Dumped for Valentine's (Fun For the Holiday's Book 2) Read online

  DUMPED FOR VALENTINE’S

  by

  J. Sterling

  DUMPED FOR VALENTINE’S

  Copyright © 2022 by J. Sterling

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by:

  Jovana Shirley

  Unforeseen Editing

  www.unforeseenediting.com

  Cover Design by:

  Michelle Preast

  www.michelle-preast.com/

  www.facebook.com/IndieBookCovers

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Please do not participate or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945042-35-5

  Please visit the author’s website

  www.j-sterling.com

  to find out where additional versions may be purchased.

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  Other Books by J. Sterling

  Bitter Rivals- an enemies to lovers romance

  Dear Heart, I Hate You

  10 Years Later- A Second Chance Romance

  In Dreams – a new adult college romance

  Chance Encounters- a coming of age story

  The Game Series

  The Perfect Game - Book One

  The Game Changer - Book Two

  The Sweetest Game - Book Three

  The Other Game (Dean Carter) – Book Four

  The Playboy Serial

  Avoiding the Playboy- Episode #1

  Resisting the Playboy- Episode #2

  Wanting the Playboy- Episode #3

  The Celebrity Series

  Seeing Stars- Madison & Walker

  Breaking Stars- Paige & Tatum

  Losing Stars- Quinn & Ryson

  The Fisher Brothers Series

  No Bad Days – a New Adult, Second Chance Romance

  Guy Hater – an Emotional Love Story

  Adios Pantalones – a Single Mom Romance

  Happy Ending

  The Boys of Baseball

  (the next generation of fullton state baseball players):

  The Ninth Inning – Cole Anders

  Behind the Plate- Chance Carter

  Safe at First – Mac Davies

  Fun for the Holidays

  (a collection of stand-alone novels with holiday based themes)

  Kissing my Co-worker

  Dumped for Valentine’s

  My Week with the Prince

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by J. Sterling

  VAL’S STEMS

  ALL DOLLED UP

  LAST-MINUTE VACATION

  COLORADO

  MANVENTURE FOR ONE

  JASE FREAKING MALONE

  GOLDEN BEARS

  DINNER & DRINKS

  NO EXPECTATIONS

  TIME TO GO HOME

  JUST MY LUCK

  VALENTINE’S DAY

  HIS SISTER?

  HE IS EVERYTHING

  LIFE-CHANGING TRAVEL DEALS

  Other Books by J. Sterling

  About the Author

  VAL’S STEMS

  “I hate Valentine’s Day!” my floral assistant, Karina, yelled from the back room, and I giggled to myself before apologizing to the older woman standing in front of me.

  “She’s de-thorning the roses we got in this morning for the big day,” I explained, and the woman simply grinned back.

  “Those little pricks hurt like a bitch,” she said with a wink before turning on her heel to leave with her order in hand.

  I stood behind the counter with my jaw hanging open, shocked by the old woman’s candor as I watched her walk out the door, the tiny bell jingling as it swung closed behind her.

  “Did that old lady just say the word bitch?” Karina’s blonde head popped out from behind the wall, and I turned to cast a fake evil glare at her as she stepped into the room, standing next to me.

  “You’re one to talk. You can’t shout obscenities from the back room, Karina! Everyone can hear you,” I attempted to reprimand my best friend, but it was no use.

  She was always shouting something or singing at the top of her lungs. I’d learned long ago that the girl had no volume control. And I loved her for it anyway.

  Her head cocked back. “I didn’t even use an obscenity, Valerie,” she said, her tone mimicking mine before she continued, “I simply said that I hate Valentine’s Day.”

  “And that’s pretty much blasphemy in these parts, and you know it. Why don’t you just take a shearing knife and stab me right in the heart?”

  “Ooh, can I? Please?” she mocked, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “Then, I’d never have to take another thorn off these stupid life-sized roses again.”

  Karina had always loathed Valentine’s Day, and she had no shame in letting everyone know it. Half the universe seemed to agree with her, calling it names and claiming it was a made-up, meant-nothing, thoughtless, stupid excuse to spend way too much unnecessary money, of a holiday.

  I, on the other hand, was part of the group who loved it and not just because I owned a floral shop. I thought Valentine’s Day was sweet, romantic, and I didn’t see why so many people complained about having an extra day to show their person just how much they loved them. Sure, it was a completely random date on a calendar that signified nothing of importance to most people, but why couldn’t we go a little overboard for our significant other, or our children, or our best friends for no reason? See, I loved every single thing about it.

  “Stop calling my roses stupid. They’ll hear you.”

  “And probably murder me in my sleep,” she bit back. “I bet they’re plotting it now.” She stabbed the air with her shears like she was fighting an invisible enemy.

  For as much as Karina complained, I couldn’t run the shop without her. She handled the books and the marketing and advertising, and she ran all of our social media accounts. She only had to get her hands dirty and help me with the flowers twice a year—Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day. Since we’d opened, we were always overwhelmed with incoming and pending orders on both of those days. Even with a part-time staff of three, I needed the extra set of hands.

  Karina pretended to hate it, but I knew it was only because she was single and mad that none of the roses were going to her. Which was why I’d had a dozen dropped off at her apartment earlier. I knew it wouldn’t be the same, coming from me instead of a guy, but still, I wanted to brighten her otherwis
e empty apartment and make her smile.

  “Stop taking your bitterness out on my sweet babies.”

  “Your sweet babies have torn up both my hands and almost every finger. They’re evil.” She held up her hands, and I laughed at the bandages wrapped around eight of her ten fingers. “You’re laughing? You’re actually laughing at my pain?”

  Shaking my head, I informed her, “I’m just laughing because this happens every time. You never learn.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I have anyone to keep my fingers pretty for. Unlike you. Where is Mr. Perfect taking you to dinner tonight?”

  “Oblange,” I said as a smile erupted.

  “Ooh la la. The perfect place for the perfect proposal.” She wagged her eyebrows at me.

  I smacked her shoulder. “Stop it.”

  “No.”

  “You’re not helping,” I complained as my insides twisted at the thought.

  “I’m not trying to help,” she argued before cocking her head to the side. “Wait, what am I not trying to help with?”

  I laughed again. “You seriously just argued with me without thinking? You said the exact opposite thing for no reason other than to say it? Who are you?”

  “Your best friend. Your business partner. Your future cat-owning roommate if neither one of us ever gets a ring put on it. Pick one.”

  I stood, smiling at my crazy best friend, wondering what on earth I’d do without her. The things that came out of her mouth never ceased to amaze or amuse me.

  “Now, tell me why I wasn’t helping. What’s really going on?” All pretenses dropped, along with her trademark smile, as Karina grew serious and stepped toward me, putting one hand on my shoulder.

  “I just don’t want to get my hopes up,” I admitted, but it fell on deaf ears. And on an even more deaf heart.

  My hopes were already up. My heart was already hopeful. Proposing was the next step in my and Moore’s relationship, and I’d be lying if I didn’t think it was bound to happen any day now. Each time he asked me out to a fancy dinner, I donned a pretty dress and styled my hair and makeup perfectly just in case that night turned into the night. It might be a little vain, but I wanted to look nice for the pictures that I assumed would be taken without my knowing while he asked.

  “It’s been three years. If he doesn’t ask you soon, I will.” Her arm lowered, and she offered me an almost-sympathetic smile, which made me start to lose my composure.

  We’d all met during college here in New York.

  Karina and I had bonded in a junior year business class and had been inseparable ever since, coming up with a solid business plan for opening the flower shop together even though I was the majority owner. With or without Karina, Val’s Stems was always going to be a reality, but we solidified the partnership one night over pizza and cheap boxed wine.

  The two of us met Moore at a senior year mixer, where it seemed like everyone and everything gravitated around his pull. If the party were a match, then Moore was the oxygen the flame needed to survive. Take Moore out of the equation, and the whole thing snuffed out, faded to black, and died. I’d never been so taken with someone’s energy before. He was so self-assured and confident. And after talking to him for a whole ten minutes, I was convinced I’d met someone who would change my life for the better.

  Moore knew exactly what he wanted to do and what it would take to get there. Instead of the usual scared college senior who wasn’t quite sure where they’d go after graduation, he seemed to have all his ducks in a row. I related to him on a visceral level. It had seemed like we were the only two people on campus who were tired of waiting to get degrees to start our real lives.

  I sucked in a long breath, pulling it together. “He has been acting weird lately,” I admitted, a little too excited for my own good.

  “He’s always weird. That’s why you like him,” Karina teased because weird was the very last thing Moore ever was.

  “He’s never weird,” I countered.

  Predictable, stable, and motivated—those words described him more accurately.

  “You’re right. He’s probably just nervous because he’s going to propose!” she shouted before disappearing into the back room at the same time the bell jangled with the opening of the door.

  I tamped down my eagerness for tonight and turned to the approaching customer. “Hi there, sir. How can I help you today?”

  ALL DOLLED UP

  I had changed three times before settling on the fitted red dress I wore underneath my long jacket. It was February in New York, and it was freezing. Still, I didn’t want to dress for the weather in some oversize sweater and boots, not when tonight might possibly, maybe be the night. So, I’d dolled up for the potential occasion.

  Ridding my mind of the wishful thinking, I walked through the solid wood doors of the restaurant and was immediately hit with warmth. Five steps inside, and I spotted Moore’s perfectly coifed hair from the hostess stand and passed by without stopping to address her when she asked if I had reservations. I hadn’t meant to be rude, but my excitement had gotten the best of me.

  “Hey, Val.” Moore rose from his seat, pulled me into a hug, and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek that felt more friendly than romantic.

  Before I could overanalyze it, he pulled out my chair for me as I removed my jacket and folded it around my seat back.

  “You look beautiful.” He swallowed, and his voice sounded shaky.

  Nerves, I assumed. Maybe tonight really was the night.

  “Thank you,” I said before getting comfortable at the latest hot spot in the city.

  Honestly, the fancy dinners weren’t my scene or style at all, but I knew they were Moore’s, so I never argued or complained when he suggested eating at one.

  A waiflike waitress appeared, a genuine smile on her face as she asked, “How are you two this evening?”

  “Good, thank you,” Moore responded for us both.

  “Can I get you started with any wine or a drink from the bar?” She looked between us, giving us each equal amounts of attention.

  I noticed these things because normally, women were taken with Moore, and they treated me as if I either wasn’t there at all or like I was a nuisance, something to get out of the way.

  “I think we’re okay for now,” Moore said before I could answer.

  I really wanted a glass of merlot.

  “I’ll give you both some time with the menu,” she said and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

  Moore reached across the table, a silent signal that meant he wanted my hand in return. I placed my left hand in his, and he squeezed gently. “You know I care about you, don’t you, Val?”

  Care about me?

  I nodded, my heart suddenly lodged firmly in my throat.

  “But I don’t think this is working anymore.” He delivered the blow so softly, so nonchalantly, that I didn’t realize his thumb had still been rubbing the side of my hand until I yanked it away abruptly.

  “What isn’t working anymore?” My mind refused to put the pieces together.

  He flashed a smile. The same smile I was sure he donned at the office a thousand times in order to get whatever it was that he wanted. “Us, babe.”

  Babe?

  Reality hit me with a swift kick to the guts. “Don’t call me that,” I stuttered as my vision instantly blurred.

  “Sorry. Habit,” he said as if that explained it away or made it okay.

  “You’re breaking up with me? Why? And why did you bring me here if you were just going to dump me?” The questions burned my throat on their way out before the realization kicked me in the guts again.

  He hadn’t wanted me to make a scene, so he’d brought me to a public place—and an upscale one at that. The fact that he’d even thought I would create any semblance of a circus made me want to throw up. Did he even know me at all?

  “We don’t want the same things, Val. You have to see that.”

  “What do you mean? What things?”
I asked because I was genuinely confused. Hadn’t we always talked about living in the city and owning a place with a view of the park? Or had that always been my dream?

  I suddenly found myself searching for conversations I wasn’t even sure we’d ever had. I felt like I was living in a world of fiction, unable to separate reality from the words on the pages. Which version was the truth?

  “I want to leave New York.” His entire face lit up as he said those particular words.

  I looked down at my glass of water, still completely full, before meeting Moore’s brown eyes. “You want to leave? For how long? What about your job?”

  “For a few years? Forever? I’m not sure.” He shrugged like he wasn’t delivering relationship-changing news. “I don’t ever want to stay in one place. I want to see new things and experience new cultures.”

  My body tightened in offense for New York, the city I’d known and loved my entire existence. Suddenly, this big, vibrant place with all of its life and culture wasn’t good enough for him? There was always so much to do and see here. This city was teeming with energy, with a vibrancy that songs and books and movies were made about, were written for.

  “We live in New York City. Why would you need to go anywhere else? There’s more culture in ten blocks than in most places combined.”

  “See”—he leaned back, his shoulders relaxing—“that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re content with staying here forever and running your little flower shop on the corner.”

  He said the words as if what I’d accomplished since graduating meant nothing. He knew more than most people how hard I’d worked to secure loans and funding to get my business off the ground. I hadn’t come from money and didn’t have the perks that others had been born into. I had built the shop from nothing but hopes and dreams, and it thrived with my green thumb and love for it. And here he was, acting like what I had created was something small and insignificant … something anyone could do if they wanted.

  “I am.” I forced the words out. “I am content with that. The store is all I’ve ever wanted to do, and I’m doing it.”