The bells over the door of the boutique chime as I enter the shop, letting the warm, early-spring air in with me.

But inside, it’s spring time too, with fresh roses and daisies and peonies, and orchids, and every other kind of flower you’d want, at every price point, and in every color.

“Now that is a show-stopper,” Maggie says, tapping the toe of her black stiletto on the shiny white marble tile.

“You like?” I say, spinning around in my little white dress.

“Like? No, Anna. Like is not the word.”

This dress is simple. It doesn’t have a low-cut back, or a lot of bling, and it’s not a gown like I was used to wearing before.

I hurry over to the counter, where I have my appointment book open and ready for the day.

“We have a really nice girl coming in first,” Maggie says, coming over and resting her elbows on the counter across from me. “I have a few looks pulled for her. She actually wants something in black lace for her ceremony and reception.”

“Goth?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “That’s actually pretty refreshing.”

“She’s actually not,” Maggie says, “just wants something a little bit different.”

As I’m flipping through my appointment book, I’m astounded that Maggie and I have been able to get so much business so quickly.

We started our own dress shop. There was nothing wrong with the other shop - not at all - even though the big boss was a little bit pushy and domineering at times. Still, I liked it. I actually loved it there. But now, this shop is all mine and Maggie’s. It’s not like a funhouse in here anymore. I don't have mirrors attached to every single surface. We have a few mirrors in the dressing rooms, but I want the brides to feel the dresses after they’ve found something they’re satisfied with. I want them to find the perfect dress, and then focus on their perfect day without having to check themselves over and over to make sure they’re perfect.

They’re already perfect.

While I’m flipping through my appointment book, I hear the chimes over the door again.

I look up to see Liam, as devastatingly handsome as the day he nearly passed right by me on the sidewalk.

On the day that wasn’t supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

Well, turns out that it was. So far.

“Internet sensation Liam Harmon decided to shut down his blog today,” he says, reading from the top fold of a copy of the New York Post, “to focus on more important things. When asked what spurred his decision, the thirty-two-year-old heir to the Harmon Media empire said simply that he didn’t want attention from so many people anymore. He said he found a girl he wants to focus all his attention on. His father, Nathaniel Harmon, who started Harmon Media Group in the late 1970s, also announced today that his oldest son Liam will be taking over as President of the company, effective next month. Shortly after the announcement, stock prices hit an all-time high.”

He looks up at me from the paper and flashes me a smile that makes my damn heart soar.

And I look down at my own copy of the paper, already out on the counter next to my appointment book.

“In a move that shocked Wall Street investors, Liam elected to use the stock dividends from his sudden windfall as fiscal-year-end bonuses for the entire staff, company-wide.”

“Damn,” Maggie says under her breath, looking down at her perfectly-manicured fingernails.

“I didn’t want to read that last part out loud,” Liam says, leaning against the counter next to Maggie. “I didn’t want to come off like I was bragging.”

“Bragging?” I say, tipping my chin down at him and raising an eyebrow. “Remember when I first met you and you said you sometimes get confused for a cartoon prince? Or how you orchestrated a crowd of women literally running after you through the streets of Manhattan?”

“Was I bragging when I did that,” he says, putting his elbow on the counter, “or was I just taking an opportunity to put myself in the best light?”

“Whichever one it is, I guess you won’t be doing much of that stuff anymore, huh?” Maggie says. “All your sites shut down yet?”

“Well, you know you can never really delete anything from the internet. But yeah, I’m not going to be putting out any new content.”

“That’s a shame,” I say, “because I actually just started following you. I was looking at your pictures last night.”

“With me lying in bed next to you? Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“Weirder than posting your butt for the whole world to see?” I laugh.

“Fair point. But you’re right, it is a shame that I’m not going to be online anymore. You’re gonna have to do enough posting for the both of us.”

That’s another thing Maggie and I started doing. We now have a joint social media account for the shop, where we post photos of real women wearing the dresses we sell.

“I think I’m gonna have to,” I say, “we are super busy, and I don’t want it to ever end. I’m having a blast.”

“Oh,” Liam says, putting his newspaper down on top of mine, “before I officially shut it down, I want you to check something I posted on my blog while I was in the car over here. Just real quick.”

“Liam, it’s not that I don’t want to see your abs, but Maggie and I have to get ready for our first appointment,” I say, taking my phone out, “but okay. Just real quick.”

I open up Liam’s blog and scroll past thing’s he’s shared: pictures of Corgi puppies, vegetarian recipes, flower arrangements in every color of the rainbow, photos of little girls in ballet costumes, women with weathered faces and deep wrinkles and big smiles, world leaders, diplomats, glossy cakes adorned with sugar flowers, intricately-designed mandalas carved into the side of old Spanish guitars, the skating rink at Chelsea Piers, a photo of me and Maggie in matching pale blue wedding dresses, the mascot from my high school, fireworks, roller coasters, beaches I will never visit, a picture of Liam’s brother and his brother’s wife smiling and Lady-and-the-Tramping a piece of spaghetti, a cup of hot cappuccino with the froth manipulated into an image of a motorcycle helmet, a whole world of experiences and people and things that make me think bigger and dream wider and smile brighter, until I get to the last picture, and my heart stops.

I feel myself breathe in deeply, and exhale slowly, and I feel the corners of my eyes prick with the beginnings of hot tears.

It’s a ring.

And the caption is simple:

Marry Me.

I look up from my phone.

Liam is holding up a ring. The ring from the photo.

He comes around the counter, and he gets down on one knee.

His smile, his eyes, his heart.

I want all of it. All of him.

“I have a very important question to ask you,” he says, taking my hand.

And I look up past him, past the big clear window onto the street, where a crowd of people - young people, old people, people who look like students and punks and snobby old ladies with pearls and dog walkers, street vendors, people of every color and ethnicity and social status and group - and they’re all holding up big, fat, fake rings.

“Liam,” I choke out, “I don’t know what to say.”

“The people out there are just for show,” he says, “I’m the real thing, baby. I want you. Forever. And I have the real rock right here to prove it. Marry me.”

“Yes,” I say, letting the tears fall freely down my cheeks “Yes, a million billion times yes.”

He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly.

It feels perfect.

He is perfect. We are perfect.

“I hope this is the best day of your life, Anna. And then, tomorrow, I hope that’s the best day of your life. I want to work every single damn day to make your day better and brighter than the one before.”

“I love you, Liam,” I say as he embraces me.

“I love you too.”

And then I hear Maggie clapping, and the people outside clapping, and it’s anything but for show.

It’s real.

This was by far my favorite book to write…so far! And I have so much more planned. More cuteness, more steaminess. But if you haven’t caught up with all of my HEAs yet, I’ve included two bonus novellas to hold you over until my next release. Flip to the next page for more!