Memories of May (TARRIN’S BAY) by Juliet Madison EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Juliet Madison
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.5 MB
- Price: Free
If Olivia Chevalier’s head hadn’t been stuck in a book, she would have
noticed a lookalike of the gorgeous fictional man she was reading about
entering her bookstore. She also would have noticed him do a double take
on spotting her seated behind the counter, and his hesitation as he picked up
a random book from the display table then put it back down again. But the
first she saw of him was his hand, on her counter, a pile of brochures
grasped between rugged, masculine fingers. Her line of sight trailed up the
mountainous curvature of his loose-shirt-enclosed arm and shoulder, his
thick, tanned neck, and to his face; peppered with stubble and sporting a
casual, curious smile. Her eyebrows sprung up and she closed her book
with a snap. ‘Hi. How can I help you?’
‘Hi.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I was wondering if I could leave these
here?’ He gestured to the brochures. ‘Sorry, I should introduce myself first.
I’m Joel Foster.’ His hand released the brochures and invited her hand as a
replacement. As she moved her hand towards his, her casual assistant,
Marcus, dropped a pile of books, then his head poked out from behind the
end of the cooking section, his eyebrows arched high.
‘All good!’ Marcus gave a thumbs-up sign then disappeared behind the
wooden shelves.
Olivia accepted Joel’s firm handshake and met his ocean-blue eyes with
her rainforest-green ones. ‘Olivia Chevalier.’ She looked down at the
offering, noticing his photo on the brochure; a natural-looking headshot
with an outdoor, rocky background.
‘That’s a lot of syllables,’ he said.
She looked up with her brow furrowed. ‘Sorry?’
‘Your name,’ he elaborated. ‘Ol-iv-i-a Chev-al-i-er. Eight syllables.’ He
smiled. ‘Compared to my pathetic total of three.’
She tilted her head and smiled with curiosity at the intriguing man. ‘I
wasn’t aware that the number of syllables in one’s name equated to their
level of…’ She glanced to the side as though the elusive adjective would
appear. Non-patheticness? ‘Level of…’
‘Awesomeness?’
Her smile tickled her lips and became a chuckle. ‘Well if you say so,
I’m happy to accept that.’
His grin widened. ‘You know, I didn’t even know what a syllable was
until…’ He glanced upward. ‘I don’t know exactly, but sometime far later
than someone should learn such a term.’
She glanced at the brochure and scanned the words. Tell your own story
… turn your memories to memoir … learn from bestselling author Joel
Foster…
‘But you’re an author.’
‘Apparently,’ he replied with a bashful smile. ‘But really I just relayed
my story of what happened to me, and a wonderful creature known as an
editor helped make it understandable and readable.’ He drummed his
fingers on the counter. ‘Dyslexia was my companion all through school, and
there was a lot I missed, with that and the sporting priorities I had. It’s
better than before, but I’m still not the best with words.’ He held out his
hands to the side and shrugged.
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