldn’t have to go. I should. I came here straight from work and needed a shower. I promised it would be quick.” He offered a wry grin. “Seth’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He nodded. But he didn’t move. Apart from shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he didn’t act at all.

“Are you going to go?” she asked some minutes later.

“Yeah, of course.”

He still didn’t move. The tension inside her was dwindling again, replaced by amusement.

“Jacob?”

“Relax, woman,” he said sternly. “I’m leaving.”

“Except you’re clearly not and if you call me ‘woman’ again, I might have to kick you somewhere.”

He winced. “It’s probably safer to leave.”

“Yes.” When he made no move to, she sighed. “What’s keeping you here, Jacob?”

“I want to say something.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“I should probably say it.”

She dipped her head. She thought it was enough of a sign for him to continue.

“You’re impressive,” he blurted out. As if he’d been pouring liquid into a glass and stopped too late. Or didn’t stop at all, apparently, since he was still speaking. “Everything you said about trying to be better? It was amazing. Not everyone thinks like that. I work with a hell of a lot of people who don’t, and it’s a challenge.” He frowned. The crease between his eyebrows was adorable. Unfortunately. “Maybe some people feel like I’m narrow-minded? Huh.”

“That just occurred to you?”

He rested a hand at the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

It bothered him. It bothered him that he might not have been as aware, as sensitive to social issues as he hoped. He hoped.

“What?” he asked, his hand dropping.

“What, what?”

“You’re frowning.”

“No, I’m—” She broke off when she realized she was.

“I’ve upset you.”

“No.”

“But you’re frowning.”

“I’m processing.”

“What?”

“A lot of things.” He didn’t ask, but it seemed like he was waiting. Patiently, too, if she went by his expression. And it worked. “I’m thinking that . . . it was silly of me to worry before. When I told you those things. I thought you’d make fun of me.”

An embarrassing confession, but the least embarrassing of the options. She couldn’t exactly tell him his answer made her brain horny for him.

“Why?”

She struggled to shift gears. When she did, she shrugged. “I don’t talk to people much. I always worry I’m going to say something weird or awkward when I do.”

“Like commenting on someone’s teeth?”

Her lips twitched. “Maybe.”

His mouth eased into a smile. “Is that why you’re hiding here? You don’t want to talk to the people out there?”

“Pretty much.” Her arms fell from her chest, and she rested her book at her thighs. “You don’t have to stay with me. I have my own entertainment.” She lifted the book slightly.

“I’d rather stay here than socialize out there.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re hiding, too.”

“No.”

“Jacob.”

“Okay, fine.” He sat on the bed. “I’m only here because Seth thinks I work too much. Which, as your earlier comment about his birthdays highlighted, seems true.” Did he realize he was still denying working too much? “I thought attending one of his parties would get him off my back. This is a loophole I hadn’t considered. Technically, I’m attending, right?” He frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

“I, too, am here to brush off Seth’s concerns about my working habits.”

“Is that so?” He angled his head. “Welcome to the club.”

“Thank you,” she said with a mock bow. “Our first meeting is going swimmingly, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

He smiled; she smiled. And for a good solid minute, they both smiled. Like fools. Then the air shifted subtly, sparkled almost, as her eyes swept over that dimple and straight teeth.

The kindness in the lines of his face.

The way what he said sounded like something a prototype of the perfect man would say rather than an actual, real-life man.

She took a step back. He was hero material. A Good Man. The kind she’d written after Carlton. She had never met a man like that outside her novels. Yet here Jacob was, in a T-shirt and jeans, smiling right in front of her. No wonder there was a wave of desire crashing over her.

No, wait—desire? Honest-to-goodness desire? Feelings of interest and heat in places that hadn’t felt interested or hot for anyone in her real life since . . . since . . .

She couldn’t remember.

It was time for a pep talk.

Okay, Gaia. You know what’s happening. It’s called attraction. You happened to see Jacob without his shirt on and he’s sexy. He grew into those weird skinny-but-broad shoulders he used to have. Sure, those shoulders are padded with muscle now, but so are your biceps, and you know that means jack shit where they’re concerned.

Her self-talk tended to be more vulgar than her usual talk, but since it was working, she didn’t pause to judge herself.

Sure, his dimples are cute as hell. Even those dark, unruly eyebrows of his are attractive. Dangerous over those black/brown eyes and paired with that self-deprecating grin? Lethal. But none of that has to mean anything. Of course it doesn’t. You’re a grown woman who can control her impulses. And Jacob is as safe as—

She froze. Took a few seconds to thaw.

Why would she think he was safe? No one was. Not in this world. The only safe people were the ones she wrote herself. She knew who they were then. Could anticipate their actions. She wrote those actions.

None of those people could steal her breath away by unexpectedly hurting her. Letting her down, abandoning her. Even Jacob, with his sexy body and sweet smile, was a human in the real world. She’d learned firsthand she couldn’t trust those.

He was having inappropriate thoughts about his older brother’s best friend.

To be fair, even if she were a stranger, Jacob would call the thoughts inappropriate. What other explanation was there for imagining what it would be like to act on the electricity pulsing inside his body? He clenched his fists. Relaxed them when he thought that might make him look like a creep prone to violence. Forced himself to take a breath.

“Seth really talks to you about my working habits, huh?” he asked lightly, hoping she didn’t hear the faint strain in his voice. “He must have been more upset about me missing birthdays than he told me.”

Of course, it wasn’t only birthdays. Jacob worked through most special days. Hell, he worked most nights. He needed to keep his business on track. Scott Brand Solutions bore his name—his family’s name. But he made up for the days he missed. A birthday dinner after the fact. Regular meetups for drinks. It was weird that Seth seemed bothered by Jacob’s absence. Jacob was working at the family company because of Seth, after all.

“Honestly? No. He doesn’t talk about you that much. If it makes you feel better,” she said at his frown, “it’s probably because he can’t stop talking about my working habits.”

He smiled. “He doesn’t understand your dislike of people?”

“It’s not that I don’t like people.” She paused. Wrinkled her nose. “No, it’s that.”

He laughed. She was funny. Not in a stand-up-comedian-tell-you-jokes way, but quirky. Sharp.

“A party sounds extreme for someone who doesn’t like people,” he commented. “You couldn’t offer to go to brunch or something?”

“Is that another jab at my age?” At his look, she elaborated. “Thirty-year-olds do stuffy things like brunch?”

“Why is brunch stuffy?” he asked. “I love brunch.”

“Oh, good,” she said with an exhale. “I do, too.”

He caught the laugh before it escaped.

“As for your question,” she continued. “You don’t refuse the kidnapper when they tell you to pose with a picture of the newspaper for the ransom.”

He was still sitting on Seth’s bed, but he straightened at that analogy. “Are you calling Seth a kidnapper?”

She pursed her lips. “He suggested I come to this party. Brunch wasn’t presented as an option.”

“And that was him asking you to pose with the newspaper?”

“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed by a centimeter. “Maybe that wasn’t the best analogy.”

“Hang on,” he said, stretching out his hand. “Maybe we need to hash it out. Is my brother keeping you here against your will? Literally, I mean,” he added when she opened her mouth. “Did he lock you in this room?”

“You know he didn’t.”

“Do I? I haven’t checked the door.”

“You’re purposefully being vexatious now,” she answered, chin up.

“Bless you.”

She glowered. It was delightful. And though he had no idea what vexatious meant, he liked that she called him it. Liked how sexy she made it sound. Liked that she was glaring at him now, even though her lips were twitching and her eyes were dancing.

“Your presence here tonight should mean you’re free. From the kidnapper,” he clarified.

“Not quite,” she answered. “I think this is the equivalent of me taking the photo, but shouting ‘don’t pay’ into the camera.”

“How exactly would they capture that?”

Her expression went blank, then she snorted. “Why am I still talking to you?”

“To be honest, I’m wondering the same thing.”

There was a short pause before the ends of her mouth tilted up and her cheeks lifted. He could have said she was smiling. He didn’t, because what she was doing didn’t feel like smiling as much as it did the sun shining down on him after a long winter. His skin prickled under its warmth, the temperature seeping into his bloodstream, traveling to his heart. Once there, it thawed ice. . .