Everything Old is New Again…
In spite of my friends rolling their eyes when I mentioned a “Message in a Bottle” type of story, the concept lingered in my mind. It’s been done a million times, they said, and they were right. But perhaps I could give it a modern twist; what would that look like? Hmmm… considering our current obsession with Social Media, maybe I could build the story lines around online connections. And so the Love in a Bottle series came to life in my imagination, and on the digital page. For those who haven’t tried this series, here’s
HOW IT ALL BEGAN…
“Flower delivery for Miss Kincaid.”
Damon made a quick entry on his computer, then looked up. “Hi. I’ll take that.” He wheeled his chair around and cleared a space on his desk. “Do you need a signature?”
“Yeah, right here.” The young delivery man tried unsuccessfully not to look at Damon’s legs. “Do you want me to take it in to her?”
“Thanks for the offer but I can manage.” Lauren Kincaid was a great boss and treated him well. Damon protected her fiercely, but even he was reluctant to interrupt her when she was writing her column. She often left it to the last minute, claiming that it gave her writing an edge and today was one of those days. He gave the driver a five dollar tip and admired the arrangement. Someone had spent big bucks. He suspected they might be from Lauren’s current squeeze, but the man had never sent flowers before. Interesting…
Turning his attention back to the computer, he assessed the change he’d made to the company logo. He and Lauren had discussed making subtle alterations to the masthead of #Trending, the lifestyles tabloid that had become a runaway success in Chicago.
At a time when newspapers were folding quicker than a losing hand of poker, both the physical newspaper and the corresponding website had found an enthusiastic readership among Chicago’s young professionals, much to the delight of Lauren’s father. Vincent Kincaid, a former hockey player turned entrepreneur/playboy, made no secret of the fact that he never wanted to grow old, and Lauren suspected that buying the failing publication was one more way of proving himself. Whatever his reason, the gamble had paid off due to a staff of bright young professionals who weren’t afraid to innovate and take chances. Although her father often mentioned #Trending in public, he rarely poked his head inside the building, which suited everyone just fine.
#Trending had never defined itself, which turned out to be a fortuitous – if unintentional – strategy. As a result, one of its strengths was the ability to react quickly to each new ‘gotta-have-it’ fad. In that respect, the name #Trending had been a lucky break.
Staffed with a mixture of journalists and IT professionals, the publication was considered one of the best media employers in the area. Damon Williams was one of several #Trending employees who were graduates of the Medill School of Journalism. Caught on the wrong street during a gang turf war when he was sixteen, a bullet to his lower spine left him dependent on his wheelchair. His plight had come to the attention of a businessman who’d grown up in West Chicago and the man had offered to finance any education the young man wished to pursue. After a short time feeling sorry for himself, Damon got on with his life, graduating from high school before enrolling at Medill.
While studying at Medill, he became friends with Lauren, who ignoring his wheelchair, relentlessly challenged him to be more innovative… more creative… to think outside the box. When Lauren’s father took over the ailing startup, she brought Damon with her and he’d quickly become #Trending’s most valuable tech guru. His first observations were the lack of an on-line presence plus the fact that the publication needed to broaden its reach and scope.
Lauren set up Damon in an office next to hers as her unofficial assistant and continued to challenge him. “Show me your stuff, Yoda,” she said.
“Make you lots of money I will,” he replied and went to work.
Within a year of #Trending’s online launch, they had well over one million followers on Instagram, which in turn fed into their website. As ad revenue increased, Damon’s salary rose accordingly.
Damon glanced into Lauren’s office, but wasn’t surprised to see her still focused on her column. Alexis Whitby, the publication’s editor, had final say on content but Lauren’s instincts were rarely wrong, and she was allowed wide latitude. Lauren’s father might own the publication but as editor, Alexis had to sign off on each article. Damon didn’t even want to think about what would happen if the two women were unable to solve their disagreements. Against all odds, they’d become casual friends and in Damon’s two and a half years of employment, they’d settled their differences of opinion by doing what was best for #Trending. Of course if the day ever arrived when they couldn’t agree, he’d be Team Lauren all the way, but fortunately that didn’t seem likely.
Satisfied with the alterations to the masthead he turned his attention to the Dining section. It needed expanding in the worst – or perhaps he should say the best – way. Requests for ad space increased with every issue, but more content was needed to balance out the ads. He wondered about contacting some freelance writers to provide restaurant coverage and made a note to bring it up at the staff meeting tomorrow.
“When did those flowers arrive?”
She’d startled him but he replied without missing a beat. “About half an hour ago.”
“Thanks for not interrupting me.” She plucked the card from the arrangement. “I’ve sent you the column. Would you mind looking it over before I forward it to Alexis? See if I’m still on track?”
“Will do.” But he was talking to an empty space; she’d already gone back into her office.
He called up the file and was soon lost in her prose. Among other topics, Lauren was writing a series of articles on the singles scene in Chicago, trending toward venues where women could meet available men. He was reminded of a scene in one of his favorite movies where the male love interest says that to attract a man, all a woman had to do was show up. He chuckled every time he watched that scene – partly because of the way the line was delivered and partly because it was true.
* * *
Lauren studied the writing on the card. She wasn’t sure whether or not she would recognize Julian’s handwriting, but something told her he hadn’t personally written the note. Not that it mattered of course, but it would be nice to think he’d gone to the florist himself to place the order.
Don’t be silly, she muttered to herself and tore open the envelope.
“Thanks for last night.” the note said. There was no signature.
She frowned and turned it over. Nothing.
“What the –?” She studied the four words. Was this some sort of code? If so, she didn’t have a clue how to crack it. Not one to waste time, she picked up the phone and called his private number.
“Lauren,” he said, his tone crisp and impersonal.
Alarm bells went off in the back of her mind. She should hang up, but she was her father’s daughter and didn’t back down from anyone.
“I got the flowers,” she said, matching his tone, “but what’s up with the note?”
He sighed. It was one of his affectations that really pissed her off. Maybe it managed to make some people feel small, but it wouldn’t work with her. “You were fantastic last night, Babe. I thought you knew.”
Okay… it was working. She was starting to feel outmaneuvered. “My name is Lauren, and what do you mean ‘you thought I knew’?”
“Listen, Babe. We had a good time, but it’s over.”
“It’s over?” The moment the words were out she wished she could snatch them out of the air and shove them back down her throat.
He was silent for a moment and she wondered if she’d misunderstood. Or maybe this was him playing a game. If so, she wasn’t enjoying it. “Like I said, it’s over. I don’t do repeats. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
She drew on every ounce of control she possessed. “‘Me of all people?’ What does that mean?”
“Come on… you write that column. You’re out and about. You know how many gals are out there every night looking to hook up. I like to spread it around and I don’t do repeats.”
She wanted to tell him to do unspeakable, anatomically impossible things to himself. But she’d already debased herself and wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Without another word she disconnected.
Rising from her chair she walked to the window on legs that barely supported her. The building her father had purchased here in Old Town was one of the classics; it wasn’t tall enough to offer even a glimpse of the lake, but in many ways her view looking down on the busy street was better. People going about their business, singly and together… some on their cell phones, some talking with their companions. The world hadn’t stopped which was odd, considering that she was feeling the same way she’d felt as a child when she’d been watching her father’s team practice and been hit by a hockey puck. But back then her father and all the team members had gathered around, fussing over her and apologizing. Now she was standing here alone, wondering why she hadn’t seen the puck coming.
She shoved the card in her purse, picked up the arrangement and walked out to Damon’s area. He was on the phone and glanced up at her, his brows drawing together.
“Let me call you back,” he said to whoever he’d been talking to.
“Would you please get rid of this?” She was surprised that her voice didn’t waver. “I don’t want them.”
To his credit, he didn’t blink. “Will do.”
She walked toward the exit.
“Boss… about the column.” He only called her Boss when he needed to capture her attention. It wasn’t working.
Lauren couldn’t bring herself to look at him; she was too close to losing it and he knew her too well. She shook her head, gave him a vague wave and stepped onto the elevator.
Damon sat immobile, staring at the closed elevator doors. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Lauren upset, so he had little basis for comparison, but he sensed that she was hurting… big time. The clincher was that she always submitted her column on time… always.
* * *
The late afternoon sun had turned the street into something resembling a movie set. Long shadows contrasted sharply with golden light streaming between the buildings. There was something about the weathered brick of Old Town buildings that spoke of times long past… times when Chicago was new, vibrant and alive… finding its way. Today’s massive chrome and steel structures paled by comparison… at least in Lauren’s eyes.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, she took a deep breath. She’d known where she was headed the moment she disconnected the call. There was one place where she felt secure… safe… in spite of what her friends might think, and she was headed there now.
In its former life, Sneaky Pete’s had been a night club. Its popularity had peaked somewhere around 2010, and its decline had been precipitous. Not surprising… established night spots were hard pressed to keep up with every trend that came along. Sneak’s, as it was known by the regulars, ceased welcoming customers in 2012 and remained closed until 2015, when the property was purchased in a surprisingly quiet transaction. The new owner, in his wisdom, sought out Sean Walker, the formidable bartender of the former club. They met in the dark, dusty interior over coffee and freshly baked iced cinnamon buns. The new owner had done his homework and had learned about Sean’s sweet tooth.
“What, in your opinion, made this a successful club?”
Sean bit into the cinnamon bun, a look of rapture on his face. “Good,” he said, reaching for the coffee.
The new owner waited patiently.
Sean reached for the linen napkin, dabbed at his mouth and lifted his coffee cup. “Most successful clubs have a core group of people.” He took a sip of coffee. “If I knew the formula to success, I’d sell it, but behind all the hype, all the fakery, there’s one constant.” He drained the coffee. “They want somewhere to go where they feel comfortable, where the other customers are like themselves.”
“You sound like a commercial for Cheers.”
“You asked for my opinion.” The former bartender licked his fingers, then wiped them carefully on the napkin… incongruous behavior for a giant of a man with tattooed arms, but he managed to pull it off. “There was never any outright hostility between the regulars and the transient night club crowd, but the regulars slowly drifted away and when the others moved on to the latest thing, the bottom fell out.”
“What would it take to get them back? The regulars I mean.”
Sean looked around, visualizing the possibilities. “How much money do you have?”
The new owner shrugged. “Enough.”
Sean nodded. “This is a fairly affluent neighborhood, plus there are some high powered businesses operating quietly out of the old buildings.” He shot a quick look at the other man. “But I guess you already know that.”
“Go on.”
“Okay. Here’s what I’d do. I’d hire the best chef you can get your hands on and feature him as one of the attractions. Offer really great bar food plus only a few entrees. Steak of course, ribs, pasta, something for the vegetarians and maybe one seafood dish. Crab casserole or something like that. None of that nouvelle cuisine type nonsense. And I’d change the atmosphere.” He glanced toward the far wall. “Booths along that wall with partitions between them high enough that customers can have a private conversation. And whatever you do, don’t discourage people in the booths from ordering only drinks; they’ll eat eventually. Some tables here in the center… not too crowded… and a killer bar with comfortable stools stocked with all the premium brands.” He grinned. “And of course, me behind the bar. Create the atmosphere of a gentleman’s club.”
“What about attracting women?”
Sean chuckled softly. “You haven’t dated recently, have you?”
The new owner lifted his shoulders.
“Trust me, women will appear like magic if the men are here. “You’ll be making your monthly nut in six months.”
Sean was wrong. Within six weeks Sneak’s became an area favorite. Of course it didn’t hurt that the new owner was a friend of Vincent Kincaid, the owner of #Trending. Sean and Lauren hit it off when she wrote two columns featuring the place – one just before they opened and another a couple of weeks later.
* * *
Lauren paused for a moment outside Sneak’s; she’d never brought Julian here. Maybe that was why she felt right coming here to lick her wounds; there were no memories of him within its walls. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
In the few moments it took for her eyes to adjust she saw that there were about half a dozen other customers; two couples in booths and two singles at the bar. Sean’s eyebrows rose marginally when he saw her, but he nodded and continued polishing glasses.
She walked to the far end of the bar, climbed onto a stool and checked out the two men at the bar, relieved when they paid her no attention.
Sean placed a coaster in front of her, his eyes probing hers. Was her upset that obvious? “I need something different today, Sean. How about some of that Chambord you let me taste last week. A double, on the rocks.”
A flicker of a smile touched his lips. “Bien sûr, mademoiselle.”
He placed the drink in front of her, accompanied by a bowl of peanuts and then walked away.
Lauren stirred the drink with the short straw, licked the straw and then placed it carefully on the napkin, aligning it precisely with the edge. Aware that she’d been holding herself too tightly, she took a sip of the rich liqueur and let it trickle down her throat. She told herself that she could taste the Loire Valley in the sweetness of the raspberries that were used to create the drink. That wasn’t true of course… she was simply avoiding thinking about the dismissive tone in Julian’s voice, avoiding the fact that to him she’d been nothing more than another conquest. Tapping her fingernails against the side of the glass she stared into the dark liquid and vowed it would be a long time before she’d trust another man.
* * *
“Where is she, Damon?” Alexis Whitby waved her cell phone at Lauren’s assistant. “I’ve been trying to contact her, but she has her cell phone turned off.”
“Is it something I can help you with?”
Alexis pulled up the sleeve of her silk blouse and checked her watch. “Only if you can produce her column in the next five minutes.”
“Then I’m your man.” He motioned to his computer screen. “She sent it to me to look over. If you’d like to go into her office I’ll send it back to you.”
“Thank you.” She strode past him and stopped abruptly. “She didn’t shut down her computer. What’s up? That’s not like Lauren at all.”
Damon raised his hands in the classic ‘dunno’ gesture.
Alexis sat down and started reading, issuing a couple of small grunts of approval as she reviewed the column. “Okay, can I leave it to you to upload it?”
“Will do.”
“But first, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m not really sure I know.”
She seemed to be making up her mind about something. “All right. I appreciate your loyalty, but this feels different somehow. Can you at least tell me where she went?”
Damon agreed. This did feel different, and maybe another woman was what Lauren needed right now. “She didn’t tell me, but if I had to guess, I’d say she went to Sneak’s.”
The editor’s eyes widened marginally, then she nodded. “Thank you Damon.”
* * *
Sean felt a surge of relief when Alexis stepped through the door of the bar. Silhouetted against the remaining daylight, she was tall, blonde and classically elegant. The two men at the bar spotted her and sat up a little straighter. Probably sucked in their guts, too. Sean hid a smile. The bartender was glad she was here; Lauren had finished her first drink far too quickly and was starting on her second. He tilted his head toward the end of the bar. Alexis caught the movement and nodded her thanks.
Alexis climbed onto the stool next to Lauren and braced her elbows on the bar. “What’s good here?”
“Everything.” Lauren rolled the two straws back and forth on the napkin. Her hand was a bit shaky as she raised her glass to her lips, but she managed to take a drink.
“He dumped me, Lexi. The no-good hedgie dumped me.”
Sean held up a bottle of white wine and Alexis nodded. Lauren had rejected the term ‘hedgie’ when Alexis first coined it but things had evidently changed. She’d never liked the hedge fund manager but thought she’d managed to hide the fact from Lauren.
“Thanks,” she said as Sean placed a glass of wine in front of her. She took a sip and waited a few beats, while Lauren stirred the ice in her drink with her finger.
“I’m not usually that wrong about people,” she said, turning slightly toward the other woman. “You know?”
Alexis gave her a smile of encouragement.
“We’d been taking things slowly, getting to know each other. At least I thought that’s what we were doing.” She took a deep breath. “Last night we went out for dinner and I invited him back to my place for drinks. Things progressed, and well…”
“You slept with him.”
“It’s been six weeks.”
“I wasn’t criticizing. So what happened?”
Lauren closed her eyes for a moment. “I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. It doesn’t even feel real.” Opening her eyes she reached for her glass but didn’t drink. “Now that I look back, he left fairly quickly. Had some sort of excuse about a meeting before the markets open.”
“Was the sex any good?”
“That’s all you want to know?”
“Well, was it?”
“Not really.”
“No loss, then.”
“You’re right, but that’s not the bad part.” This time she did take a drink. “The a-hole actually sent flowers to the office today. The card was cryptic, so I called him. Know what he said?”
Alexis’ cool blue eyes said she could probably guess.
“He said he didn’t do repeats. At first I didn’t understand what he was saying… or maybe I didn’t want to understand. He said because I write that column I should understand, because there are lots of women out there looking to hook up.” She gave a strangled laugh. “And then he said he likes to ‘spread it around’. Those were his exact words, ‘I like to spread it around and I don’t do repeats.’” She shoved her glass away with the backs of her fingers. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Alexis reached out and rubbed her between the shoulder blades. “No, you’re not. Take some deep breaths.”
Lauren looked around the bar, focusing on familiar items. “Sorry I ran out. I take it Damon gave you the column.”
“Yes. It’s a good one.”
“Maybe I should stop writing about the singles scene. I mean look at me. I’m twenty six years old, never married, and the only men in my life are my father, who has every rich widow in town on speed dial, a tech whiz who’s stuck in a wheelchair and a bartender.”
Alexis stared into her wine. “What does that make me, then?” She blinked back rare tears. “Married to a man who was supporting a younger woman and her child while he was married to me.”
“Sorry, Lexi. I –”
Alexis held up a hand. “I didn’t mean to make it about me.” She took a sip of wine. “But sometimes I wonder if we’d have better luck if we wrote what we want on a piece of paper, stuck it in a bottle and threw it in the river.”
This elicited a chuckle from Lauren. “Maybe you’re right. We can’t do much worse.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, lost in thought. Finally Lauren spoke. “Do you mind if I leave? I think I’ll go back to the office for a minute and then go home. I’ll settle up with Sean on the way out.”
Alexis waved a hand. “See you tomorrow.”
* * *
The office was quiet when Lauren let herself inside. Not sure why she’d come back, she slouched in her office chair and stared at the screen saver on her computer. Today marked a turning point in her life, but she had no idea what was around the corner.
“I don’t have to decide,” she muttered out loud, reaching for the mouse and activating the screen.
“Talking to yourself?”
She turned to see Damon in the doorway to her office.
“Hope I didn’t startle you.”
“Not really.”
“Alexis found you?”
“Yeah, thanks for sending her my way.”
“Do you want some coffee?”
“I think I just want to get out of here.”
“I meant upstairs, at my place.”
She gave him an odd look. “You’ve never invited me up to your place before.” When Lauren explained to her father how valuable Damon was to the business, he converted half of the top floor into a suite for him.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
She put her computer to sleep and stood up. “I could use some coffee right about now.” They headed for the elevator. “You know, in movies it always looks so cool when people drown their sorrows at the bar, but it doesn’t solve anything.”
Damon offered a wry smile. “Some people never learn that.” He rolled off the elevator and pressed a button beside the door. “Welcome to my home.”
Lauren stopped several feet inside the door. “Wow,” she said. “This is beautiful.”
“I like it. Check out the kitchen. Your father had all of the cabinets custom made so I could work at them from my chair. The dude is seriously cool.”
“I love all the plants and the comfortable furniture. And the space, but of course you’d need that to get around.”
“If you like plants, go out on the balcony. I practically live out there when I’m not working on the computer.”
Lauren pressed another button and the sliding doors opened silently. “This must be the most beautiful outdoor space I’ve ever seen. Do you ever use that barbecue?”
“Not often, but don’t tell your father; it was his idea. Would you like to have your coffee out here?”
“Are you kidding? Yes!!” Lauren settled back on a lounge and looked up at the tall buildings a couple of blocks away on North Lake Shore. She could see the back of her building, but somehow this felt much better.
Damon went inside and was back a few minutes later with a tray.
Lauren jumped up and placed the tray on a side table. “Coffee and biscotti. You think of everything.”
Damon smiled. “Gina makes sure we always have plenty. Something about a family tradition.” He reached for a biscuit and dunked it in his coffee. “Now I’m hooked.”
“Not a bad thing to be hooked on.”
Damon raised an eyebrow. “Biscotti or Gina?”
“Both, I guess.” She bit into her biscotti. “You sound happy.”
“I am. Doesn’t seem possible but we’ve been together for about two years now.”
“At least one of us is happy.”
Damon watched her carefully… silently.
“What hurts is that I misjudged him so completely,” she said. “Last night was the first time we… you know… had sex.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m boring you with this.”
“And the flowers were a kiss-off? That’s raw. At least my Mom likes them.”
“You sent them to your Mom? That’s great.”
“She thought so. But back to this guy. He doesn’t deserve you Lauren. I know this is easier said than done, but forget you ever knew him. When you least expect it, someone will come along and sweep you off your feet.”
“Is that what happened with you and Gina?”
“Yeah.” He motioned to his legs. “Except for the sweeping part. Our friends say that watching us was like watching a romantic movie.”
“Stop it, you’re going to make me cry.” But Lauren was smiling. “Know what Alexis said this afternoon? She said we’d have better luck if we wrote a note, shoved it in a bottle and threw it in the river.” She gave him a sideways glance. “What do you think?”
He had that strange distant look on his face – the one he got when he was puzzling something out.
“What?”
“She just might have something there.”
“Come on, she was just kidding.”
“I get that, but I was thinking about the website and how many people read it. What if you did a piece suggesting that very thing? We could ask for feedback… or not, that would depend on you and Alexis. What’s the old expression… ‘everything old is new again’? But my Spidey senses tell me it’s such a crazy idea that people will be sharing it all over the place. After all, this business is about more page views.”
His enthusiasm was contagious. “Damon Williams, I think you’ve got something there.” She sipped her coffee. “What would we call it?”
He laughed. “That part’s easy. You call it LOVE IN A BOTTLE. I’ll even come up with a graphic for you.”
She grabbed another biscotti and nibbled it thoughtfully. “I’ll do it!” She jumped up.
“Where are you going?”
“Downstairs to my office while the idea is fresh in my head.” She took a few steps and then turned back. “Thanks for the coffee… and the idea. I’ll see you in the morning.” She made it as far as the door before turning back again. “I hope we’re paying you enough.”
He shook his head. “I’m well paid, but thanks for asking.”
She spun around. “Okay then. Tomorrow.”
* * *
Lauren was already in her office when Damon rolled in the next morning.
“Did you go home?” he teased. She was clearly wearing different clothes.
“Of course, and I slept very well, thank you very much. By the way, thanks for the graphic. I’ve put it together and sent it to you. Let me know what you think.”
Damon hadn’t seen her so enthused about a project for a long time. He turned on his computer and started to read.
What to do when
Mr. Right
Becomes
Mr. Wrong.
As I move through the singles scene here in Chicago, I’m constantly meeting women who tell me they’re beginning to think they’ll never find the right man. It’s the same all over the country, so I’m told.
A friend of mine recently had a suggestion that, at first blush, seems off the wall. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. What is it?
LOVE IN A BOTTLE
I can hear you now. “She’s crazy,” you’re saying. “They do that in movies and even then it usually doesn’t work out.”
True… but what if it did? What if you were brave enough to be brutally honest about what you expect from a partner… Keep in mind that this can work for both men and women. Forget about the picture that shows the way you looked ten years ago… twenty pounds lighter and skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Forget about pretending you’d like to hike the West Coast Trail when a quiet walk through your local park is more your style. Forget about pretending you’re a gourmet cook when you have the world’s largest collection of take-out menus.
Got kids? Be proud of them. He (or she) is going to find out eventually.
I guess what I’m saying is be honest about who you are and what you want. Write it down, put it in a waterproof bottle, set it free and then forget about it. Even if your missive is never found, you’ll know yourself a little better. And who knows, you just might find the love of your life.
If you do, be sure to let us know.
* * *
Damon read it twice, aware that Lauren was watching him eagerly.
“Dang, girl. This is good. It’s a perfect blend of “I dare you” and “I’m not really serious.”
Lauren grinned. “That’s exactly what I was aiming for.”
“There is one problem though.” He managed to keep a straight face. “Are you ready?”
“No, but you’re going to tell me anyway, so go ahead.”
“I think this is going to catch on like wildfire. We’re going to be swamped with their stories. Not right away, but when they start to come in, they’ll be mega popular.”
“You think so?”
“I do.” He thought for a moment. “We’ll need to consult with Chase and ask him for a disclaimer to put on the site about comments being public. He’ll know how to handle that aspect.”
“Do you want to take care of that?”
“Sure.” In an average month Damon spoke with the lawyer several times. “I assume you’re going to reconfirm with Alexis but in the meantime I’ll go ahead and build a special area for it.” He paused. “I love the idea of readers sharing their ideas. It’s not even live yet and I’m already anxious to read the first one.”
End of Intro
The first book in the series is free. Find it here:
https://www.monaingram.com/book-series/love-in-a-bottle-series
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