Love & Cherry Blossoms Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Amara Kent

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by Marla Esposito of Proof Style

  Cover Design by Lucy Smoke of Smoking Hot Covers

  To those who rose from the ashes and kicked ass. You are the real heroes and heroines

  Blurb

  Don’t ever fall in love. No good can come of it.

  Kerri

  Rule Number One: NEVER sleep with the same man more than once.

  I’m prone to falling for men, hard and too quickly, which has only ever ended badly for me.

  It’s why I gave myself the rule with a strict no-returns policy.

  I’ve never had any issues abiding to it, until he comes barging into my life.

  He’s tall, sexy and oh so arrogant.

  It was only ever supposed to happen once. One sexy experience on the plane, and then we go our separate ways.

  He proposes one more night to trq190-]\ reQwertyui;’/uly show what it’s like to be with him.

  He’s about to make me break my number one rule, and I’m not sure I’ll survive.

  Ren

  Rule Number One: NEVER give a woman your heart again.

  Relationships… they’re more trouble than they’re worth.

  I’m content living my life in the single lane.

  That is, until she wanders into my life.

  She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. Feisty, argumentative and happy to put me in my place.

  We had one amazing experience on the plane, but it wasn’t not enough. I need more.

  She’s making me want things I shouldn’t, and I’m not sure if I’ll survive it.

  Playlist

  JoJo feat. Tory Lanez & 30 Roc - Comeback

  Marian Hill - Got It

  Two Feet - Go Fuck Yourself

  Natalia Kills - Rabbit Hole

  Samantha Jade - In the Morning

  Fugees - Killing Me Softly With His Song

  Taemin - Thirsty

  Beyonce - Partition

  Ciara feat. Justin Timberlake - Love Sex Magic

  Natalia Kills - Not In Love

  Check out the playlist on Spotify!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Sweet Karma

  Message From The Author

  Also by Amara Kent

  Chapter One

  Kerri

  I reach into my bag to retrieve a tissue, nudging Taylor gently for her to take it. With a whispered thank you, she plucks it out of my hand and dabs her eyes, careful not to smear her makeup. I would tease her for it, were it not actually a pretty emotional scene. The blushing bride and dashing groom stand, hands clasped tightly in each other’s, as they gaze lovingly at one another with wide smiles. To think; they were so close to not making it. It took a grueling four months for them to just admit they liked each other. And even with them professing their feelings, it still took another six months for them to kiss. Out of all our clients, they would have to be the longest executed. There were so many times I had thoughts of throwing in the towel and walking away from them. Okay, so they weren’t entirely all thoughts. I made my feelings on them perfectly clear to Taylor. Of course, the new poster child for love had to remind me we had to see them through to the end. I was just grateful I wasn’t eighty by the time they got their shit together.

  “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the priest says warmly.

  Everyone rises to their feet, clapping exuberantly at the happy couple. Toothy smiles all around as we watch them have their first publicly appropriate wedding kiss, as husband and wife.

  “I’m so happy for Heather and Grant,” Taylor gushes next to me.

  A slight smirk lifts on my lips. “Oh, I know. At the end there, I thought I was gonna have to grab a bucket for you, you were blubbering that much,” I tease.

  She slaps me playfully on the arm. “Shut up. After everything we went through with them, you can’t honestly tell me you’re not thrilled we’re standing here right now, witnessing this. There was an actual moment during the whole process, where I was worried they would never get their happily ever after.” She sighs wistfully.

  Amazing. I’ve known Taylor since we were in junior high. She went from a girl who sung nothing but love songs, reciting every romantic comedy to have ever existed, to a tortured and vengeful soul who had not only lost her parents but also her unborn child and fiancé in the span of a decade. For years we had lived this life that was consumed by our own hatred for men. We didn’t care how we treated them, so long as they knew what it felt like to be at the opposite end. To love somebody so much, only to have their world fall at their feet in a beautiful mess of tears. If it hadn’t had been for New York’s finest bachelor, Dean Lukas, neither of us would be standing here. He somehow restored her faith in men and love again.

  Now, I could get all feminist here and say that it shouldn’t take a man to enlighten a woman and that the world is full of women who fail the Bechdel test, and that we seriously need to change the gender issues within society, because such a high percentage of the female population rely on the approval from men. But really, what it boils down to is this; two people who have had an incredibly unfair string of luck have managed to find each other and help declutter some of the baggage that was laying around.

  Just two people.

  “This will be you in six months. The only difference is, I’ll be standing up in the front passing you tissues, instead of being in the crowd of guests.”

  “I can’t wait.” Taylor breathes out.

  “You’re not scared?” I ask. I would be. I would be absolutely mortified. That’s a lot of trust to place on one person. The amount of horror stories I’ve heard from people whose spouses have done a complete one-eighty and changed is astounding. It’s not just a piece of paper that binds you to another person. It’s everything else that comes with it. Trying to abscond from that contract is hard. You’ll eventually move on from the emotional hurt you suffered through, but the stress and depression and financial hardship that comes with it. To me, it’s never worth it.

  Because really; how well do you truly know a person?

  “Not scared. Jittery, but definitely not scared,” she responds. We both clap as Heather and Grant make their way down the aisle. They both throw us a wink, and Heather also blows us a kiss, mouthing thank you.

  “I guess I wouldn’t be either,
if I was marrying Dean. I don’t think there is anybody in this world that loves a person more than he loves you. It’s rather sickening how much of a pussy he becomes when he’s around you, thinking of you, or even if your name is mentioned. You could literally ask him to chop off his own dick and he’d ask what with.”

  Taylor shakes her head, laughing. “He would not,” she argues, but there is no conviction in her tone. She knows my comment rings true.

  “Are we talking about the same man here?” I ask. “This is the man who just recently carried you across the road so your new and rather expensive shoes wouldn’t get ruined.”

  She giggles, before a look of concern shadows her face. “I just wish he would calm down a bit. Ever since we’ve gotten engaged, he’s become more protective of me. Aren’t guys supposed to become relaxed after they’re engaged, not worse?” She sighs with exasperation.

  “Girl, that’s not protective, that’s possessive and territorial. He wants every guy—no, person—to know you’re his. Gay, straight, bi, curious; it doesn’t matter, they all need to know. He’s lifting his leg up and pissing on you for good measure. Marking you with his scent.”

  She crinkles her nose. “What a wonderful image you’ve created,” she drawls.

  “You’re the one walking around with piss on you,” I state ingenuously, as we make our way to the front doors of the church.

  A few women give us disgusted and dirty looks. Taylor laughs nervously, slapping my back a little too hard. “She’s only joking.”

  “That hurt you know,” I grumble.

  “You deserved it,” she throws back.

  We make it through the doors and step aside, onto the grass. We spot a couple of women who recognize us from our TV show, Playing Cupid, who wave a little too cheerfully at us before turning to advise their friends of who we are.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay for the reception?” she asks in a last ditch effort to make me stay.

  I shake my head. “You know I’m flying out tonight.”

  “I know, but how am I going to put up with those two?” She nods her head in their direction.

  “Just politely tell them to piss off and leave you alone,” I advise.

  “I can’t do that!” we both exclaim in unison.

  Taylor hits me with a look. “You need to stop doing that,” she grumbles.

  “Then quit being so predictable. I know you’ve recently begun your transformation into a pile of goo, but at least have a bit of a spine before you completely turn into a blob.”

  “You’re becoming cynical with old age,” she retorts.

  “What do you mean, becoming? I’ve always been this cynical. You’re only just noticing because you’re turning into a blob shooting rainbows, kittens, and glitter out your ass.”

  “Do you think I could convince Dean to come here?” she asks.

  “As much as he loves you, he loves Chloe more, and there is no way you’re going to be able to tear father-daughter time. You’ll be fine.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t have to deal with those two over there. Are you sure you can’t even stay for a little while?”

  “No way.” I shake my head.

  “What time is your flight again?” she asks.

  “Ten fifteen, need to be there by seven fifteen.”

  She glances at her watch. “You have heaps of time. You only live half an hour away from JFK,” Taylor whines, pouting.

  I hit her with a look, crossing my arms. “You know my routine when it comes to flying, Taylor. Don’t try and change it.”

  “I wonder if Heather will mind me skipping the reception.”

  “You won’t do that. She paid for you, and there is no way you’re going to do something so disrespectful to her. Look, if the women get too much for you, just let Heather know. I’m sure she’ll be fine to have a word with them.”

  “I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

  “Oh my God, you’ve gone soft. Seriously, we can no longer be friends if this is how you’ll continue to act. You and Dean are just two pussies, pussying out on each other. Gross.”

  “One day you’ll know what it’s like,” she says softly.

  “Doubt it. If I ever do, promise me you’ll have me put down?” I ask in jest.

  Taylor holds up crossed fingers. “Promise.”

  Chapter Two

  Kerri

  I’m not a fan of airports. There are too many people and they all have a habit of being annoying. I love traveling though, and unfortunately, that’s the price I have to pay. On the upside, I’m lucky to be able to fly in first class. I know, such a pretentiously snobby thing to say. And I know, the very existence of classes is absurd, and if we’re to truly break down the paradigm of segregating people, we need to quit compiling everyone into categories that satisfy the man. The thing is, though… it’s so damn good, especially for someone who is not a lover of people. But Kerri, your entire profession is to meet and help people, I hear you say, and you would be one hundred percent correct. It still doesn’t change my illogical way of thinking. I have my rules, though. I’m an economy girl all the way when traveling within the country, but get me on a flight that’s longer than eight hours, and I need comfort. That’s really what it’s all about. I’m not the best sleeper, and knowing that I can recline back and relax and be rocked to sleep by the motions of the plane moving through the air, is wonderful.

  With a glass of a double shot of Baileys and milk in hand, I move over to one of the soft padded seats situated along the window within the lounge. Placing the glass on the little tray of the armrest, I remove my tablet from its protective casing—or condom, as I like to refer to it as—and switch it on. A notification banner, advising me that I have fifty unread emails pops up on the screen and I groan.

  “Is everything okay?” a deep voice asks next to me. I look up into the deepest pools of coffee-brown I have ever laid eyes on, on a face that is chiseled and tanned and… Well, fuck me sideways, on my back, knees, and every position you can think of; this guy is gorgeous.

  You know the kind of guy that knocks you dead? It’s either some guy you’ve passed on the street or a celebrity. Their attractiveness can’t be defined by words like sexy and handsome, because they transcend all of them. No word that is known within any language is fitting. That is the kind of next-level gorgeous this guy is. He’s grabbed my breath and yanked it from my body. Because who needs air?

  I quickly gather myself when I find I’ve been gawking at him like a loser. The smirk on his face tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he loves it. Of course, he does. Men like him know the effect they have on everyone. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a lot of work emails,” I respond with a nervous giggle.

  Oh, come on, Kerri, get a hold of yourself.

  “Working holiday?” he asks. The rich tone of his voice makes the words he speaks mellifluous, sending a shiver right down my spine.

  I shake my head. “Holiday, holiday.”

  His brows pinch together, forming creases on his forehead. “Then why would you punish yourself by looking at your work emails?”

  “I’m not. I switched on my tablet to read a book and it alerted me to the shit-fuck amount of emails I have.”

  He releases a hearty laugh. He needs to quit talking to me. If he doesn’t move away, I feel as if I may just suffocate under his presence and die. And you, missy, need to stop being so overdramatic. “I see. I guess I should leave you to it then. It was a pleasure talking to you.”

  Oh, the pleasure was all mine. I watch as he walks away. Forcing my attention back to my tablet, I open up the last book I was reading.

  “Flight JT587 to Tokyo, Japan is now ready for boarding. Please make your way to Gate Fifteen,” the announcer’s voice breaks through the speakers.

  I managed to finish the book just in time, packing my things and making my way to the gate.

  Taylor:

  I hate you and hope you have a horrible time in Japan. I was so miser
able at the wedding without you. Those damn women wouldn’t leave me alone!

  Kerri:

  Couldn’t tell. The constant messages you sent me sure didn’t read that way ;o)

  Taylor:

  You suck

  Taylor:

  Still hate you

  Taylor:

  Have a safe flight and a good trip. Take lots of photos for me! And please find yourself a hot holiday fling

  XX Tay

  I release a little chuckle at her messages. The entire time I was in the lounge, she had been messaging me about how torturous the women were. Honestly, the number of times my phone dinged, I’m surprised I even got any reading done. A man politely taps me on the shoulder, letting me know that it’s my turn to board. I give an apologetic smile and nod, walking up to the desk and handing my ticket over to the clerk.

  “Thank you, Miss Bradford. Please take the ramp to the left. I hope you enjoy your flight.”

  “Thank you.”

  Strolling along happily, I make my way up the ramp as instructed, meeting the stewardess with a sense of elation and giddiness.

  “Good evening and welcome to Kaison Airlines. May I see your ticket, please?” she greets me. I hold it out for her and she takes it from me and then hands it back. “Miss Bradford, please take the stairs on your left. When you’re up the top, one of our lovely stewardesses will show you to your seat.”