Visions of Love (Arden's Glen Romance Book 3) Read online

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  VISIONS OF LOVE

  Genre: Contemporary Romance

  Copyright © 2019 by C.M. Albert | Flower Work Press

  Cover by Marisa Rose Wesley of Cover Me Darling LLC

  Cover photography by 4 PM Production

  eBook design by Inkstain Design Studio

  Editing by Erin Servais of Dot and Dash LLC

  Proofreading by Lynn Mullan

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  Visions of Love is dedicated to my soul sisters—Erin, Kenya, and Vicki. The universe finds a way to bring the magic together, doesn’t it?

  It’s also dedicated to all the amazing women out there who are living their truth and are able to embrace both their wild and holy within. Don’t ever change.

  “To live a life fulfilled reflects on the things you have with gratitude.”

  —JAREN DAVIS

  No book is possible without a team of people helping you along the way. My warmest appreciation and gratitude go to the amazing souls who make my life easier, make my books look good, and love me even when I’m hangry.

  I first want to gratefully honor God, Mother Mary, Jesus Christ, my spirit guides, and my team of badass angels; my connection and faith in something bigger than myself, and that which represents the biggest love story imaginable, makes everything worthwhile and possible.

  Erin Servais of Dot and Dash LLC: “Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” ~ Anatole France. To the biggest-hearted editor in the entire world. Don’t get spoiled, but I made sure your name was on one page again!

  Marisa Rose Wesley of Cover Me Darling LLC: You always go above and beyond. I appreciate you more than you know. Thank you for nailing my “vision” for this cover so effortlessly! And thank you for sharing your time, passion, and creativity with me.

  Nadège Richards of Inkstain Design Studio: Magician, social activist, genius, meme Queen . . . Your creativity, drive, and talent both inspires and scares the crap out of me. Don’t slow down. You will rule the world one day.

  Lynn Mullan: I’m so grateful to have you go from recipient of the first ever Eagle Eye Award to my official proofreader! You are the best and I’m so glad you could squeeze me in. I know my books will be so much cleaner after getting a final LM stamp of approval!

  Cody Chase: Much gratitude for coming up with the Halcyon Productions name that I used in this book, as well the name of Connor’s florist shop, Mums N’ Roses—a play on Guns N’ Roses, since it’s owned by Arden’s Glen’s hunky, edgy florist who will be featured in Seeds of Love. You seriously have a gift for this!

  Jen Cooper: Thanks for coming up with the name of Rosalie’s TV show—Mystic Mysteries! It’s a perfect fit for what her show is about. And thank you for being my lifelong bestie—we’ve come a long way, and I love how we’re able to pick right back up where we left off and always end up laughing so hard we nearly wet ourselves! There’s no one else like you.

  To my ride-or-die beta readers: I love you. Like, big time. Thank you to Gwen, Katherine, Keely, Lea, Rorie, and Sand for your help with Visions of Love. It’s a little extra magical because of you.

  My Colleen’s Angels VIP Readers’ Circle: You are the wind beneath my wings, the smile in my day, and my reason for writing. Thanks for showing up and for loving my books as much as I love writing them!

  To all the bloggers, bookstagrammers, fellow authors, and readers who enthusiastically share the word about my books and writing: I am forever in awe of your creativity, passion, and dedication. Thank you for including me in your fold. I appreciate you more than you can ever imagine.

  To Chele, Melissa, Michelle, and Sherricka: I see you, and I appreciate you. Y’all have been such a gift to me, and I’m more grateful for your support than I can even express. I’ll always have your back, too!

  For Candi Kane PR: I am so excited and honored to work with you on this release. The amount of work you put into making this book a success is astounding. Thanks for busting your butt on my behalf and making Visions of Love look so dang good!

  To Elle Thorpe of Images for Authors: I love when the universe aligns me with one of my new favorite authors who also happens to be a graphics and teasers wizard! Girl . . . for real. Who are you? The Australian James Bond? You amaze me with your creativity, passion, and energy. Thank you!

  To all the amazing women at The Shameless Book Club: I never realized that when I accepted your offer to be a signing Showcase Author at the Shameless Book Con, that I would be finding “my tribe” in an even bigger, more magical way. Christine and Angie are inspirations and leaders in professionalism, support, and motivation. And to all the authors I have met through Shameless: I couldn’t imagine my life without you now. We have grown to become each other’s biggest fans, supporters, and friends. When we each grow, we all grow. And of course to all the Shameless readers: your love for reading and your kindness to get to know new authors floors me. I am so proud to count many of you as readers and friends now. Keep being awesome! #ShamelessForever

  To Rebecca Campbell, creator of the Work Your Light oracle cards: Ironically, it was my eight-year-old daughter’s beautiful heart that led me to your gorgeous and inspiring deck of oracle cards. They are so profoundly connected to love, and they’ve given me, my reiki clients, and my friends so much encouragement, inspiration, and insight. I am grateful to you for sharing your light and purpose with others. When my character, Rosalie, needed a deck to consult, yours was the first that came to mind. And of course, there are no coincidences.

  Evan & Gillian: You are the funniest, bravest, kindest humans I know. I am your biggest supporter. Thanks for being mine, too.

  Derek: The only vision I have of love always includes you. Shakira said it best: “You’re a song, written by the hands of God . . . and all the things I deserve for being such a good girl, honey.”

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  SOMETIMES, BEING A psychic medium sucked. Rosalie dropped an order of hot sweet potato fries onto the
table in front of her at her brother’s café and turned on her heels without so much as a “fuck you very much” to the cheater in front of her. She stormed into the kitchen, gripping the concrete countertop for stability while she cleared the images from her mind. Breathe, Rosalie. Breathe.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Brecken asked, leaning against the doorframe with his arms across his broad chest. “Jesus, Rosalie, you can’t treat customers like that. What’s gotten into you?”

  “He is cheating on her, Brecken,” she seethed between clenched teeth. “And that’s not all. If you could see the things I can, you’d know why I’m so pissed. That’s LuLu’s daughter for God’s sake. And . . . who is that dirtbag anyway?” she asked, pulling her long, dark brown hair into a sleek ponytail.

  “Who that dirtbag is and who he fucks is really none of your business, Rosalie. I, personally, need to keep LettuceWrap’s doors open and not go into bankruptcy. In order to do that, I need customers. Paying customers. Not the kind who get up and leave when an order of sweet potato fries gets thrown onto their table by a temperamental waitress,” he said, giving her a pointed stare with his slate gray eyes. “You need to apologize to LuLu later and make this right.”

  Rosalie saw the concern in her brother’s eyes and knew she needed to do the right thing. But it had very little to do with an apology. She didn’t know Annalise very well anymore, despite going through twelve years of school together in their small town of Arden’s Glen. Annalise had been the school’s homecoming queen, not exactly the type of girl to hang out with a social pariah who saw dead people.

  “I’ll handle it, Breck. I promise. But one customer really isn’t going to make a difference. I know things are a little tight these days, but I still have most of my inheritance. You can have it if you need it. It wasn’t quite as big as yours, but what do I care? You know I don’t give two biscuits about money.”

  “Clearly,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’ll be fine, Rosalie. Just keep the temper under check. And maybe don’t go snooping around in our customers’ minds from now on either, okay?” he said, a half-grin lighting his handsome face.

  “I cross my heart,” Rosalie said, brushing by Brecken on her way out of the kitchen. “But I didn’t have to go snooping to read the dirtbag’s mind. He practically threw the images of what he wanted to do with me in my face,” she muttered.

  “I heard that!” Brecken yelled as Rosalie grabbed her purse from behind the cash register and slipped out the front door into the humid afternoon. She wished she’d been smart enough to grab a sweet tea before leaving the café. Luckily, LuLu’s was just one street over.

  She rounded the corner and slammed into a wall of chiseled muscles. Hands steadied her before she could make sense of what happened. When she looked up, Rosalie was standing just inches from the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Ones she remembered all too well from her first run-in with the handsome doctor a couple of months ago at her friends’ get-together.

  “Zade! What a pleasant surprise. It’s been a while,” Rosalie said, taking a big step back. “How are you? Sure is hot out here still, isn’t it?” she rambled.

  “Or maybe it’s just me,” she said, now more than a little self-conscious. She adjusted her white T-shirt, realizing how tight and transparent it must look in the bright afternoon sunlight. The store’s signature lime green lettuce leaf and cartoon rapper were conspicuously placed across the ridge of her generous breasts. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, well aware that Dr. Zampogna’s eyes were scanning over the images—trying to make sense of the play on words.

  He laughed, the sound rich and warm, sending goose bumps up and down Rosalie’s bare arms. “It’s definitely you, Rosalie,” he said, his voice now husky. “I like your shirt, by the way.” His eyes rose from her chest, and Rosalie noticed they were even greener when they were lit with amusement. “That’s clever.”

  Rosalie grinned. “It’s all Brecken. He has a quick sense of humor,” she said, tightening her ponytail as they chatted. “I like your shirt too,” she said, attempting to be funny as she nodded to Zade’s doctor scrubs.

  “Thanks. It’s made out of boyfriend material,” he deadpanned.

  Rosalie’s mouth ran dry, and she involuntarily licked her lips. The lines around Zade’s eyes crinkled, his mouth sliding into a too-sexy-for-his-own-damn-good smirk.

  “Maybe that’s why I didn’t recognize it,” she muttered, half under her breath. “Well, it was nice bumping into you—literally—but I’ve gotta run,” Rosalie said, bolting toward LuLu’s front entrance, which was only a few doors down.

  “Rosalie, wait—” Zade called out.

  But Rosalie couldn’t wait. Instead, she ran to the restroom in LuLu’s, passing the store’s pretty, middle-aged owner—and its namesake—on her way.

  “What’s the rush, Rosalie?”

  “Mild panic attack!” she called over her shoulder, clutching her purse to her side. “Be right out.”

  Rosalie sat on the refurbished, wrought-iron bench in the women’s room, her face feeling clammy to the touch. She leaned over, resting her forearms on top of her legs and taking in ragged breaths as slowly as she could muster until her heart rate began its descent to a semi-normal pace.

  The door to one of the stalls opened, startling Rosalie. Annalise walked out, stopping short when she saw Rosalie. “Uh—are you okay?” she asked. “You look kinda pale. No offense,” she said, washing her hands in the antique farm sink next to where Rosalie sat, mortified.

  “I’m fine. Just . . . needed to catch my breath. I’m better now,” Rosalie said, standing. “In fact, I came to see you.”

  Annalise’s pale blond brows furrowed. “Does this have anything to do with why you threw our order at us at the restaurant?”

  “Look—I can explain. But not here. Can we meet for drinks sometime? Or can I take you out for coffee?” She knew she must sound like a blithering idiot, but Rosalie really needed to talk to Annalise and tell her what she saw. She didn’t really care for the girl, but she loved LuLu, so by extension, she needed to protect Annalise, too.

  “I’m not sure there’s really anything to talk about, Rosalie. You did what you did. It was rude. But I’m going back to California with my boyfriend in a few days and won’t even give a shit about this a week from now,” she said, pulling a pinkish-nude lipstick from her pocket and coating her plump lips. She stood back and took in her reflection, satisfied as she must always be when looking in the mirror. “And you’ll still be stuck in this godforsaken shit hole. Serving fries. And talking to dead people, right? Isn’t that what you do these days, Rosalie?”

  Rosalie didn’t have time to respond before Annalise slipped out of the restroom, leaving her standing there with her mouth gaping open. Whether the girl liked it or not, Rosalie would be having a word with her before she left town. She might not like Annalise, but there was no way she was letting her go home with that dirtbag until she knew what Rosalie had seen.

  But first she walked over to the white, porcelain sink and ran the cold water, splashing it on her face several times to cool the burning in her cheeks. Burning that had nothing to do with Annalise and everything to do with the sexy doctor she’d run into on the street. The one who wanted more than what a few humorous pick-up lines would bring. Sometimes Rosalie cursed her intuitive abilities, and not for the first time that day she wished she could unsee something. She hadn’t meant to snoop either time. But the outcome was the same.

  The feeling that Rosalie sensed when Dr. Zade Zampogna’s eyes locked with hers wasn’t just boyfriend material. It was the seedling of something so much more. And that scared Rosalie far more than anything she’d seen in the twisted mind of Annalise’s boyfriend.

  “FOLD.” ZADE TOSSED his cards onto Mitch’s poker table, distracted and irritable. He hadn’t been able to think about anything except Rosalie’s sexy bedroom eyes all day. Running into her wasn’t quite the accidental surprise she thought it was. His plan had been to grab l
unch at LettuceWrap so he could see her again. Ever since they first met at Ti’s adoption ceremony, his thoughts had been consumed by the gorgeous minx. Yeah—she was on the younger side of anyone he’d ever dated before. But there was something about her—something about the way his stomach knotted the first time their eyes met. Knotted, then quickly righted itself, as if everything suddenly made sense the longer they talked and got to know each other that day.

  All that long, dark hair curling down her back, that sunny yellow, strapless maxi dress she’d worn, and those eyes . . . bottomless pools of heat, passion, and knowing.

  He was a goner.

  His father had fallen for his mother in exactly the same way, so Zade knew it was possible. Love at first sight. The words pressed into his mind, but he pushed back harder. He knew it wasn’t quite love yet, but it was something much stronger than he could ignore. Something he didn’t want to ignore.

  He couldn’t exactly quantify what it was, which would normally bother Zade. His entire life was based on facts, science, and reason. But with Rosalie . . . something had shifted in him that afternoon at the party when he saw her sitting at the picnic table across from Dez, looking a little lost. But when she’d lifted her dark brown eyes for their introduction, it felt a little something like magic to Zade. It was magic—just as his father had told him it would feel someday. And it made Zade want to turn to faith for the first time. Because surely there was a god he needed to thank for putting Rosalie right in his path—not once, but twice now.

  He still remembered the first thing he’d said to her at the party, once they found themselves alone. “I have to ask—are you religious? Because you feel like the answer to all my prayers.” He’d meant for it to be the funny pick-up line that it was, and he loved the way her eyes lit up and she belly laughed with him. It had done its job of breaking the ice.

  “What’s your deal, Zampogna?” Egan said, pulling his winnings toward his side of the table and bringing Zade back to the present. “You haven’t been yourself all night.”