Mrs. Right (Zakrzewski Anthologies), page 1
Mrs. Right
LIMITED EDITION ROMANCE ANTHOLOGY
MEL WALKER
LOLO PAIGE
OLIVIA BOOTHE
TRACY BROEMMER
LAYLA DELANEY
BARB SHULER
SUSANNA EASTMAN
MEG NAPIER
SHARON WRAY
Copyright © 2023 by Ashley Zakrzewski of Zakrzewski Anthologies
All rights reserved. Authors retain copyright of the product inside this anthology.
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.
Contents
The Best Day
Mel Walker
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
About the Author
Her Midnight Valentine
Sharon Wray
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
About the Author
His (Im)perfect Alien
Susanna Eastman
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
About the Author
Alaska Valentine
LoLo Paige
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
About the Author
Love & Family
Barb Shuler
Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Epilogue
About the Author
Mrs. Bennett
Tracy Broemmer
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About the Author
Second Homecoming
Meg Napier
Preface
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
About the Author
Wickedly in Love
Olivia Boothe
1. Take Me For A Spin
About the Author
Worst Laid Plans
Layla Delaney
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
About Layla
The Best Day
A LAKE HOPE ROMANTIC SHORT
MEL WALKER
Chapter One
RYAN
“Don’t come out,” I yell toward the bedroom door, my heart racing when I hear my wife Candice stirring. Wife. Just the thought of the word puts a goofy smile on my face.
It’s been six months since our wedding, and I’m stilling floating in the stratosphere. I’ve married my best friend after our circuitous and bumpy journey, and it has been worth every step of the way. “Just one second. I’m coming right back,” I say as I balance the tray filled with my best version of a romantic breakfast. The cooking gene, which my parents passed to my older brother Aaron, never made it to me, which is why I FaceTime’d him all morning as he provided a breakfast for dummies walkthrough.
Fluffy soft snow continues to fall and build on the deck of our cozy Lake Hope home, which we sneak off to nearly every weekend and on special occasions like today. I adjust the single long-stemmed red rose in the vase and approach the bedroom door. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Parker.” My voice hitches as I balance the tray and push through the door. A wide smile fills my face as the weight of my words ricochet back at me. Every day is like a dream.
“Oh my God, Ryan. You didn’t?” The excited voice of my beautiful wife tells me the early morning struggle of stepping into the kitchen is so worth the effort. She’s always worth it. No matter the challenge put before us.
Candice scoots up to a seated position, adjusting pillows behind her lower back. Her excited eyes light up as she grabs the ends of her blond hair and ties it into a messy ponytail, tossing it over her shoulder. “Please tell me those are the famous Parker Pancakes,” she says, reaching for the tray.
I remove the coffee from the tray and set it on the nightstand. “You know it’s a special day when I pull out the P-squared cakes.”
Her gaze remains on the plate, but her laugh is meant for me. “You and Aaron still workshopping the name I see. At least P-squared sounds more appealing than the PP cake.”
I chuckle at her dig. Aaron had worked as a sous chef for Jackson, a semi-famous chef in town. Jackson opened a pop-up restaurant here at Lake Hope, Indiana. The shop a prize for winning a national cable cooking competition. An eight-week, fully funded restaurant anywhere in the United States, and Jackson picked this formerly sleepy hideaway in Lake Hope. These days, the lakefront is world famous and buzzes with activity year-round.
The success of the pop-up has Jackson in the planning stages of opening a permanent restaurant. He’s asked Aaron to step in and run the breakfast operations. Hence the branding exercise.
“What else am I looking at?” Candice twirls her fork in her hand before spearing a gob of potatoes.
I point to the plate like a tour guide. “Hungry-hungry hash browns, bring it on bacon, and of course, the most egggselent scrambled eggs.” I lay my hands out, palms up, as if I’ve just delivered a winning hand at the casino.
Candice’s giggle tells me I’ve celebrated too soon. “You and your brother should really stop having branding discussions at bars. Those names sound like you were three fifths to the wind.”
“It’s still a work in progress,” I say in our defense. Her assessment is not that far from the truth. It wasn’t a bar, but there was liquor involved. Candice lifts the thin vase holding the red rose. Her eyes fill with love, and the corners of her lips curl up into a warming smile. I lean over the bed and give my charming wife a kiss. It’s a soft, hello, beautiful morning kiss that’s filled with a promise of a hundred kisses to come.
Our lips separate, but my hand cups her face. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I say.
“Our first as husband and wife,” she whispers with the sound of wonderment that I know well. “Can you believe we’re here?”
I nod. Our journey and history is long and winding, filled with missteps, miscommunications, and heartache. For a period, we went our separate ways. Three of the longest years of my life. But our love was too strong, the pull too powerful to resist. We found our way back to one another.
I plant the famous Parker smirk on my face and shoot the line I know she’ll understand. “Hey, Candice, do you mind if I sit next to you?”
Her eyes light up with excitement, her hand patting a space next to her on the bed. “Hell, yes.”
These were the first words we shared when we met in Professor Henderson’s advanced economics class junior year in college. The attraction was instantaneous even though we ran in two different circles up to that point in our college lives.
“I know we said no gifts, but I got you a card,” she says, darting her eyes over my shoulder to the dresser.
I squeeze her left hand, my thumb rubbing gently over the wedding band. Such a simple thing bringing me such pleasure. “Tonight,” I whisper. “Let’s exchange cards over dinner.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle into another joyous smile. “And we’re just doing a quiet dinner here with just the two of us? Right?”
I chuckle and rise from the bed. Ever since I told her a week ago that I would take care of dinner, Candice has been trying to figure it out. One thing we both value for special occasions is experiences over gifts. If it were up to me, I’d shoot fireworks across the lake and announce our love to the world, but Candice, ever the introvert, has asked for a quiet evening at home.
Her gaze meets mine, her brow ticking up. “I didn’t hear a response in that laugh of yours, Mr. Parker. If you’re throwing me a curve ball, I need to know. I don’t want to walk into a room full of people wearing a sweatshirt and flannel PJ bottoms.”
“Whatever you wear will be perfect because you’ll be in it.” It’s a cornball response, but it’s how I feel. Candice could wear a three-day-old t-shirt and ripped jeans and look spectacular. “Let me grab my tray. I’ll be right back.”
Thirty seconds later, I slip onto the bed next to Candice and hand her the syrup. “Sweets for my sweet.
“Keep it up, Mr. Parker, and we may never leave this bedroom today.”
I rub my hands together, a sinister sneer on my face. “So, my master plan is working.” I glance out the window, the snow continuing to fall at a rapid pace, with no sign of it easing. “Candice?”
She must hear the concern in my voice, twisting to face me.
I tip my head toward the bedroom window overlooking the lake. “The storm looks worse than predicted. You sure you want to go to the office this morning? You remember last winter when they closed the roads for two days?”
“How could I forget? We got to spend an extended weekend right here in bed for those two days.” Color floods her cheeks with what must be the memory of how we filled our time. “I’ll keep an eye on the news and if it gets too bad, I’ll head back here early for our special dinner. If things go well, maybe they’ll close the roads after dinner, if you know what I mean.”
I stuff a piece of bacon in my mouth and shoot a wink back to her. “I love the way you think, Mrs. Parker.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”
Chapter Two
CANDICE
My fingers twirl the number-two pencil as I stare blankly at a spreadsheet of financial projections that makes no sense to me. Usually, hopping into work and the world of financial management is enough to distract me from whatever is on my mind. The world of checks and balances, assets and liabilities, income and expenses, always has made more sense to me than the unpredictable, uncontrollable world of people.
I push back from my office desk, twirl in my chair, and stare out the second-floor window down to the street in Destiny Falls. I’m the owner of a financial planning company. It’s doing remarkably well with clients from all over the world, thanks to Ryan’s extensive network from his professional volleyball-playing days.
I squeeze the phone in my hand, my fingers moving on instinct, the place I always turn to for counsel. “Dad,” I say when he answers on the first ring.
“Hey, dear. How are things?” My dad’s calm voice is exactly the elixir I need right now. Who am I kidding? No matter my mood, speaking to my dad makes things better.
I nibble on a fingernail. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dad.” I pause. It’s nearly a decade since we lost Mom, but certain holidays are more difficult than others. Mother’s Day for me and Valentine’s Day and their anniversary for Dad. “How are you doing?”
His chuckle catches me by surprise. “Living my best, dear. You don’t have to worry about me. This day is all about being surrounded by those you care for. I’m hanging out with the other Mr. Parker.”
“Pops is with you?” I screech. Ryan’s dad, Pops, and my dad are both retired and avid fishermen. They’ve become fast best friends and often travel to fishing tournaments together. “Put the phone on speaker.”
I hear Dad speaking to Pops in the background. “She heard you were here and kicked me to the curb. I’m putting her on speaker.”
“Pops!!!” I shout. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m so happy you’re there.”
“Where else would I be? Where else would I want to be?” Joy emanates through the phone line as I picture his warm smile. “I hope Ryan did right by you. The first Valentine’s Day as husband and wife is special.”
I press a hand to my chest, warmed by his sentiment. He’s raised two precious men. Ryan’s brother Aaron is just as thoughtful and sweet.
“He’s right,” Dad chimes in, and I picture the two of them, leaning over the phone, my dad’s hand on Pops’ shoulder, sharing knowing smiles. “They’re all special, but the first one is one for the memory books. When you get old enough, I’ll tell you how your mother and I celebrated. Oh wait, on second thought, maybe not.”
“Dad!!” I shout and press a hand to my face to hide the blush. I take a step back and scoot onto the edge of my desk. The line goes silent for a moment. “I’m happy,” I say, knowing they’ll understand my words. It’s not just the joy of being married to Ryan, but I’m happy that my dad and Pops are together on this day, which must be difficult for them. Each losing their spouses and loves of their lives well before their time.
“So are we,” Pops says, as if reading my mind. “Go and celebrate.”
“Make it special,” Dad chimes in, and he’s right.
“I will,” I whisper loud enough for them to hear but gentle enough to calm my concerns. “Love you both.”
We complete our goodbyes, and my mind continues to shift gears. I’m still floating on the cloud from my beautiful morning with my husband. The time, care, and effort he’s put into the morning makes me feel cherished and loved. And he’s not done yet. We said no gifts, yet a gorgeous bouquet arrived at my office minutes after I arrived. He made me breakfast in bed. A special dinner is being planned back at our lake house.
And now this. A text from him ten minutes ago.
Candice - I’m stuck at work and need you to pick up something for me. It’s a package located in the first place you and I went to celebrate me passing the advanced economics class. The weather is getting rough, so I’ve recruited some help to go with you. They will arrive in ten minutes.
Love
Your Mr. Parker
The mysterious text means Ryan isn’t done with surprises. I stare down at the street and spot Mia Marshall, my best friend, stomping through the snow. As if sensing my presence, she lifts a hand to the fur-lined coat hoodie, peeling it down. She squints through the falling snowflakes up at my office window. I wave to let her know I see her. Her shoulders lift, she’s as much in the dark as I am when it comes to this errand. She points a finger toward the first floor of the office building, and I nod. She disappears from my sight below me, but I already know she’s stopping at the yoga studio downstairs, Yogi’s Choice, to retrieve my other bestie, Dana. If Ryan has recruited my squad, something tells me this little errand won’t be the simple task we all expect it to be.
Heat races to my cheek as I steal a glance at our wedding photo sitting on the desk. How did I get so lucky? He makes even the simplest of tasks an adventure. I get lost in his dreamy emerald eyes; the ones that make me lose my ability to think clearly whenever they’re focused on me.
The quiet of the office evaporates as Demi Lovato’s anthem Confident streams through the speakers in the lobby outside my office. I don’t have to ask but step to the door and whip it open, anyway.
Rachel’s bright, wide eyes whip in my direction. She’s my nineteen-year-old assistant who works part time in the office. “What?” she says as if we haven’t had this discussion a hundred times already.
I cross my arms against my chest and tilt my head, my gaze rising to the speakers, which continue to blast at eleven. Rachel makes no move to lower the volume, stepping toward me, her voice rising to match the volume. “I just buzzed Mia and Dana in downstairs. That’s your ride or die duo. It’s Valentine’s Day.” She presses her hands together and waves them to emphasize her logic. “It either means something bad has happened or something very, very good.” She takes a step back and spins. A full three-hundred-sixty-degree spin. It’s not that unusual. She’s a dance major at the local community college. My last assistant, Sydney, graduated and is now on tour with the traveling production company of Hamilton, the musical. Her graduation gift to me being her handpicked replacement for the assistant position—Rachel.
