The Paris Connection. Cerella Sechrist
“You’re late.”
Emma hurried after the new CEO as he began walking away from the airport taxi stands.
“The traffic was atrocious, even by Paris standards.”
He barely glanced over his shoulder when he spoke. “Is that how your company has been run up to this point? Standing people up and offering flimsy excuses? No wonder your boss agreed to this merger.”
These words were like a slap in the face. She halted briefly and then propelled herself forward and ahead of him so that he was forced to follow her in the direction of the car park.
“It was unavoidable,” she said. “You don’t understand what driving in Paris can be like.”
“It can’t be any worse than New York City,” he countered, “and I’ve always managed that just fine.”
“This is not New York. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
“Believe me,” he ground out, “I am all too aware of the distinction.”
She didn’t wait to see if Cole Dorset followed. He called after her, but she didn’t stop, not until he finally used the company name.
“Aquitaine!”
She halted and turned, waiting for an apology.
“Here.” He passed her the smaller of his two bags and kept walking.
Dear Reader,
I have something to confess. I’ve never been to Paris. But for years now, I’ve heard my Francophile sister wax long and poetic on the allure of the most romantic of European cities. I’ve received postcards during her visits there featuring images of statues and paintings, streets and cafes. She’s gifted me with macarons and left me voice messages entirely in French (even though I don’t speak the language). So when I began to create the characters for The Paris Connection, it was easy to envision Emma, a woman who left behind the familiarity of the United States for the attraction of France.
And through Emma, I learned to love this city I’ve never seen, just as she sets out to convince her boss, Cole, of its beauty and charm. From Cole’s first appearance in my novel, Gentle Persuasion, I knew when he truly fell in love, he would fall hard, and he needed a city that could accommodate that experience.
With Cole and Emma’s journey, I came to realize that Paris is a place for dreamers, a city steeped in both history and romance, and that it is best appreciated by those who understand affairs of the heart. It is a feeling, as much as a place, that reminds us of the thrill and joy that come with falling in love.
Whether you’ve ever visited France or not, I’d love to hear your thoughts about Cole and Emma’s story and the city at the heart of The Paris Connection. You can email me through my website at www.cerellasechrist.com.
Cerella Sechrist
The Paris Connection
Cerella Sechrist
CERELLA SECHRIST
lives in York, Pennsylvania, with two precocious pugs, Darcy and Charlotte, named after Jane Austen literary characters. She has won various competitions and a scholarship for her writing, which includes devotionals, full-length plays and novels. Her debut novel, Love Finds You in Hershey, Pennsylvania, recently rereleased with Love Inspired. Cerella divides her time between working in the office of her family’s construction business and as a barista to support her reading habit and coffee addiction. Her novels exhibit her love for both the written word and food in fiction. You can find her online at her website, www.cerellasechrist.com, where she pens Literary Fare: Fiction & Food, a blog for readers.
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Dedicated to my sister, Carissa:
If my life were a novel, you’d be everyone’s favorite character. Thanks for being one of the best parts of my story.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
A BLARING HORN caused Emma Brooks to cringe as she cut a sharp right and narrowly avoided sideswiping the vehicle next to her. She quickly accelerated past the tiny smart car and sped through the roundabout in an attempt to get ahead, only to slam on the brakes when another car cut her off.
“Ah! Crazy Parisian drivers!”
She jerked the wheel and quickly eased into a rare car-length gap as she continued heading in the direction of Charles de Gaulle Airport. She checked the time and bit back a groan. She was already twenty minutes late with no end to the Paris traffic in sight.
“This is why I travel by métro in the city,” she announced to the empty car. She had lived in Paris for ten years and had never learned to embrace the daredevil driving of the French. She used to tell her ex-husband, Brice, that if she wanted to take her life into her