Beach Brides Series
By
Raine English
Prologue
Amy’s message in a bottle…
Dear Stranger,
Do you believe in fate? By definition, it’s the development of events beyond a person’s control…or in other words, destined to happen. I’ve followed this simple philosophy my entire life and have been relatively happy for most of it. The problem is I’ve yet to meet the person who’s supposed to be my soul mate. But I haven’t given up hope, because if you’re reading this, it is fate, and although I can’t say that we’ll wind up married, at the very least, I know that we’re meant to meet.
Anxiously awaiting your response,
Chapter One
Amy Sheridan pulled the cord on the purple-and-pink neon Open sign, indicating the end of a very busy Saturday at one of Newbury Street’s trendiest boutiques. She slipped off her heels, wiggled her cramped toes, then padded over to the door. Before reaching it, a pretty blonde with her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail and wearing a chic blue sundress entered.
“Always right on time,” Amy said, locking the door behind her. “The back room okay?”
“Works for me.”
Amy made a path, moving boxes of shirts and pants that had come in earlier, so that they could make their way over to the mint-green velvet settee. It was meant to go outside the dressing room as a place to comfortably wait while friends or family tried on clothes, but Amy hadn’t gotten around to moving it there. Besides, it was perfect right where it was for her biweekly appointments with Cherie Camp.
Amy had been seeing the Boston-area psychic ever since returning home from her trip to Enchanted Island three years ago. Before her island adventure, Amy had rarely taken time off, and hadn’t had a vacation since her college Spring Break in Cancun. But she hadn’t been able to turn down the opportunity to meet in person the eleven women from her Romantic Hearts Book Club. They’d been together a long time online, so when the suggestion was brought up that they plan a getaway to a remote Caribbean isle, everyone had jumped at the idea. Her business could survive a week or so without her, and as a matter of fact, it had done more than survive. It did fantastic, proving that her staff was more than capable of running things while she was away, and dispelling her belief that the world would fall apart if she wasn’t around to run it. A controlling workaholic wasn’t how she wanted to be labeled, so learning to relax and let go were just a couple of things Cherie was helping her with, and so far, the psychic was doing much better than Amy’s last therapist.
“What would you like to focus on today?” the soft-spoken blonde asked, taking a seat.
Amy dimmed the lights, then sat next to her, placing her hands on top of the psychic’s open palms. “My book club is planning another trip to Enchanted Island—a reunion.”
“That sounds like fun, so why don’t you look happy? Remember how we’ve talked about all work and no play is bad for your psyche.”
Amy was keenly aware of Cherie’s scrutiny. “I know, I know… And it’s not that I don’t want to see them again, but they’ll all be talking about their marriages or engagements, and look at me, I’ve never even heard from anyone regarding my message.”
When she and the other women had lined up at the water’s edge on their last night on the island to toss their bottles into the ocean, hoping they’d be found by a “dream hero,” many had looked upon it as a lark or a silly game made up while drinking a few too many piña coladas, but she’d felt differently. She’d been sure that fate would lend a hand in helping her soul mate find her message. Only that didn’t happen, and now she’d all but given up on love.
“Your negativity is potent,” Cherie said sourly. “Laws of attraction—you get what you put out there.”
Amy scowled. “So it’s my fault that every day that goes by, I get closer and closer to becoming an old maid?”
Cherie’s look was one of faint amusement. “You’re far from old, but you’re certainly not helping matters.”
Amy puckered her lips. “I don’t care. I don’t need a man anyway. I barely have time for myself, let alone worrying about allocating time for someone else’s needs.”
The psychic lifted a thin brow. “If you really believed that, then you shouldn’t have a problem listening to your friends talk about their love lives.”
Amy huffed. “You’re right. I can’t get anything over on you, can I?”
A small smile curved her full lips. “I’m good at my job.”
“I know.”
“So then, enough chitchat. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Cherie closed her eyes, and her breathing slowed. “I see a man.”
Amy’s heart started to race. “You do? What does he look like?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome.”
“That’s not too cliché.” She did nothing to hide her sarcastic tone.
Cherie partially opened one eye. “It’s true,” she said smugly before closing it again. “He has nearly black hair—cut short, classic features, a deep golden tan, and piercing blue eyes. He’s standing by the water’s edge, holding something that’s glistening in the sun—a wine bottle. Now he’s pulling the cork out and taking out a piece of parchment paper.”
“That’s what I used to write my message on. It came from the pad I keep in my purse.” Excitement coursed through her veins. “Now what’s he doing?”
“He’s smiling as he’s reading the note. You know what this means, don’t you?”
Amy let out the breath she’d been holding. “Not exactly.”
“It means you have to go on that trip to Enchanted Island.” Cherie’s lids flew open, and she stared wide-eyed at Amy as she squeezed her hands. “Pack your bags, lady. You’re going to meet your one true love.”
***End of Excerpt***
Amy
Beach Brides Series
By
Raine English