The first story in Love Ever After, Heartache in Heels, is now available for pre-order on Kobo, Nook, and Apple Books! Amazon’s coming – don’t worry 🙂
If the story looks a little familiar, that’s because it was previously released as Ghostly Love. I’ve expanded and significantly changed the story for it’s re-release as Heartache in Heels. While there are some similarities, the story is quite different and much longer.Â
Here’s a snip, raw and unedited, just for you!
***begin snip***
I wouldn’t kill for the right wardrobe.
Maim? Possibly, but only an old pair of jeans that would rock as cut-offs. Okay, that was a few seasons ago, but the point remains that while I love clothes (and shoes—let’s not forget shoes), I’m not completely off my rocker.
My family, my friends, and an ex-boyfriend or two think I’m obsessed.
I say I’m committed.
As a professional shopper, it’s literally my job. Granted, it’s one of my many jobs…part-time personal shopper, part-time blogger, part-time dog walker, and part-time errand-runner. I’m aware that’s a lot of part-times, but a girl’s gotta pay her bills and—this is the important part—for at least part of the week, people pay me to shop.
Best. Job. Ever.
And also what’s brought me to my fave vintage clothing shop on this gorgeous morning.
I’m at Every Woman’s Fairy Godmother today because I need to make my client feel fabulous.
The right slinky slip dress, one with silk lining and seams that feel like they’re not even there, can make a gal feel sexy.
But if my client needs the equivalent of a full body hug, then stretchy skinny jeans (the kind that hide flaws instead of showcasing them) and an incredibly soft cotton tee paired with a handknit sweater might be the way to go.
That is the beauty of my job—the beauty of my favorite job. I can lift a client’s mood with the right outfit. Make her feel sexy or flirty or just a little more comfortable in her own skin. All I needed was a good understanding of my client’s needs, a decent sense of style, and a practically magical source of fab fashion.
Enter Madelaine and Every Woman’s Fairy Godmother.
If I needed a special gown, a unique accessory, or a killer pair of heels, Madeline waved her magical fashion wand and somehow made it happen. Her vintage store was always stocked with the classy, cutting edge, nostalgic, hip, or beautifully tailored item I needed.
And on the rare occasions it wasn’t in the store? She utilized her fairy godmother connections to hook me up with the piece I needed.
She had to have ridiculous connections to keep her shop stocked and all of the special orders that came her way filled. And the weirdest part? She had this crazy successful business that had been around for at least a decade, and I’d almost swear we were around the same age. Maybe she was over thirty and used great skin care products? I was pretty sure she hadn’t hit forty.
But then I’d catch her in a cute pair of jeans, a fitted tee, and almost no make-up—like today—and I’d bet the La Perla gift certificate I’d been hanging onto for a special occasion that she wasn’t more than twenty-three.
She was that kind of woman, agelessly gorgeous, but occasionally mind-bogglingly youthful.
I could almost believe she was magical—except that was cra-cra.
“Hillary!” Madeline called out with a cheery wave when she spotted me. “How’s my second favorite client doing today?”
“Cute. You know I outclass Edgar in every way.” I didn’t. Not even close. Edgar was a full-time personal shopper with a posh client list I liked to drool over. He was also the wonderful man who’d turned me onto the best career ever and a great mentor.
Madeleine didn’t argue, but she did give me a cheeky grin, letting me know that the day of me outclassing Edgar had most definitely not arrived.
Someday, I’d have enough of a client list to ditch the dog-walking and the errands.
Someday, but not today. Today, I had a midday appointment with a chihuahua in possession of an itsy-bitsy bladder and a bark that could shatter glass.
Since I didn’t want to clean up pee or upset Sugar, both of which would happen if I was even five minutes late, I retrieved the list in my bag and handed it to Madeleine. “I’ve got a few very special requests. Mrs. Peter Swinden.”
We shared a look.
The list would most certainly be special order items, hence my passing it along to Madeleine. Mrs. Peter Swinden didn’t have taste that aligned with either Madeleine’s or my own…or anyone else who would shop at Every Woman’s Fairy Godmother. In fact, her requested items were invariably quite difficult to find because Mrs. Peter Swinden’s taste didn’t align with very many other people’s.
Oh, and the Mrs. Peter thing? I’m not making fun of my client. She actually introduces herself as Mrs. Peter Swinden. Who does that? Mrs. Peter Swinden, apparently.
While I couldn’t be too terribly finicky about my clients at this stage of my budding business’s development, I would have cut Mrs. Peter and her truly terrible fashion sense loose, but for two facts: she paid ridiculously well, and she was an incredibly kind woman.
It was really the kindness. She was such a warm person. I enjoyed making her happy, even if it meant… My gaze flickered to the list Madeleine was now perusing, and I sighed. Yes, even if it meant finding a Mrs. Roper 1970s muumuu.
“The 70s have come back.” I nodded, as if affirming the statement made the muumuu request less problematic. “A few times.”
“Not this part of the 70s.”
And that was kicker. Definitely not the Mrs. Roper muumuu part of the 70s. Except that part of the 70s had come back for Mrs. Peter Swinden. Or it would be shortly, because Madeleine would help me make it happen.
Mrs. Peter would get her muumuu, and she would be effervescent. Mrs. Peter happy was like a bottle of recently uncorked champagne. The cheap pink stuff, the kind that was fun and fizzy and shouldn’t be saved for extra special occasions but used to celebrate the everyday awesome of life.
And that was why Mrs. Peter was still my client.
Madeleine looked up from the list with a funny look on her face. “Your time is coming.”
I cocked my head, because I wasn’t sure how to take that. I had faith in my business. It wasn’t something I worried about too much, and I was pretty sure that Madeleine knew that.
“You have some other clients to shop for?”
Retrieving my cell from my purse, I lifted it and said, “Yes. And since Sugar’s bladder waits for no one, I’m going to get shopping.”
“All right, but pick something up for yourself today.” As I started to decline, she pointed a finger at me. “Fifty percent off whatever you find. Do it.”
Even though I was extra tight for cash this month, I felt compelled to “do it.” I’d be on the hunt for my clients—but I’d keep an out for myself.
Also, did it get colder in here? The air must have kicked on, because my entire body shivered.
***end snip***
I hope you’re as excited about this story as I am! Hillary is about to get the shock of her (love?) life =)Â
Pre-order now on Kobo, Nook, and Apple Books! (Discounted to $2.99 for pre-order, then the price goes up to $3.99.)
