Moonstone: A Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance Novella (Jewels Cafe Book 11)

  Moonstone

  Jewels Café Book 11

  By Lucy Felthouse

  Text Copyright 2019 © Lucy Felthouse.

  All Rights Reserved.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the aforementioned author.

  Warning: The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s written permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  About the Author

  If You Enjoyed Moonstone

  An Excerpt from Rose by Jewels Arthur

  Chapter One

  Moonstone Guinevere Miles—known as Ginny to people who didn’t want to incur her fierce and everlasting wrath—heaved her suitcase off the luggage reclaim belt with an “Oof!” and placed it on the floor, a sigh of relief escaping her. At least the thing had wheels—she didn’t really have the energy for carrying a heavy suitcase all the way through Customs and out to Arrivals. The long, tiring flight had seen to that.

  No matter how much she tried, no matter how exhausted she was, she simply could not fall asleep on a plane. Ever. Eye mask, ear plugs, meditation, bloody whale music—nothing helped. She’d long since resigned herself to staying awake while snores from other passengers emanated around the cabin. At least it had only been about seven and a half hours since taking off from Heathrow—she couldn’t imagine what state she’d be in if she ever flew any longer than that—to Australia, New Zealand or somewhere.

  Doubtful that would ever happen, though. It had taken long enough for her to get her backside out to the east coast of America, where her parents had been running a retreat since retiring five years ago. But then, things were different now, weren’t they? Which was why she was even here in the first place—it wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.

  Thinking of her parents brought an inevitable smile to her face, and inserted a little more spring in her step. Despite the energy and mood suck that had been the flight, she was excited to be here. She was eager to see her parents, and to find out exactly what they’d built up over the last five years. She’d seen photos and videos, but it wasn’t the same as actually being there.

  When they’d first announced they were using their retirement nest egg to open a retreat in Upstate New York, she’d been floored. Who the hell retires, only to take on a massive project like that? Surely the whole point of retiring is to wind down, enjoy some free time, relax? But no, her mum and dad—who, to be fair, had never been what one would call conventional—had set their hearts on it. They’d had a huge purge of their belongings, sold their cars and house, and jetted off across the pond, leaving Ginny shocked and not a little bereft. She’d been used to having them close by and had quickly realized just how much she’d taken that for granted.

  At the same time, her career as a chef had taken off and she’d become so busy that her parents’ sudden distance hadn’t made the blindest bit of difference. She barely saw the inside of her own flat, never mind her friends and family. This was the first Christmas she’d had off work since then, too, and she was looking forward to spending it with her parents more than she could put into words. They’d been big on the festive period ever since she was a baby, and as such, Ginny’s brain was stuffed full of warm, fuzzy memories of Christmases past. They’d been useful to get her through the last five crappy ones, too, where a microwaved ready meal was the best she could hope for, if she hadn’t managed to wangle a free meal from the place she’d been working at at the time.

  Her smile widened, and she walked faster still—God, just how big is this bloody airport?—desperate to see her mum and dad and start the Christmas holiday with a bang. Anticipation rushed through her. They’d have turkey and roast potatoes, pigs in blankets, mounds of vegetables, desserts laden with enough calories to last them until Valentine’s Day, Christmas carols, amazing decorations, a beautiful tree, fairy lights…

  And Santa Claus. Two of them, in fact, jumping up and down enthusiastically and waving wildly at her, with not a rotund belly in sight.

  Ginny was so excited, she couldn’t even be bothered with the embarrassment she might have felt at being greeted in a public place by her parents dressed up in Santa outfits. Plus, nobody knew her here anyway, so who cared?

  She scurried around the barrier, almost flipping her case in her haste to turn a corner, then covered the remaining distance between them in seconds flat and released the handle of her suitcase. A series of squeals and exclamations went up—from all three of them—and then everything went dark as Ginny was enveloped in a warm, fluffy embrace, her face crushed up against what she suspected was the white fur trim on her mother’s jacket, and kisses rained down on her. It was all she could do to suck in oxygen as she was squeezed and squeezed them right back. She was assailed by the scents of clean clothes, shampoo, perfume, and cologne—all perfectly lovely smells by themselves, but somewhat overwhelming all at once. Unintelligible murmurings reached her ears, but she didn’t bother to reply since she had no idea what was being said. And she didn’t need words, anyway. All she needed at that moment in time was to soak up the enormous outpouring of love she was experiencing.

  She was so bloody happy, she thought she might pop.

  Eventually, her parents loosened their hold enough so she could step back and actually look at them. She took in her father’s handsome face, his steel-gray hair—or what she could see beneath the hat, at least—his wide grin, and her mother’s long, light gray, waist-length plaits, the glint in her eyes and the glow of her skin.

  “Guys, you look fantastic! If this is what retirement does for you, I think I might sign up now.”

  Her mother, Deborah, gave a nonchalant shrug—which, given her attire, was way more amusing than it should have been. “What can I say, sweetheart? I feel fantastic. I’ve got so much more energy than I ever had in London, even when I was much younger.” She shrugged again. “It’s the retreat, I’m sure of it—the moment your father and I first set foot there all those years ago, I felt there was something magical about it. Silver Springs is the most wonderful little town, and we’re lucky enough to live and work in the most spectacular part of it—though it hardly feels like work.”

  Ginny gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, then turned to her father, Charlie. “And you, Dad? You look twenty years younger, but how do you feel?”

  His face took on a beatific expression. “The same as your mother, kiddo. Exactly the same. If I’d known just how wonderful it would be, I’d have thrown in the towel and moved out here years ago. Dec
ades, even.” He grabbed the handle of Ginny’s case in one hand, then looped the other around her neck and pulled her in to drop a kiss on her chin-length blonde hair, which he then ruffled. “I’m so thrilled you’re here, Moony. You’re going to love it in Silver Springs. Just love it! Come on, let’s get going. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and the weather’s on the turn.”

  Ginny bit back comments on both his use of her childhood nickname, and his messing up of her hair. She didn’t want to dampen the almost euphoric mood that seemed to float between the three of them—a combination of being pleased to see each other, and her parents’ obvious appreciation of their new home. Though five years was hardly new anymore, was it? She really should have visited before now, but the circumstances had been impossible. Now they weren’t, and she was here, in the bosom of her family, at Christmas time, and it was going to be magical.

  And, at some point, she’d enlighten her parents about the fact she had nothing in particular to rush home for, either. But that could wait. No need to burst the happy, everything-is-perfect bubble just yet. She’d let them all enjoy their first Christmas together in years before broaching the subject.

  They made their way out of the airport building. The cold air slapped Ginny in the face, momentarily taking her breath. Her slight gasp drew her mother’s keen eye. “I hope you listened to me, sweetheart, and brought warm clothes with you. It’s even colder up in Silver Springs, you know.”

  “The car’s not far,” her dad piped up. “I’ll get the heating on as soon as we’re inside, and we’ll soon have you snug as a bug in a rug.” He tipped her a wink, and warmth flooded her veins. She hadn’t realized until now just how much she’d missed her wacky yet lovable parents. They might be unconventional—old hippies, most would call them—but they’d given her a wonderful childhood. When she’d reached adulthood, they’d remained incredibly close, with them managing to achieve the perfect balance of loving and supportive without being controlling. They’d let her forge her own path, make her own mistakes, and had been there to help pick up the pieces without uttering so much as an “I told you so.”

  They’d definitely earned this idyllic new life they’d carved out for themselves, and she couldn’t wait to experience it for herself, if only for a little while. Though she wasn’t sure how much fun there was to be had in the back end of beyond. It was hardly going to be lively. Perhaps it was a good thing she was only here for an extended holiday.

  Her dad hadn’t exaggerated—they reached the car within a couple of minutes, and Ginny was soon ensconced in the back seat, her seatbelt on and the heating blasting out. They had to wait a little while for the windscreen to clear, but were shortly on their way. Once they left the airport complex and hit the open road, the purring of the engine and the rumble of the tires on the road surface gradually lulled Ginny into a light doze.

  She was vaguely aware of a squeak, presumably as her mother shifted in her seat, then a chuckle, followed by a murmured, “Bless her, she’s dropped off already. She never could sleep on a plane, even as a child. Bet she’s knackered.”

  His voice thick with amusement, her father replied, “Let her sleep. We’ll wake her when we’re almost at Silver Springs. She’ll love the scenery. Especially with all the snow. It’s so beautiful.”

  Ginny smiled sleepily to herself, the effects of dopamine growing stronger by the second. Before long, it pulled her from a light doze into full-on sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Ginny woke to a gentle hand jostling her knee.

  “Sweetheart,” her mother said, “we’re about to hit Silver Springs. Sorry to wake you, but we really didn’t want you to miss this.”

  She peeled her eyes open and smiled, then grabbed Deborah’s hand and gave it a fond squeeze. “It’s okay, Mum. I…” She paused for a moment, taking stock of herself. “I actually feel a little better for having had some sleep. And I shouldn’t be sleeping too much now, anyway, should I, otherwise I’ll struggle tonight. I need to get accustomed to the time zone change as soon as possible.”

  “Good point, Moony,” Charlie said, not taking his eyes from the road. “You’ll be all set by the time Santa comes.”

  The two women shared a smirk and an eye roll, before Deborah twisted back to face the front of the car.

  Ginny turned her attention to the world immediately outside the vehicle, which was overwhelmingly white. Aside from the road, which was a meandering strip of dark gray, with pale gray slush piling up at its edges, everything else was white—almost blindingly so. They were in a rural area, with not a building in sight, and the steep road verges leveled out into a flat, snow-covered area. When she looked farther away, Ginny realized the snow hadn’t quite covered everything. As her gaze landed on the beginnings of a wood or forest, she picked out the brown trunks and the occasional glimpse of vibrant green. The enormous trees reached high into the bright blue sky. Ginny craned her neck to try to see the tops, feeling as tiny, as insignificant, as an ant compared to an elephant.

  Shaking her head in awe, she returned her attention to ground level and gasped as something whizzed across her line of sight and disappeared into the trees. What was that? A deer? Cool!

  She sat and watched the world go by, contentment seeping through her, filling her up. It was a true winter wonderland. When she’d left London, it had been hunkered down under gloomy skies which frequently and repeatedly emptied bucketloads of rain onto its inhabitants. No snow, not even the promise of it—much less the thick, pristine stuff which sparkled in the light as though it was scattered with millions of tiny diamonds, like here. To be fair, if London—or any of the UK, for that matter—got an equivalent amount of snow dumped on it, things would grind to a resounding halt. Any more than a sprinkling, and panic ensued. People forgot how to drive sensibly, councils ran out of grit, supermarkets ran out of bread, milk, and eggs. Ridiculous, really—particularly for one of the richest countries in the world.

  Here, though, it seemed everything carried on as normal. At some point, a snow plough had been along and shifted the white stuff off the highway, leaving it free and clear for use. Many of the other vehicles she’d seen were SUVs, much better equipped for inclement weather, and probably sporting snow tires, too. Her parents hadn’t bothered with an SUV, presumably because they rarely left Silver Springs. Their home was also their place of work, and she’d gathered from conversations she’d had with them over the past few years that the small town had pretty much everything they needed to get by. They certainly didn’t seem to miss the multitude of well, everything, that London had to offer.

  Speaking of Silver Springs, Ginny suspected she was about to get her first glimpse. The trees were thinning and, after a moment, buildings broke into view.

  “Here we are, sweetheart,” Deborah said, turning again to grin at her daughter from the front seat, “Silver Springs, New York. Welcome. The retreat is on this side of town, so you won’t get to see much, but you’ve got plenty of time to explore before you go back to London.”

  “Hey, now,” Charlie protested, “she’s only just got here—no need to talk about her going back to London already!”

  “Sorry, darling,” Deborah replied, flashing Ginny an ‘oops’ look before facing front again, “I was just saying. I want Moo—Ginny to have a wonderful time and find out just why we love it here so much.”

  Shaking her head to herself at her mother’s almost slip-up when it came to her preferred moniker, Ginny couldn’t help but smile. They really did seem to love it here. But what did the townsfolk think of them? Had they seen the Miles’ heading off in the car dressed in Santa outfits and thought they were nuts, or had they shaken their heads and smiled fondly, much like Ginny was doing right now? Obviously, she was biased, but she’d always thought of her parents as the type of people it was impossible to dislike.

  She guessed she’d find out soon enough.

  “Don’t worry, Mum, I’m sure I will have a wonderful time. How could I not—I’m with you two. As fo
r exploring your new home, like you said, there’s plenty of time for that. For the rest of today, though, all I want to do is spend time catching up with you guys and checking out the retreat. Is that all right? You haven’t planned for us to go out anywhere, have you?” She bit her lip anxiously. Under normal circumstances, she was incredibly sociable, but after hours of traveling and not much sleep, she wasn’t exactly sparkling company.

  “Of course that’s all right, sweetheart. And no, we haven’t made plans to go anywhere. We knew you’d be exhausted. Your bedroom is all set up ready for you, so you can go and crash whenever you feel like it. We’ve got plenty of food in, and we don’t have any clients until the new year, so it’s just us three for over a week. How wonderful is that?”

  In Ginny’s opinion, wonderful didn’t even come close to covering it. After a few years of spending the festive period busting a gut in commercial kitchens, a nice, quiet Christmas with just her and her parents sounded idyllic. “Perfect, Mum. That sounds just perfect.”

  Silence reigned, then, as Charlie drove them a little farther along the town’s approach road, before turning off next to a large sign which read The Retreat at Silver Springs. The way became more difficult, as asphalt turned to dirt track. To Ginny’s surprise, although the going was bumpier, it was clear of snow. “Do the snow ploughs come down here, too?”

  “Not the public ones,” her father replied. “We’re so high up here that winters are always harsh, so the town clubbed together a few years back and bought a small snow plough for us all to use on our private driveways. It’s not so bad for folks with smaller driveways that basically fit one or two cars and could be cleared by hand or with a snow thrower if necessary. But there are quite a few of us with long tracks, like this one, where shifting the snow with shovels or throwers just isn’t practical—especially when you consider how often it snows in winter. If it was just me and your mother clearing this, by the time we’d got from the retreat to the road, it’d probably have snowed again and obliterated all our hard work. Not to mention killed us off. We might be feeling fit and healthy, but we’re not machines.”