3 Book Romance Bundle: "Her Last Love Affair" & "Loving Him Peacefully" & "Unwelcome Reunion"

(3 Book Romance Bundle)

  Her Last Love Affair

  Loving Him Peacefully

  Unwelcome Reunion

  Copyright 2016

  Table of Contents

  Her Last Love Affair

  Loving Him Peacefully

  Unwelcome Reunion

  Her Last Love Affair

  by

  Clara James

  Copyright © 2013 by Clara James

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Her Last Love Affair

  All rights reserved.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

  This Book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Clara James, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Clara James prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  Chapter One

  Workaholic

  Kyle Needham slammed his open palm on the desk and thrust his chair back. “You haven’t got enough to go on, Allie,” he insisted. “If we publish this, he’s going to sue.”

  The young woman he spoke to paced the width of his office. “It’s the truth,” she argued, tossing the words over her shoulder. “Every single word of it is the truth. He can’t get away with pretending to be Mr. Squeaky Clean.” She continued to stride, her long legs taking her across the office in four steps. Reaching the wall, she spun on her heel and made short work of the return journey.

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Kyle sighed, recognizing the stubborn glare in her fiery brown eyes. “But you do not have enough evidence.”

  “What about the statements from his ex-wife?” she quickly asked, halting her feet directly opposite his desk and folding her arms beneath her bosom.

  Needham slowly shook his head, refusing to meet her stare. “It’s not enough, Allie, and you know it.”

  Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she chewed thoughtfully on the soft flesh. She waited patiently for her boss to lift his eyes to hers, but sensed the wait was in vain. “I’m not letting this go,” she told him, as she flicked her head, tossing a few strands of dark brunette hair from her face.

  “This isn’t up for discussion any more,” Needham responded flatly. “I’m reassigning you and as far as I’m concerned, that’s an end to it.”

  “But-” she began.

  “That’s the end of it,” he repeated, his tone stern.

  A tiny muscle in Allie’s jaw clenched as she fought to maintain an already slender hold on her temper. “You want more evidence,” she huffed, exhaling a breath she’d been holding for almost too long. “Fine, I’ll get more evidence, but don’t take me off the story.”

  Shaking his balding, weary head, Needham cast his eyes to the computer screen to his right. Fixing his gaze there, he pulled his chair back under the table and, with a sigh, lifted his hands to the keyboard.

  “Chief,” Allie urged. “Chief,” she repeated more loudly than before, as it became apparent that she was not going to regain his attention. Allowing her arms to flop listlessly by her sides, she glanced helplessly at the ceiling. “I’ve been working on this for two months, you can’t just-”

  The case for her story came to an abrupt halt, as a light tap sounded on the office door’s window. It was followed by the slow creak of hinges and a scruffy mop of sandy blonde hair that appeared in the opening. “Sorry to interrupt,” the face beneath the hair mumbled.

  “It’s fine,” Needham stated, before Allie could open her mouth to tell the newcomer to go away. “Come in, Grant.”

  “Oh,” the nervous youngster blurted. “It’s okay, sir,” he added, shaking his head. “I just came to get Allie.” Turning his focus towards the irascible female reporter, he flashed an apologetic smile. “There’s a phone call for you.”

  “Just take a message,” she sighed, barely looking at the boyish-faced new recruit, whom she’d quickly come to view as being like a pesky younger brother.

  “Umm,” he stalled. “Well, it sounded kinda important,” he carefully insisted, stepping back a pace, as though he anticipated an explosion.

  Her eyes quickly left the frightened looking Grant to find her editor smiling benignly at her.

  “Go ahead,” he nudged, jerking his head toward the door. “We’re done here anyway, remember?”

  “We’re not done,” she argued, taking a small step backwards. “I’m not going to leave this,” she added, pointing her index finger at her employer. Despite herself, she took another step backwards, extending her right hand behind her and reaching for the door handle. “I’ve never let a story go yet,” she reminded him.

  Needham wasn’t sure whether that was indicative of a threat or a promise, but he watched her go unable to dismiss his admiration for her steely determination; something that had prompted him to hire her six years previously. Knowing that he’d only managed to win round one, he sighed in preparation or the inevitable round two.

  Allie left the editor’s office, closing the door more firmly than was necessary.

  “I’m sorry, Al,” Grant mumbled still lurking nearby, but careful to keep out of arm’s reach. “I didn’t know you were discussing something important.”

  Closing her eyes, Allie tried to take a calming breath. It did little to help, but, by the time she opened her eyes again, she couldn’t quite find it within herself to be angry at the office gofer. “It’s all right,” she said, aware that the words were spoken with such lethargy that even she didn’t believe the sentiment. “He’s trying to kill the Pelzer exposé,” she explained, her feet moving apathetically towards her desk.

  “Oh,” Grant responded. “That sucks,” he shrugged, knowing how many hours she had devoted to building the story and having spent a few late nights searching for background on her behalf.

  Tossing him a glance, she nodded. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “But it’s not going to stop you, right?” he added, enthusiastically. “You’re Allie McLaren, nothing stands in your way.”

  She managed a light chuckle, as she tried to show her gratitude for the impromptu pep talk. However, by the time she tossed herself into her chair, she couldn’t manage to keep the smile in place.

  “Oh,” the young man added excitedly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you said you weren’t interested, but that guy from the press conference last week keeps calling. He offered to take you to dinner on Friday, and if that’s no good, a movie on Saturday.”

  Shaking her head, she picked up a pile of haphazardly scattered papers on her desk. “I told him, I’m too busy,” she sighed, repeating herself for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Well,” Grant urged, squeezing her tense
shoulder beneath his long fingers. “He seems keen, so if you change your mind…” As his words trailed off, he quirked his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Is that the phone call you dragged me out her for?” she demanded, ignoring the innuendo of his brow and rummaging frustratedly through the sheaves of paper.

  “No,” he laughed, removing his hand and pointing at the phone in the far corner of her desk. “Line two,” he told her, before his head jerked up at the screech of his name. “Duty calls,” he muttered, following the direction of the impatient yell.

  Allie raised her left hand in a half-hearted wave, before reaching for the telephone. Quickly gripping the receiver, she scooped it up onto her shoulder and clamping it to her cheek. With both hands once again free, she returned to her search through the mess on her desk. “Allie McLaren,” she said flatly into the phone.

  “Oh, Ms. McLaren,” a female voice returned. “I’m calling from Dr. Reynolds office. He’d like you to come down to see him.”

  The frantic movement of Allie’s fingers slowed, before coming to a complete halt. “What is it?” she asked in barely more than a whisper.