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Back First Comes Love Save as PDF
Chapters (92)
  1. First
  2. Love Connection
  3. Zero
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. One Month Later
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Six Months Later
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. Twenty-two
  28. Twenty-three
  29. Twenty-four
  30. Six Months Later
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. I Have Never
  41. One
  42. Two
  43. Three
  44. Four
  45. Five
  46. Six
  47. Seven
  48. Eight
  49. Nine
  50. Ten
  51. Eleven
  52. Twelve
  53. Thirteen
  54. Fourteen
  55. Fifteen
  56. Sixteen
  57. Seventeen
  58. Eighteen
  59. Nineteen
  60. Twenty
  61. Twenty-one
  62. Twenty-two
  63. A Christmas Date
  64. One
  65. Two
  66. Three
  67. Four
  68. Five
  69. Six
  70. Seven
  71. Eight
  72. Nine
  73. Ten
  74. Eleven
  75. Twelve
  76. Thirteen
  77. Fourteen
  78. Fifteen
  79. Sixteen
  80. Seventeen
  81. Eighteen
  82. Nineteen
  83. Twenty
  84. Twenty-one
  85. Twenty-two
  86. Note from the Author
  87. Sneak Peek – To the Stars and Back
  88. Two
  89. Three
  90. Four
  91. Also by Camilla Isley
  92. About the Author

In the lobby, I pause at the reception desk. There’s a line, so I wait my turn impatiently tapping a shoe on the marble floor. The receptionist is a statuesque blonde who must go around LA carrying headshots. Around here, it seems every other person is in their job only temporarily, waiting to make their big break as actors.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” the receptionist finally asks me.

“I’m traveling with Mr. Richard Stratton. He’s staying in room 354. We got separated at a charity gala and his phone must’ve died.” The receptionist keeps on a kind expression, but she’s probably wondering why I’m telling her the story of my life. TMI, Blair. “Anyway, I just wanted to check if Mr. Stratton came back.”

“Very well, I can call his room for you.” The receptionist focuses on the screen in front of her, clicks the mouse twice, and then looks back at me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Mr. Stratton has activated the ‘do not disturb’ function. We cannot contact him at this time.”

“Oh. Does that mean he’s back?”

“The option can only be activated from within the room. So, yes, Mr. Stratton must be in his room.”

“Thanks so much.”

Dread and elation play a boxing match in my guts as I backtrack to the elevator. The fight continues all the way up to the eleventh floor, and by the time I get there dread wins, so I decide to stop in my room first to rally.

Down the hall, a red light next to Richard’s door catches my attention. The words ‘do not disturb’ are spelled clearly underneath the glowing light. Is he sending me a message?

In my room, I pace, trying to decide my next move. Should I really go knock on Richard’s door? To say what? Should I go to bed instead? I wouldn’t sleep. The memory of dancing with Richard is too intoxicating. The feel of his hand clasping mine, his arm around my waist, our bodies pressed together… and his eyes. Oh gosh, even thinking about his stare makes me flush.

I open the window to let some air in, but it’s not the cooling breeze one could expect in New York. Stupid LA heat. This isn’t me. I’m losing my sanity, and I’m not one to lose her head over a guy—especially arrogant, meat-eating, playboy types. I’m also not one to get arrested, adopt a pet, or wear a scandalous dress. This line of thinking suited the old, list abiding me. The new me doesn’t play by the rules.