Marrying Olivia Chapter 3 Preview

Marrying Olivia Chapter 3 Preview

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One more drink turned into two, then three, as the minutes stretched into hours at Rhymes. The bar grew quieter as the night wore on, but we hardly noticed, too caught up in each other.

The world beyond our little bubble faded into irrelevance. All that existed was Liv — the sparkle in her green eyes as she talked, the musical lilt of her laughter, the way her knee brushed against mine under the table, sending sparks racing up my thigh.

We’d been talking for hours, the drinks before us long forgotten, our voices growing hoarse. But I couldn’t bear to let the night end.

“My sister hated me for a while when the buzz started growing around us.”

Liv laughed. “I doubt that.”

“No, she definitely did,” I said, my voice taking on a more sombre tone. “She was thirteen. It didn’t last long, but it wasn’t all that surprising.”

She leaned forward, an elbow resting on the bar, her eyes filled with genuine interest. “What happened?”

“Tegan was one of my biggest supporters from the start.” I sighed, the memory playing out in my mind as if no time had passed. “She was always there, cheering me on at every gig, telling anyone who would listen that her big brother was going to be a star.”

“That’s sweet.”

My sister’s excited face filled my mind, her eyes shining with pride as she watched me from the front row of those early shows.

“But then, almost overnight, it was like a switch flipped. She got moody, started snapping at me for no reason. It was so out of character for her, and I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong.”

Liv’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “That must have been tough, especially with everything else you were dealing with at the time.”

“It was.” I paused, swallowing around the lump that had formed in my throat. Even after all these years, my memories of that time were still a mixed bag of bittersweet and painful emotions. “Turns out, she was jealous.” I shook my head, forcing a laugh I could barely feel.

She smiled, but the edges were brittle as she watched me with shrewd eyes, no doubt seeing through me.

“I’d been invited to my first BAFTA show. I was going to meet all of her favourite celebrities, and she hated that she was being left out.” I twisted my glass on the bar top, my attention fixing on it, unable to look at her as I said, “On top of that, she was convinced I was going to forget about her once I became famous.”

The idea of it was laughable then and now. Even after her death, she was never far from my thoughts. To think I could ever forget my family.

“I couldn’t let her think that. Tee was my world, y’know?” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “So I did the only thing I could think of — I made her my plus-one.”

Liv laughed.

“You should’ve seen her face when I told her. It was like I’d handed her the moon on a silver platter.”

“I bet she was ecstatic.” She reached for my hand, prying it away from my empty glass and lacing her fingers through mine.

“She was. Spent weeks planning her outfit, practising her ‘I’m so excited to meet you’ speech in the mirror.” I shook my head, a fond grin tugging at my mouth despite the sadness creeping in at the edges. “The night of the show, she was practically vibrating with excitement. I thought she might actually combust when we got to the red carpet.”

Liv laughed, the sound melodic and soothing. “I can only imagine. Thirteen-year-old me would’ve been the same way.”

“It was a great night. We laughed, we danced, we tried to spot all the celebrities. She was in her element, charming everyone she met with her endless enthusiasm.” I paused, my throat tightening as the memory played out. Tegan’s smile, her laughter, the way she’d hugged me so tightly at the end of the night, whispering ‘thank you’ over and over.

“Lewis?” Liv’s gentle voice pulled me back to the present. “Where’d you go just now?”

I blinked, surprised to find my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Sorry, I just...” I cleared my throat, trying to find the words.

I could see the questions in her eyes, the curiosity warring with hesitation. But she didn’t push. I’m not sure what I would have said if she did.  I didn’t want to go down that road, not tonight.

Instead, she smiled, a mischievous glint entering her gaze. “Y’know, all this talk of childhood memories has got me thinking about the summer I discovered my one true love.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And who might that be?”

“Not who, what.” A playful smile teased her lips. "I'm talking about the juiciest, most irresistible dessert to ever grace my taste buds — the incomparable peach cobbler."

“Can’t say I saw that one coming.”

“Nobody ever does.” She shifted in her seat, shaking her head like that was a great oversight. “It all started when I was about ten years old. Our town librarian, Delphine Broussard, had just gotten back from visiting her sister in Georgia.”

The gleam in her eyes as she spoke was captivating. I couldn’t help but imagine her as a child, all wide-eyed wonder and insatiable curiosity.

I’d give anything to see that look on her face every day for the rest of my life.

“Back then, I had no idea what a peach cobbler even was. All I knew was that Delphine walked into the library one morning with this big white box, and the smell...” She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as if she could still smell it. “It was like nothing I’d ever smelled before. Sweet, heavenly.”

The way she closed her eyes in bliss had me shifting in my seat, adjusting my suddenly hardening erection while trying to keep my mind out of the gutter. Not so helpful images of other things that might make her react like that filled my mind, her eyes closed, lost in pleasure.

“I was curious as a cat, of course. I pestered Delphine with questions - what was in the box, where did it come from, could I have one? She just laughed and told me to be patient, that she’d share her treasure with the whole town at storytime that afternoon.”


Liv nodded. “She was always travelling, always bringing back stories and souvenirs from her time away from town. She would gather everyone who cared to listen to her in the town gazebo the day she returned and basically hold court over us all.” She chuckled. “Not that it took much for her to captivate me and my big imagination. Waiting was nothing short of torture for me.”

My sister had been exactly the same. She wanted everything right then and there. If they’d have invented teleportation, she would have been the first person offering herself up as a test dummy.

“By the time three o’clock rolled around, half the town had squeezed into the gazebo, all of us eager for a taste of whatever was in that mysterious box.”

“And then she opened it?”

“And then she opened it,” Liv confirmed, her voice hushed with remembered awe. “And I swear, Lewis, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

She groaned and yet again I had to adjust myself.

“They tasted like a dream. The second that peach cobbler touched my tongue, I knew I’d found my soulmate in pastry form. It was everything good in this world.” She sighed happily, lost in the memory. “From that day on, I was hooked. I begged my mama to learn how to make them, scoured every cookbook in the library for a recipe.”

“Did you find one?”

“Yes, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t recreate it.” She continued to smile, unfazed by her inability to master the pastry. “Mama, seeing how frustrated I got with my failure, talked Hattie, our local baker, into taking a whack at it.”

“And did she succeed?”

“Well, of course.” She looked almost affronted at the question and I covered my mouth to hide my amusement. “Hattie Mayfield fails at nothing.”

“I’m sure.”

“She doesn’t.” Liv’s eyes narrowed.

“I believe you.” I squeezed her hand and her smile returned.

“Anyway, from that day on, they were all I would order when I went into Mayfield’s bakery. Right up until the day I left town.”

“A creature of habit, I see,” I teased, enjoying the way her nose scrunched up.

“Hey, when you know what you like, you stick with it,” she defended, pointing a playful finger at me. “You know what’s funny? The whole town knows when I’m back home, just by my mama’s bakery order.”


“Yep. My mama, she usually gets a croissant delivered every morning. But when I’m in town? She switches it up to cobbler. Says it’s her way of letting Jasmine Bay know their songbird has returned to the nest.”

“That sounds...” I shook my head, unable to form words with the image of an entire town abuzz with excitement, all because of a pastry order.

“Laugh all you want, but in a small town, that’s big news,” she said, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I swear, it’s like a real-life Stars Hollow sometimes.”

“I’ll have to visit sometime, see this magical peach cobbler for myself.”

Surprisingly, I meant it. I’d never been attracted to the small-town America image. Hell, I had run from my small-town Valley life as fast as I could. 

“Is that so?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave, her gaze locking with mine.

“Mhmm. I mean, after all this build-up, I think I deserve a taste, don’t you?” I knew we weren’t just talking about pastries anymore, and from the way her breath hitched, she knew it too.

“I think that could be arranged,” she murmured, leaning in until our faces were inches apart. “I’d be more than happy to give you a personal tour of Mayfield’s... among other things.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes dropping to her lips, my mind conjuring all sorts of images of her ‘personal tours.’ “I’ll hold you to that, cariad.”

She smiled, slow and sultry, her fingers tightening around mine. “Oh, I’m counting on it, rock star.”

The air between us crackled with tension, the anticipation building with every shared breath, every brush of skin on skin. It would be so easy to close the distance, to taste those tempting lips, to see if she was as sweet as the cobbler she praised.

“Last call!” the bartender announced, shattering the moment like a hammer to glass. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

I blinked, the spell momentarily broken.

“Wow, guess we closed the place down, huh?” Liv glanced around, seeming as surprised as I was.

“Guess so,” I agreed, though every fibre of my being rebelled against the idea of letting her go. “Time flies when you’re in good company.”

She ducked her head, a pleased flush colouring her cheeks. “I’ll say. I can’t remember the last time I talked this much. My voice is going to hate me tomorrow.”

“Worth it though, right?” I raised a brow, hoping I wasn’t alone in feeling the undeniable pull between us.

Her gaze met mine, soft and warm with promise. “Definitely worth it.”

I settled the tab and we gathered our things, the air heavy with unspoken questions. What now? Where did we go from here?

* * *

She turned to me as we stepped out into the balmy Los Angeles night. The street was alive with energy, strains of music and laughter floating on the breeze.

“I’m not ready to say goodnight just yet.” Her hand found mine, fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Walk with me for a bit?”

“I’d love to.”

“I love this city at night,” she said, her head tipped back to take in the towering buildings, the palm trees swaying in the breeze. “It’s like anything is possible, you know? Like magic could be waiting around any corner.”

I watched her, mesmerised by the play of city lights across her face, the way her eyes sparkled with wonder. She was right - there was magic in the air tonight, a sense of possibility that crackled like electricity.

I’d never get enough of looking at her.

“I’ve lived here for a decade, and the city still finds ways to surprise me.”

She turned to me, her smile soft and knowing. “But it’s different, isn’t it? Seeing it through someone else’s eyes?”

“It is.” I nodded, my gaze locked with hers. Her fresh perspective was like a portal back to my eighteen-year-old self, still free of the scars and pressure that came with being at the top.

We walked on, the comfortable silence broken only by the occasional comment or observation. Liv was endlessly fascinated by everything, from the street art to the buskers serenading the passersby.

“I can’t believe I’m really here.” Pure awe filled her voice. “In Los Angeles, about to go on tour with The Brightside. It’s like a dream come true.”

I chuckled, charmed by her enthusiasm. “Believe it, cariad. This is just the beginning.”

She grinned, bumping her shoulder against mine. “And what a beginning it is. I mean, teen me would be losing her mind if she could see me right now, strolling the streets of LA with Lewis Davies.”

I raised a brow, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Teen you, huh? Should I be flattered or concerned?”

She laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Oh, definitely flattered. You were plastered all over my bedroom walls back in the day. I used to dream about moments like this.”

Something warm and possessive unfurled in my chest. “And? How does reality measure up?”

She looked at me, her eyes dancing with mischief and something deeper, something that made my blood heat. “The reality, Lewis Davies, is blowing my teenage fantasies out of the water.”

I swallowed hard, my grip on her hand tightening. “Good to know.”

We came to a stop at a street corner, waiting for the light to change. Liv turned to face me, her free hand coming up to rest on my chest. The heat of her touch burned through the thin fabric of my shirt - as if I needed to be any more aware of this woman.

Her gaze dropped to my lips, her tongue darting out to wet her own. My breath caught, my heart pounding a furious rhythm beneath her hand.

I searched her face for any hint of hesitation or doubt but found none. Her eyes were bright with desire, her cheeks flushed. Every line of her body radiated want, need, an aching hunger that matched my own.

I knew I should be cautious, that kissing her here on a public street was a risk. Anyone could see us, snap a photo, start the rumour mill churning.

She rose up on her toes while I ducked my head, capturing her mouth with mine, pouring every ounce of the desire, the longing, the need that had been building between us all night into the kiss.

She responded with equal fervour, her arms winding around my neck, her body moulding to mine like it was made to fit there.

I lost myself in the taste of her, in the feel of her soft curves pressed against my body. She was intoxicating, addicting, and I knew I would never get enough. My tongue swept into her mouth, tangling with hers in a dance that left us both breathless.

When we finally broke apart, chests heaving and eyes glazed, I rested my forehead against hers, a smile playing at the corners of my kiss-swollen lips.

“Wow,” she breathed, her fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of my neck.

“Wow indeed.” I stole another quick, hard kiss, unable to help myself. “That was...”

“Even better than I imagined.” She grinned, nipping at my bottom lip.

I groaned, my hands flexing on her hips. “Keep talking like that and I might just have to take you home with me.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of my ear as she whispered, “Promise?”

My blood roared in my ears, my body tightening with need. “Oh, I promise. But only if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

She pulled back, her gaze locking with mine, clear and certain. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”


Series: True Platinum #7

Genre: Rock Star Romance

Release Date: May 23, 2024

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Morgana Bevan British celebrity romance author

Meet Morgana

Morgana Bevan is a sucker for a rock star romance, particularly if it involves a soul-destroying breakup or strangers waking up in Vegas. She’s a contemporary romance author based in Wales. When Morgana’s not writing steamy celebrity romances with gorgeous British rock stars and movie stars, she’s travelling the world, searching for inspiration.

She enjoys travelling, attending gigs, and trying out the extreme activities she forces on her characters