Synopsis – After Paris
They met twice that day. Once as Alyssa James, journalist and Xavier Montgomery, businessman and once as Mr Casanova and Papillon. Alyssa James had already had her heart destroyed once and so resisting Xavier Montgomery is the right thing to do. But she can’t. Xavier Montgomery is annoyed that he let Alyssa go. He should have got her number. The connection with her was real, she must have felt it too. Then he met Papillon.
It was only meant to be one night in Paris.
But sometimes, what happens in Paris doesn’t always stay in Paris….
Author Bio
Hey everyone
My name is Jacqueline Bacci. I am married with one son and live in the beautiful county of Essex, just outside of London.
I started writing books many moons ago, whilst still at school, and I have an old chest upstairs in my house filled with dozens of handwritten manuscripts. My writing was for my own pleasure, and I lost myself for hours in the love lives of the couples who only existed in my head and my heart. If I was a piece of seaside rock, I would have the word ‘romance’ written right through me.
I lived in Florence Italy for a few years in my twenties as I longed to learn the Italian language and I came away with a passion for everything Italian (plus an Italian husband!)
My books are about love and sizzling passion and couples who overcome every obstacle to be together and there is always a happy ever after.
After everything, love conquers all.
Social Media Links – https://www.instagram.com/jacquelinebacciauthor
Book Extract
There was a big black range rover parked outside my small, terraced house in Pimlico when I returned home that evening. My heart sank as I knew who it was before I had even reached it. I asked myself how he had found my address but then I guess a man with his network could find almost anything he wanted to. I contemplated making a hasty retreat but was out of luck because just as I turned heel and was about to run, that chocolatey velvet voice called out behind me.
“Alyssa. Fancy bumping into you here.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten before turning to face him. Oh. My. God. Could this man get any more handsome? He was dressed in a dark navy suit that looked like it had been handmade for him, and it probably had to be fair. The shirt was white and his tie navy polka dot. He looked absolutely delectable especially when he held his head on one side to smile at me and his dark hair flopped into his eyes. He pushed it back with those wonderfully talented fingers of his and I wondered how on earth I was going to gain any sort of immunity towards this man when just one look at his face could reduce me to mush in about ten seconds flat. Silently I berated myself for being so predictable and so fucking weak and then plastered a false smile on my face for the second time that day.
“Don’t tell me…you were just passing,” I said as normally as I could.
“You don’t look surprised to see me,” he walked towards me, and my heart began to beat harder in my chest.
“Any salt cellars headed your way lately?” I couldn’t help but mention as I neatly sidestepped his observation. My heartbeat gathered speed as a huge grin appeared on his handsome face.
“I seem to have cleaned up my act since we last met. No flying objects aimed at my head in the past six months although I deserved a few I must admit, probably with a bit of pepper added for good measure.”
I’ll bet. I had lost count of the number of women he had been seen with but to mention that here would mean he would know I have been keeping tabs on him…which I hadn’t obviously….
He stopped in front of me and allowed his eyes to roam my face. It wasn’t particularly intense, but I could still feel my face begin to heat.
“Why are you here?” I asked as I tore my eyes away from his to stare at the pavement as I regained my composure.
“In London? Or outside your house?”
“Both.”
“In London for work and I think you know why I am here outside your house.”
I looked at him and he smiled.
Don’t smile at me like that otherwise all my resolve will disappear.
“Why won’t you write the article about me?” he asked softly.
“I’m still working on my book. I have deadlines…”
“Your boss lady Harriet wants you to do it. She agrees with me that you are the best person for the job, but she says you were adamant that you wouldn’t.”
“Because I am busy.”
“She says that you could do it if you really wanted to.”
“Then perhaps I don’t really want to.”
“It really should be me who is being pissy…”
My eyes snapped to his and I let out a snort. “I beg your pardon?”
“You didn’t call me. Not once. You had my number.”
“Is this what this is all about? Because I didn’t call you?” I shook my head in amazement. He had hardly been pining for me. I had seen photographic proof of that. I went to walk past him, and he reached out and gently grabbed my arm and pulled me round to face him. My heart was beating so fast now I thought he must surely hear.
“Yes, I admit I am a bit pissed you didn’t call me, but it is not about that. I want you to write it because you are a good writer, I’ve read your work and plus we already have a connection. I feel like I know you…is that stupid? I know we only met for what? Half an hour outside a café in Paris but I just feel comfortable with you. Please think about it at least?”
I closed my eyes for a second. I needed to move away from him. He smelled divine, just like I remembered, and it was bringing everything about Paris back to me. If I could bottle that smell and sell it, I would make a fortune. I pulled my arm away and he let me go.
“I need to sleep on it. I’ll let Harriet know tomorrow,” I began to walk away.
“I can’t believe that you are not going to even invite me in for a coffee…” his voice held a laugh.
“Believe it,” I called over my shoulder without turning as I strode the short distance to my house with so much more confidence than I felt.
I closed my front door behind me and stood there trying to control my nerves and my shaking hands. Then I ran upstairs and watched him from my bedroom window as he stood on the pavement looking at my house for a while. He was smiling and shaking his head. Probably couldn’t believe that a woman had turned him down not once but twice. Then he climbed into his car and sat there for a few minutes more until at last he started the engine and drove away.
I slumped against the wall in my bedroom and slowly slid down to the floor into a seated position and hugged my knees to my chest. I already knew I was going to do it. How could I not? But this was dangerous territory. I needed to detach myself from him and yet at the same time get to know him enough to draw the story out and to find out all I could. I leant my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. Now, how the hell was I going to do that?
