The Sweet Spot- Ani & Sebastian's Story

224 Pages·2013·0.8 MB·English

by  Ellman Ariel

The Sweet Spot

Ani and Sebastian’s Story

Book I of the Boston Harbor Romance Series

By Ariel Ellman
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is
entirely coincidental.
The Sweet Spot

© Copyright 2013 by Ariel Ellman All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of
the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or
reviews.

Contact Information: arielellman.com Cover Art by Victoria Ellman Publishing
History: First Edition Kindle Edition
Published by Ariel Ellman
Dedication

This book is dedicated to my best friend and other half – another true lover of
romance books – Jennifer Zairi.

Gawd Sugah…….
Acknowledgements

I would never have been able to write this book without the help,
understanding, love and support of the following people…
My husband Damon, who took over the housework and childcare on the
weekends, and edited and published this book. This journey was a true test for
our marriage! Thank you for working to help my dreams come true.
Our five incredible children, Elijah, Jonah, Gavi, Chava Miriam, and
Zahara (ZZ), who allowed me to put my iPod earphones in and disappear into
myself for the last four months.
My little sister Victoria, who is my Sawyer. This book never would have
happened without your amazing book cover design, photography and website
creation. I will never forget our late nights doubled over our coffee, laughing
hysterically as we screamed over the cave crickets that jumped out at us as we
labored over your laptop screen. You are my greatest supporter and you always
have my back! I love you!
Frank Lugo, the brother of my heart who has always pushed me to go
after my dreams. I know you would go to the ends of the earth for me.
My amazing friend and tireless test reader, Dina Sweifach, whose
opinion as a reader means everything to me, and whose love as my friend heals
my soul.
My Irish consultants, Glen and Rose. Thank you so much for checking
over my Irish for me!
Hana F., thank you for always offering your support and encouragement.
You’re a great friend!
Little Hazel, who isn’t so little anymore, thank you for mother’s helping
during my final editing phase!
My cousin Rob for initial edits and always believing in me.
Linda W., who has always believed in me and pushed me to write.
My brother-in-law Jeff and the boys of N. Wilton Place. Thank you so
much for letting me crash at your place. I wrote some great scenes curled up on
Rene’s futon and drinking coffee among the zombie body parts and gay porn in
your fabulous LA bungalow.
And of course, my other half, Jen Z., who knows what I’m thinking
before I say it, and loves all the complicated parts of me that no one else wants.
You’re my one phone call if I ever get sent away baby…
Chapter One

Ani tucked a stray strand of pale blond hair behind her ear and slid the
glass door to the pastry case closed with a sigh. She loved her little bakery; it
was tiny, standing room only, a storefront in an ancient brick building tucked
into the corner of a cobblestone street in Boston, but it was hers. She didn’t
make anything elaborate, despite the requests that she had received over the
years for fancy custom wedding cakes or designer birthday cakes with
decorative fondant. She often laughed at the line that wound out her bakery door
and around the corner on Saturday mornings as people waited eagerly for her
warm fresh cinnamon rolls, soft crumbly scones, and raspberry almond cream
cheese coffee cake. To her, The Sweet Spot was really just a glorified lemonade
stand, an expanded version of the stand that she ran outside her house when she
was a girl baking with her mother and later on as a teenager trying to make
money to buy a car.
Ani baked everything fresh each day, starting at three a.m., and only sold
a limited selection of what she considered to be her specialties: rich chocolate
brownies with brown sugar cream cheese frosting, her mother’s Irish bread and
butter pudding, melt-in-your-mouth chocolate chip cookies, a small assortment
of scones, rich spicy pumpkin muffins, Guinness cake, and a special cake of the
day. But somehow, even with her limited selection and refusal to take custom
cake orders, her reputation as a divine little bakery had spread and grown, and in
the last four years since she had opened, she rarely had a cookie left in her case
at the end of the day.
Ani was just pulling her long blond hair free from its bun when she heard
the bell on her bakery door tinkle.
“Oh I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she called from behind the curtain that
separated her tiny kitchen from the front counter. It wasn’t quite time for her
daughter to arrive yet, so she figured it must be a last-minute customer. “I’m
closed,” she apologized again, ducking her head out from behind the curtain as
she pulled her apron off.
“Not even a lemon bar left?” a soft husky voice asked. Ani froze
halfway out from behind the curtain, letting her apron fall to the floor unnoticed
as she stood silently and stared at the tall emerald-eyed man standing before her.
He was the same and yet he was different. He was taller, his youthful
teenage body replaced with the broad shoulders of a grown man, and his arms
were hard with tightly defined ink-covered muscles. The mop of unruly blond
curls that Ani used to love running her fingers through as a girl was gone,
replaced with a buzz-cut that accentuated the angles of his face, the sharpness of
his jaw and the brilliance of his startling emerald green eyes. Two teardrop
tattoos rested under his right eye, and a single white rose climbed up his neck.
But it was the tattoo on his throat that mesmerized Ani. She stared, transfixed by
the sight of the Irish Claddagh symbol inked onto Sebastian’s throat in the tangle
of rose thorns that climbed up his neck. The Irish version of her name, Áine,
stared back at her from the center of the Claddagh heart where it was written in
dark ink.
“The Sweet Spot huh?” He stepped closer until the space between them
disappeared and suddenly Ani was sixteen again, lost in the memories of their
bodies tangled together on his sweaty sheets.
“I think I’ve found the sweet spot baby…..” he used to tease as Ani
writhed and moaned beneath his probing fingers. She was drunk on lust in those
days, intoxicated by love. She was in heaven and thought it would last forever.
She had no idea it would all be taken away.
“Oh Bast,” Ani stared back at him in shock. She reached out a hand
hesitantly to touch his face, to see if he was really there.
“Easy,” Sebastian murmured back as Ani’s eyes filled with tears and she
swayed unsteadily on her feet. “Easy there.” He reached for her hands and pulled
her into his arms and against his chest.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ani whispered as she buried her face in
Sebastian’s chest, inhaling deeply. “It’s been almost sixteen years since you’ve
teased me about my sweet spot.”
Almost sixteen years had passed since the day the police had pulled
Sebastian’s arms off of Ani. Almost sixteen years had passed since he’d been
sent to prison for vehicular manslaughter, for driving drunk and accidentally
killing a mother and her three-year old daughter.
“Shhh…..”Sebastian soothed in a deep husky voice that was familiar but
changed, “Shhh.” He rubbed circles up and down Ani’s back as she sobbed huge
wracking sobs into his chest.
“Mommy?” a hesitant voice interrupted from behind them, and Sebastian
dropped his arms as if he’d been scorched. Ani lifted her tear-stained face away
from Sebastian’s chest in a daze and stared at her nine-year-old daughter who
was standing in the doorway of the bakery clutching her lunchbox and backpack
uncertainly. “Are you okay?” Ani’s daughter asked, her big beautiful blue eyes
darting back and forth between Ani and Sebastian’s faces.
“Raffi!” Ani gasped, finally shaking herself out of her daze and walking
over to her daughter. “Mommy’s fine. I’m just happy to see an old friend.” She
gathered her daughter into her arms and hugged her close. “Raffi, this is
Sebastian. Sebastian, this is my daughter Raphael.” Ani locked eyes with
Sebastian. The pain in Sebastian’s eyes was searing, and he closed them
momentarily before taking a deep shuddering breath and kneeling down before
the beautiful dark-haired blue-eyed girl standing before him.
“You have your mother’s eyes,” Sebastian said huskily, his own emerald
eyes bloodshot and wet with hot unshed tears.
Raffi shifted her feet uncomfortably, still clutching her lunchbox and
backpack as she tried to decipher the meaning in the silence that stretched
between her mother and the tall blond man with her mother’s Irish name tattooed
on his neck.
Both Ani and Sebastian were at a loss for words after Ani introduced
Sebastian to her daughter and they stood silently, staring over Raffi’s head and
into each other’s eyes. They were lost in the memories of that life-changing
night so long ago, and the days that followed it. Images of the dead bodies of the
mother and child that Sebastian had hit on the rain-soaked pavement blurred
together with images of Ani in the hospital, blood flowing between her legs. The
memories of the daughter that they never had a chance to have - the daughter
that they lost that night - swam before Sebastian and Ani’s eyes as they
continued to stare at each other in anguish.
“Mom,” Raffi whispered, tugging on her mother’s hand as she stared at
the tears that were sliding down her cheeks. Ani squeezed her eyes shut, unable
to answer her daughter. “I’m calling Aunt Sawyer,” Raffi finally said, dropping
her backpack and lunchbox and reaching into her pocket for her cell phone.
“I’m sorry, I can’t-” Ani’s voice broke as she tried to finish her sentence,
tried to offer some explanation to her daughter as she sank down to the floor
instead. Sebastian walked back to the kitchen to get Ani a glass of water as he
heard the soft murmur of her daughter talking into the phone.
Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. He had waited over
fifteen years to see Ani and she was just as breathtakingly beautiful as he
remembered her at sixteen. She was still slender and willowy, even after having
a child. Her form-fitting jeans accentuated her long legs and narrow waist, and
her deep blue camisole hugged her breasts and deepened the ocean blue of her
eyes. Her hair was long and swinging free and Sebastian yearned to bury his face
in the silky golden strands.
“Aunt Sawyer said she’ll be here in five minutes,” Raffi told her mother,
clutching her phone tightly in her hand. “Mom, are you okay?” she asked again,