An everlasting amour, p.1
An Everlasting Amour, page 1
An Everlasting Amour
A Variety of Short Stories
Tabetha Waite
Copyright © 2022 Tabetha Waite
Main Cover by Mandy Kohler Designs
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This title is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to photocopy, digital, auditory, and/or in print, without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations for a review.
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Foreword
This is a collection of short stories that have been published over a particular span of time that I decided to put into one neat little collection.
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“The Journey Toward Hope” was featured in the Romance Cafe Anthology for Breast Cancer Research - Wrapped Up In Love
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There are moments when you just know something is worth fighting for…
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Hope Daventry wants to live her life and find love again after surviving breast cancer, but she isn’t sure how to go about it — or even if she’s brave enough to try.
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Cole Anders runs a support group for survivors. He wants to help those who have suffered with this terrible disease. When he meets Hope he’s instantly drawn to her, but when two people have already been through so much, how much more are they willing to journey?
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“Love’s Frozen Kiss” was featured in the Otherworld anthology - A Hauntingly Romantic Winter
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Prince Vale meets a mysterious woman in the Forest of Golden, cursed with an eternal winter by the Frost Wizard. But can their love thaw the curse over Andalusian, or will they be doomed to live in bitterness forever?
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“Love Out of the Ashes” was featured in the OSRBC writers paranormal sexy shorts collection - Moonlight, Monsters & Magic
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Laura Tipton is haunted by a tragedy from the past, one that has left her physically and emotionally scarred. Markus Henley is a professor from the Midwest who prefers the life of a playboy after his divorce. It isn’t until a chance encounter brings these two lost souls together, where a sensuous whirlwind relationship ensues, that Markus finds it isn’t just Laura’s spirit that he awakens - but his own heart as well.
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“The Magic Shield” was a fantasy adventure that I wrote specifically for my youngest daughter
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Ainthe Carter is a simple teenage girl. Or so she thought. However, the moment she turns seventeen, strange things start to happen, such as the reflection of a strange boy in her bedroom mirror.
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Liam is on Earth to look after a girl who has the power of the Magic Shield. The problem is that she is being rather stubborn. She thinks he’d just a figment of her imagination, so he has to figure out a way to gain her trust.
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But will it cost them both everything they hold dear?
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“Thistles & War” was a charity anthology for WOTR and Thistle Farms - Take Two, Second Chance Stories
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The American Civil War has ended, but the devastation is just beginning.
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Amaryllis has only wanted one thing, to see her husband, Elman, return home safe. But when her wish is granted, the scarred Union soldier who has returned to Georgia isn’t the man she once loved, but neither is she the woman he left. Together, they must face the challenges that life has harshly taught them and hopefully, find a way to make it back to each other.
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“Wands at the Ready” was another fantasy adventure, but this time for my oldest daughter. And you might recognize who is the featured cover model!
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Owen Mersone is a simple farrier, or so he believes. But when a mysterious sorceress ninja, Elloriam, travels through time from the future to claim she needs his help in order to fight off a terrifying foe called the Silence, he has to make a decision between his life—or hers.
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“A Bluestocking for Christmas” was featured in an original short story collection - Merry Christmas Belles and Rakehells
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Miss Cleo Brooks has never cared much for society, but her stepmother insists that she rub elbows with her peers and try to snag a husband. A quest that is easier said than done, for Cleo isn’t the English rose that most suitors prefer. A bluestocking who enjoys Marzipan far too much, she is quite sure her task is futile—until one man finally sees the woman inside.
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Darian Hughes, the Earl of Montreaty, has just lost everything. An inveterate gambler, he sets out to replenish his coffers before society learns that he’s ruined. He meets an enchanting woman at a ball, but it isn’t until she comes to him with a proposal does he realize that the one thing he’s been missing in his life has finally arrived in the form of a true, Christmas miracle.
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I hope that you enjoy all of these short tales! From fantasy, to contemporary, from historical, and mild to steamy, this is definitely a collection for every pallet!
Also by Tabetha Waite
Ways of Love Historical Romance Series
How it All Began for the Baron (Christmas prequel novella)
Why the Earl is After the Girl (Book 1)
Where the Viscount Met His Match (Book 2)
When a Duke Pursues a Lady (Book 3)
Who the Marquess Dares to Desire (Book 4)
What a Gentleman Does for Love (Book 5)
Season of the Spinster Series
Triana’s Spring Seduction (Book 1)
Isabella’s Secret Summer (Book 2)
The Spinster’s Alluring Season (Book 2.5)
Alyssa’s Autumn Affair (Book 3)
Korina’s Wild Winter (Book 4)
Wanton Wastrels
The Rapscallion’s Romance
The Marauder’s Mistress
Novellas
Bedeviling Lord Coxford
The Brunette Who Stole His Heart (A Tale of Two Brunettes – Book 1)
In Love with a Charming Brunette (A Tale of Two Brunettes – Book 2)
The Harlot’s Hero
Frozen Fancy
A Captivating Compromise
Novels
Behind a Moonlit Veil
The Secrets of Shadows
The Piper’s Paramour
Kiernan Fantasy Series
The Kingdoms of Kiernan (Kiernan – Book 1)
Collections
An Everlasting Amour (A collection of short stories)
An Everlasting Christmas Amour
An Everlasting Regency Amour
Heyer Society (non-fiction essays)
Tabetha Waite began her writing journey at a young age. At nine years old, she was crafting stories of all kinds on an old Underwood typewriter. She started reading romance in high school and immediately fell in love with the genre. She gained her first publishing contract with Etopia Press and released her debut novel in July of 2016 - “Why the Earl is After the Girl,” the first book in her Ways of Love historical romance series. Since then, she has become a hybrid author, published with both Soul Mate and Radish Fiction, as well as transitioning into Indie publishing. She has won several awards for her books.
She is a small town, Missouri girl who continues to make her home in the Midwest with her husband and two wonderful daughters. When she’s not writing novels filled with adventure and heart, she is either reading, or searching the local antique mall or flea market for the latest interesting find. You can find her on most any social media site, and she encourages fans of her work to join her mailing list for updates.
www.authortabethawaite.wix.com/romance
Copyright © 2021 by Tabetha Waite
All rights reserved.
Image courtesy of Pexels
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This story is for my cousin, Susan, who came out swinging, and for my aunt, Ruthie, who lost the fight with this terrible disease much too early. And I would be remiss if I didn’t give a nod to my lovely reader, Sherry Gloag, who inspired this story’s title.
Chapter 1
The snow was falling silently around Hope Anne Daventry as she stared up at the unassuming building in front of her. To any other passerby, it looked like any other doctor’s office establishment, lit up from the dark from the nearby streetlamps. With the red brick and metal exterior with its countless windows, she knew the interior would reveal a comfortable sitting area and a receptionist’s desk. A short hallway would lead to a set of elevators with a board that listed various physicians’ names and room numbers.
For Hope, the sight never failed to make her cringe.
Over the past several months, she had made it through a double mastectomy and several rounds of chemotherapy and radiation treatments at this very spot. It had all been to cure the unseen disease that was trying to destroy her body from the inside out. She crossed her arms
When she’d first received the diagnosis of that dreaded ‘C’ word, she had just started a new job at a law firm. It sounded a lot more prestigious than it was, for she was only a legal secretary, but she had been excited to begin a new opportunity. She was finally becoming established in her field of choice after achieving her bachelor’s degree the spring before and working odd jobs to support her way through school.
At twenty-five she was actually starting to feel as if she was on the path to success. She had a boyfriend, Roger, and an apartment of her own downtown, just a couple blocks from where she worked. She knew Chicago winters could be harsh, so she was fortunate to have found lodgings so conveniently located. She’d even dropped a few pounds because of her choice to walk to work instead of taking the public transport. She’d made friends with two of the women at the firm within days of starting and had even grabbed a few drinks on Friday night.
Life had been great—and then it had abruptly changed.
Hope wasn’t even sure when she’d first noticed that her left nipple wasn’t quite right. Even when she had been intimate with Roger, he had never said anything about a marked difference between her breasts, but then perhaps he hadn’t really noticed that one of her nipples was inverted—what would eventually become the beginning of the end of their relationship.
Looking back, she realized that they had started to drift apart long before her diagnosis. When she’d finally decided to have things checked out, and the results had come back with the news no one wants to hear, he’d stood by her through the worst, but when she was told that she might not be able to conceive after the chemo treatments, Roger finally said he couldn’t handle it anymore. He had come from a large family and that’s what he wanted, so he’d left.
As if becoming sterile from cancer was something she’d aspired to.
Hope shook off her misgivings and took a deep breath, watching as she exhaled in a large white cloud in front of her. She huddled into the warmth of her wine colored coat and wiped the hair out of her face with her gloved hands as a brisk wind blew past. She supposed she ought to be thankful that she hadn’t lost her hair when so many others were forced to wear a handkerchief or a wig to cover their condition. In fact, if anyone were to see Hope walking down the street, they might never have guessed that she had fought for her right to live just a few short months ago.
At least the firm had held her position, allowing her to do some of the work from home, permitting her to convalesce the days after her treatments when her strength had waned and she’d had trouble keeping anything down.
But now that she was finally on the upswing of things, the anger and depression had settled in. One might have thought it would have been present at the onset of her diagnosis, but it wasn’t until the initial shock and the determination had passed that her bleak future began to sink in. She had recently turned twenty-seven years old. She still had a career, however tentative, in spite of her numerous absences, but her hopes and dreams of a husband and family had withered and faded away.
Hope was standing here now because her coworker, Tiffany, had convinced her to attend one of the weekly cancer survivor meetings. Hope had initially rolled her eyes, saying that it wasn’t a dating service, but when another Friday night had started to become unbearable, the same episodes of ‘Friends’ she’d seen hundreds of times on the television, she’d grabbed her coat and hailed a taxi.
Now, here she stood, almost too anxious to even walk through those same glass doors. She wouldn’t be going up to the oncology floor, but still her feet refused to move.
Finally, Hope straightened her shoulders and dug deep for the courage to move forward. If I don’t like it, I don’t have to return, she told herself more than once.
She found the room easily enough, but then, it was six o’clock in the evening on a Friday night. Most people were out to dinner or having drinks at the local bar, not attending some support group because they had nothing better to do.
Before she made her presence known, she heard the sound of feminine voices, mixed with a few hints of laughter coming from within. As she dared herself to turn the corner, Hope found several women, some already seated in the half-circle of chairs, while others were chatting and taking advantage of the bottled water and cookies that were available.
Hope tried to sneak past everyone without being noticed and find a seat toward the back where she could dart out easily, but a dark-skinned woman spied her entrance. “Ah! We have a new arrival!” she announced to the room, causing nearly every pair of eyes to turn in Hope’s direction.
She reluctantly held up a hand and offered a brief smile as the African American woman walked over to her. She wore a colorful scarf over her head, her smile just as brilliant. She stuck out a hand to Hope. “My name is Melasia Nevins. I’m the coordinator here.”
“Hope Daventry.”
“Welcome, Hope.” She winked. “Let me introduce you to some of our regulars so you’ll feel a bit more comfortable.” Melasia, who looked to be about Hope’s age, led her over to the group of four women she’d been standing with. She indicated a middle-aged woman with long, black hair and brown eyes with a lovely, warm brown skin tone. “This is Mary Hawkins. She’s half Cherokee.” After Hope had shook her hand, Melasia added, “She found chemo to be too difficult, so she’s decided to treat her illness with faith and medicinal herbs.”
The next woman she introduced was a bit older with short, brown hair, as if it was just starting to grow out from previous treatments. “This is Frances Halloway,” Melasia said. “This is her second round with cancer. It started out as ovarian, and ten years later, she was told she had it in her breast.”
“How awful,” Hope murmured, although her doctors had warned her of the same possibility. Apparently female organs were more closely connected than she’d imagined.
“It wasn’t pleasant,” Frances agreed with a shrug. “But it’s all water under the bridge now, as they say.”
Hope nodded, wishing that she could be as positive and nonchalant as this woman.
“And there’s our speaker.” Melasia nodded to a point beyond Hope’s shoulder. She turned back to her. “I suppose we should take our seats and save the rest of the introductions for later. We don’t want to get into trouble with Mr. Anders.” She chuckled as she took a seat in the circle, the other ladies doing the same.
Mr. Anders? Hope couldn’t risk glancing over her shoulder at the man who walked over to grab a water bottle from the refreshment table. Her brows lifted as she removed her coat and gloves and sat down beside Melasia, but it wasn’t just in surprise that a man would be in charge of the meeting and everyone seemed comfortable with this. But rather, he was nice to look at. He had short brown hair and features that were rather properly proportioned. In snug-fitting jeans and a navy, cable knit sweater, he was actually quite handsome.
However, Hope quickly pushed such thoughts aside, for as much as Tiffany from the law office liked to play matchmaker, she wasn’t ready to embark on another empty relationship and have her heart broken again.
The man Melasia had called Mr. Anders sat just beyond the opening to the half-circle of chairs. He glanced around at the assembled women, about ten or twelve in all, his brown eyes lingering on her for a bit longer than the rest. Hope assumed it was because she was new.
