Page 34 of Tempt the Boss

EPILOGUE

ALI

It’s surreal to be standing in a hotel ballroom completely decorated in the theme of my debut novel. The entrance to the large space is lined with an enlarged version of the book’s cover and a giant print of my author photo. There’s a smaller sign between them that reads, “Book Launch Party.”

Chris finds me gawking at the large posters. “How you doin’?” he whispers into my ear. I shiver, my skin breaking out in goosebumps.

“This is crazy,” I whisper back. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it, baby, because it’s real.”

He kisses my temple, arm protectively curved around my back. We’ve been together for a year now, though it feels like so much longer. I’m so grateful his company changed the rules for us so we could date. I can’t imagine my life without Chris Carmichael in it.

We stand together and survey the room. There are over a hundred people here and the party has just started. I wipe a tear from my eye, hoping no one notices, but Chris knows everything.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing,” I say. “Happy tears, I promise. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this whole thing. They’re all here for me.”

“Yes, they are. And you deserve it. Your book is amazing and in a few days, the entire world is going to know it too.”

Because my book comes out on Tuesday, just four days away. There are copies here for the guests, but the public won’t get to read my baby until the release date. I’ve been told that pre-orders are off the charts, so I’m looking forward to release day.

“Thank you so much, Chris. This is all because of you,” I murmur gratefully.

“No way,” he says. “It’s all you, baby.”

I smile up at him, and he bends down to kiss me tenderly. It took some getting used to, but I love having a boyfriend as amazing as Chris. It’s unreal that I got a book deal and a boyfriend all in the same month, when for years, I was dating duds. How did I get so lucky?

An hour into the party, Jenny finds me and tells me I need to make a speech. I hate public speaking, but Chris stands up on the stage with me, so I don’t freak out. Or run away like a scared rabbit.

“Hi, everyone,” I say, looking out at the countless faces staring back at me. “As I’m sure you know from the giant picture of my face by the door, I’m Ali Hartman and I wrote You Can’t Go Home. This book started as a writing project while I was in school, and it became a story I couldn’t let go. Thankfully, I found someone who believed in the story as much as I did. None of this would be possible if my agent, Darla, hadn’t found my query in the slush pile and signed me to her agency.”

I motion to the redhead in the crowd, and she waves, grinning ear to ear.

“Of course, it takes a village to finish a book. I’m so grateful that Carmichael Publishing, especially my editor Jenny, loved my book as much as Darla and I did. They took a huge chance on me, and I can’t thank them enough.” Polite applause smatters across the room. I take a deep breath because my final thank you is here.

“And my boyfriend, Chris, who is standing here with me, has been my rock and my muse since we first met just over a year ago. You can thank him for inspiring my second book, which is going to come out next year.”

He smiles at the crowd and gives me a light kiss on the cheek.

“Everyone at Carmichael Publishing has been amazing. Thank you for the opportunity to get my voice out there and show the world what I’m made of. And thank you to all of the guests who came out here to celebrate my book with me. You make all of this possible. Last, but certainly not least, I want to thank my parents. My mom is a poet and my dad owns a hardware store. Together, they taught me how to write, how to persevere, and how to love. I owe them everything. Thank you, Mom and Dad.”

I hold up my glass to the room. “To those who inspire us, and to those who make our dreams come true. Cheers!”

Everyone in the room takes a drink. I leave the microphone, expecting to climb off the makeshift stage and mingle with the crowd again, but Chris stops me.

“Hi, everyone,” he says into the microphone. “My name is Chris Carmichael, CEO of Carmichael Publishing and also the lucky man who gets to call Ali his girlfriend.”

The crowd ahhhs and I stare up at him. Where is he going with this?

“For the past year, I’ve been standing by Ali while she slaves away, proving herself over and over again. We got off to a rocky start, but now that I have her, I’m never going to let her go. That’s why,” he says, turning to me, “I’m here to ask you all to be witnesses for this important question.”

Oh my god! Is this really happening? My jaw drops as my eyes go wide, heart beating furiously. But it really is because Chris drops down to one knee and pulls a small satin box from his suit pocket.

“Ali Hartman,” he pronounces, those blue eyes seizing mine. “Will you marry me?”

The rest of the world disappears into a blur so that there’s only this man before me. My eyes fill with tears as I extend my left hand. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

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