CHAPTER 1
DESIRAE
Priceless.The feeling of pride that pulses through me whenever I see a bride gazing at her reflection in the salon of my boutique, Coastal Couture. Especially when it’s someone with a body type similar to mine. I know all too well what it means to navigate a world obsessed with weight. As a plus-size woman who’s been a curvy girl since my teens, I’ve made it my life’s work to turn every snide remark and backhanded compliment about my appearance into the driving force behind my passion for making brides of all shapes and sizes feel radiant on their special day.
I landed in Pelican Point to start my business with a small inheritance left to me by my grandmother. As soon as I saw the charming and historic Reilly building, I knew I’d found the perfect storefront to serve as a sanctuary for women seeking acceptance and beauty without compromise. Located on Seabreeze Avenue, the heart and soul of downtown Pelican Point, the over one-hundred-year-old building’s beauty is classic andunderstated, much like my prized possession, the antique silver brooch that belonged to my precious Nana.
I focus my attention back toward the bride-to-be I’m currently fitting. The crystal accents of the chandelier in the salon cause sparkles to flit around the room like fireflies, bouncing off the subtle sheen in the fabric of the gown I’m pinning on. As I look in the mirror to gauge her reaction to my creation, a tiny sliver of self-doubt creeps in. I always want to make sure I do my best for every woman who crosses the threshold of my shop. For Mia, I designed a sexy deep vee-neck dress with vintage style lace and a tulle skirt in a pale pink blush color, which sets off her fair skin and icy-blonde hair to perfection. The plunging neckline positively accentuates—without overwhelming—her breasts, while the high waist flatters her figure, and the lacy long sleeves lengthen her arms. My eyes meet hers. She’s silent, with tears streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong, honey? Whatever it is, I can fix it, I promise.” I reach over to a side table and grab a few tissues so she can wipe her tears.
She takes a deep breath and turns from the mirror to face me. “I’m crying because it’s perfect. For the first time in a long time, I feel beautiful. Thanks to you, Desirae. The other shops I went to before didn’t even try to give me what I needed. They made me feelless-thanbecause I don’t fit their vision of a model-size bride who can wear anything off the rack. They dismissed me and made me feel likeIwas the problem, not the dress. You saw me and heard me. Thank you.” She reaches overand hugs me, and just like that, all the doubts about my abilities drift away like dark clouds receding.
After Mia departs, I lock up and head toward the harbor to my happy place, Seaside Sweets, for a treat of fresh scones and daily gossip. Since Julie opened her business, it’s quickly become a gathering place for locals and tourists, and is just what I need right now to celebrate another happy customer.
As the tinkling bell over the door announces my arrival, I expect to be met by smiles and greetings. Instead, there’s an undercurrent of tension in the bakery. When I approach the counter, Julie’s normal sunny greeting is tempered with a look of wariness, as if a storm is approaching. I haven’t seen faces this unhappy since Mrs. Waverly, the beloved florist in town, passed away suddenly.What the hell is going on?
As Julie serves up my usual order of a blueberry scone, her hand shakes slightly. “How about some tea today with your scone? I’ll bring it over to you in a moment. Joselyn’s saving a seat for you.”
I look over toward the table usually reserved for Julie’s “girl gang,” her assortment of local buddies, who have become my friends and confidantes as well. They’re all successful businesswomen in their own right. Joselyn, who grew up here in Pelican Point, returned recently, and has become the events planner for the Celtic Knot winery, as well as the wedding planner I recommend to prospective brides. Emma, who’s dress I designed for a beautiful Irish beach wedding, is also here. She’s a prominent attorney in town, and my go-tofor legal advice. As I take my seat, Emma slides a piece of paper to me across the table.
I look down at the printout. It appears to be a press release or announcement of some sort, with the wordsDeveloper’s Daily Newsat the top.
“What’s this?”
Emma answers solemnly. “Candace sent this to me this morning. A real estate developer is planning a revitalization project in Pelican Point. An outsider, who knows nothing about our town. And he plans to start by bulldozing the Reilly building.”
Over my dead body. My breath catches and I look out the window in an effort to calm myself before speaking. The gentle sway of palms and clouds moving in signal a mid-day storm approaching, much like the one forming in my gut. My hands begin shaking with a mixture of fear and rage, knowing this could destroy not only my business, but my entire mission of making every woman feel beautiful. I turn my attention back to the paper, studying it intently, memorizing every detail. Finally, I look at my friends, tears stinging my eyes. Even though this is potentially devastating for me, there’s someone else I’m worried about. “Does Mrs. Reilly know?”
Jos takes my hand in hers as Emma answers me. “We’re not sure. We figured you should know first, and then maybe you can break it to her. Let her know that I’m here to provide whatever legal services you both might need.”
Mrs. Reilly is a sweet octogenarian, whose late husband’s grandfather built the Reilly building in the early 1920’s. As the only remaining Reilly, she is the soleowner. Since I didn’t have all the capital I needed at the time, we entered into a long-term purchase agreement. The only thing she asked of me was that I preserve the old coastal charm of the building. She’s as precious to me as my own Nana was. Another reason for me to fight for my legacy and hers with everything I have.
Emma continues speaking. “Candace told me to pass on to you that she’s standing by to break this guy’s balls. Just say the word.”
Despite the emotions swarming around in my head, my lips curl into a slight smile. I have no doubt Candace Prescott means what she says. The owner of Sapphire Development, her own real estate development business, she’s smart, savvy, and independent; and engaged to the town’s richest man, billionaire Ryan Murphy. She also recently returned to Pelican Point, and has her own plans to revitalize the town in a way that retains the charm of our seaside retreat, beginning with the harbor area. I don’t know anything about this guy who owns Stone Development, but if I were a betting person, my money would be on Candace any day of the week.
“Do you want me to conference in Candace now?”
Even though I’m grateful for the support and help, I want this man to know he’s not going to push me around. I can hear dear Nana’s voice in my head.You’ve got this, girl. You’ve come this far on your own. You’re strong and spirited. Show this man you’re not going down without a fight.
“Not now, but tell her thank you. I need to talk to Mrs. Reilly before she hears about it from someone else. Then I’m going to let this Stone Anginelli know just who he’s messing with.”
CHAPTER 2
STONE
The ridiculously overpriced coffee my personal assistant insists on bringing me every morning is sitting on my desk growing as cold as the metal and sterile environment of my modern office, as I sort through a flood of angry emails concerning the Pelican Point project. Someone apparently thought it was a good idea to leak the plan prior to getting community buy-in, and the fallout has been swift and vicious.
Someone on the board, no doubt. They’re motivated by the potential profits and stock increases, while this project is personal for me. It’s meant to be my legacy, the deal that will secure my status as the premier community developer on the East Coast. Besides that, the driving force behind everything I do, and the reason why this small town renovation means so much, is to honor my grandfather, the man who taught me everything he knew about investing in real estate. His words from so long ago still resonate with me today.
Stone, my boy, real estate is a life-changing investment. Withonly a few dollars, you can turn it into something grand, and give your family a better life.
Apparently, the good citizens of Pelican Point don’t share my vision, as evidenced by my overflowing inbox. Hopefully, that sentiment will change once they’ve been briefed on what that vision is and how it can help bring the once bustling seaside town roaring back to life as a modern tourist attraction.
Thedingof my computer signals yet another incoming missive, simultaneously with the ring of my phone. I look away from the laptop screen, hitting the button to accept the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
