Rick kneels on home plate in full catcher’s gear, takes my left hand and slides a ring on my ring finger. He searches my eyes with his mask up on the top of his head while he holds my left hand in both of his, “Please make me happy and be my wife, Sherry Seno. I promise to do everything in my power to keep you beyond happy for the rest of our lives. I will always love you.”
I stand on the field with a microphone in my right hand, in shock. I can’t move. It feels like hours pass, though it’s only a few seconds. I don’t know what the ring looks like, it doesn’t matter. I love him and I want to be with him and I never want to hurt him and I’ve wanted to be Sherry Seno for longer than I should admit. “Yes! Please!” I have tears in my eyes.
Rick squeezes my hand and stands up, squeezing me, and kissing the daylights out of me right there in front of everybody.
Epilogue
I didn’t realize how badly I wanted it. This man keeps making my dreams come true. My fantasy world, only better than I ever imagined, and real. How did I end up being what makes my fantasy baseball boyfriend happy in real life? This can’t be happening. I must be dreaming again. Somebody pinch me or wake me up. No. Don’t wake me up. I like this dream.
Text from Sam - Did I just see what I think I saw?
Text from Sam - Was that you at home plate with my brother kneeling in front of you and then kissing you?
Text from Sam - I swear that looked like a proposal.
Text from Sam - It looked like a yes.
Text from Sam - Why aren’t you replying to me?
Text from Sam - I need to see the ring.
Text from Sam - Answer me already!
Text to Sam - Why are you texting me in my dream?
Text to Sam - What game are you watching?
Text from Sam - I’m watching the Seals game, just like always. The team my brother is the catcher for and you were on the field and I swear he proposed. Take a picture of your left hand and send it to me now!
Text from Sam - FYI you’re not dreaming!
I look at my left hand, take a picture and send it to Sam. If this is a dream it doesn’t hurt anything. Then I really look at my left hand, the ring looks like a queen’s crown with a diamond solitaire at the center, surrounded by numerous smaller diamonds decorating the crown all the way around my finger. I’m his queen.
I’m not sure what to do. Is this reality? No way. We’ve been together less than six months and I’d never move that quickly, besides he’s a professional baseball player. There’s no way I fit in that equation! Fuck! It’s what I want. Brain repeats—You want this. Heart celebrates—We love him! Everything Rick does is because he knows it will make me happy.
I totally miss the bottom of the eighth and the top of the ninth, realizing the game is over when the announcer says the Seals won and congrats to the Senos!
Text from Sam - You did say yes! OMG, you’re going to be my sister! I can’t wait!
I look up and Rick’s standing at the net in front of me. I move to meet him there as fast as I can. He reaches for my hands at the net. I gaze at him, “Is this real or am I dreaming?”
“I hope it’s real, because you’re my dream come true. I love you, Mrs. Seno.” He says happier than I’ve ever seen him. I’m warm all over and I don’t know what to do with myself. “I’ll be at the car as quick as I can.” He takes off for the clubhouse.
Rick steps into the garage with his huge grin and beelines for me. He kisses me senseless. “Let’s go home, my queen,” as I slide over to be next to him for the drive home.
Diamonds in Paradise
An All About the Diamond Romance #3
My baseball fantasy came true.
For the next two weeks, I get to have him all to myself in my favorite place.
I love Hawaii. The North Shore has always felt like home.
Relaxed Rick with a tropical tan. Shaggy and unshaven. Days without putting a shirt on. His strong chest and abs exposed.
But, when our vacation turns into more, it’s life changing.
I want to give him everything. All he wants is me.
Pre-Order the next book in the series, Diamonds in Paradise (a novella), here.
Muffin Man
A standalone novella
Robbi
“Everybody out!” The manager yells, running through the salon as we all ignore her. She’s not the owner. Problem is the owner is out of town and she’s in charge. She stops and at the top of her lungs, “Evacuate now! It’s going to explode!”
The salon freezes instantly, the calm before the storm. There’s a sudden frenzy of women gathering their necessities, and their clients as they run outside hysterically. I casually get up out of the salon chair and walk out with Deanna, my stylist, close behind me, and avoid the trampling stampede of frantic, high-pitched women.
We all gather outside for the details, but the manager is still in there! She comes running out with the massage therapists and their clients wrapped in robes. It triggers me to survey the scene for what stages of beautification we’re all in. I mean, we all go to the salon for different things. Personally, it’s how I stay blonde and that’s not changing any time soon because I can prove blondes have more fun. The stylists are brushing out their hair, fixing their make-up, taking off aprons. I overhear what’s happening and empathize for some of the poor women in the middle of getting
