Samara, A Kilenya Romance (Kilenya Romances Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Samara

  Note from the author:

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments:

  Samara: A Kilenya Romance

  Andrea Pearson

  Copyright 2011 Andrea Pearson

  Book design and layout copyright 2011 Andrea Pearson

  Cover design copyright 2011 Andrea Pearson

  Kindle Edition

  Books by Andrea Pearson:

  The Kilenya Series:

  The Key of Kilenya

  The Ember Gods, Kilenya Series Book Two

  August Fortress, Kilenya Series Book Three

  Rise of Keitus, Kilenya Series Book Four

  Eyes of the Sun, Kilenya Series Book Five

  The Golden Symbol, Kilenya Series Book Six

  The Key of Kilenya: Special Edition with Illustrations

  Grail Bestiary Volume I: Creatures of Grail and Kilenya

  Kilenya Romances:

  Samara, A Kilenya Romance

  Midian, A Kilenya Romance

  Katon University:

  Discern, Katon University Book One

  The Focus (A Katon University First Year Novella)

  The Manor (A Katon University First Year Novella)

  The Angel (A Katon University First Year Novella)

  Praxis Bundle One: The Focus, The Manor, The Angel

  Perceive, Katon University Book Two (coming early 2015)

  Ranch City Academy:

  Bezza’s Book of Enchantments (coming mid 2015)

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Summary: When Samara Oldroyd meets the most amazing guy ever, she's frustrated their conversation is cut short. Her wishes that they'll run into each other again come true when she meets her sister's new boyfriend. It's him! Eeek!

  Inspired by the film Dan in Real Life, this novella will tickle you pink as Samara tries—in vain—to undo her crush.

  To my husband

  For his unwavering affection and patience.

  I love you!

  Samara

  Out of several strong candidates, I, Samara Oldroyd, was selected to manage a carful of siblings on a four-hour road trip.

  Okay, I’m kidding. I say the stupidest things sometimes for a sixteen-year-old. I was the only candidate, since I’m the only kid in my family who mostly does smart things.

  Crunch.

  I could taste the cheese dust in the air. It was making me sick.

  Crunch.

  I put my book down when Molly, my older sister, growled loudly, clenching her fists around the steering wheel. “C’mon, Cale!” she shrieked, starting the umpteenth mini-battle. “Knock it off.”

  Cale, sitting behind her, kicked her seat. “I’m not doing anything—just eating my Cheetos.”

  Maybe it was his fault the war started. He was only six, but he certainly made Molly screech a lot. And Molly’s screams could shatter glass.

  “Yeah, you’re crunching way too loud. And stop kicking my seat.” She reached behind her, grabbing his leg, and the car swerved.

  I lunged for the wheel. “Eyes on the road, Molly.”

  “We’re going to die!” ten-year-old Grayden yelled from the seat next to Cale. “Mom! Save us!”

  “Stop yelling,” Molly said, hands finally at ten and two. “Mom can’t hear you. And no, we’re not going to die.” She glared out the windshield. “Argh. I’m so sick of little brothers . Samara, please control them.”

  Like that was possible. I rolled my eyes.

  I couldn’t wait to get to the cabin for our annual family reunion. We usually drove together in the SUV, but it was in the shop for a week. Dad had decided to take his car with Mom, having Molly follow behind. Bad choice. With how cranky everyone was, even if I—the better driver—had been driving, things wouldn’t have gone any better.

  Crunch.

  Cale started eating his Cheetos again, and Molly’s knuckles on the wheel turned white.

  “I swear, I’m going to kill him,” she said.

  “No, you’re not.” I slumped in my seat and looked out the window, watching the trees speed past. There was only one thing that would work as a distraction. I braced myself because this topic was so shockingly boring that I’d probably nod off and fall out of my seat. I sighed and turned to Molly. “Tell me more about this guy who’s coming.”

  Molly perked up immediately. “Oh, he’s so hot! And Samara, he’s not like any of the other guys I’ve dated. I mean, he’s really hot and smart. He’s always top of the class, he’s athletic, he’s . . .”

  I tuned her out, not caring about the “mystery man” she started dating a week ago. Molly went through guys like a bee goes through flowers. The only reason I didn’t already know this boyfriend was because she’d just moved out to go to college and had met him there.

  “And I can’t believe I’m actually dating someone younger than me, you know? I mean, he’s in high school!”

  “Yeah, it’s not a crime,” I said. “You’re still seventeen.”

  “But in college already. It’s just weird!”

  “Attraction doesn’t always pay attention to age.”

  She looked at me with a huge grin on her face. “And man, is he hot! You know, the other day . . .”

  I tuned her out again.

  ***

  Ten years later, we arrived at the cabin. Okay, so not that long, but it might as well have been. Hours and hours of driving with my insane sister and crazy brothers was enough to make my blond hair turn gray.

  We dragged ourselves out of the car. Mom came to help unbuckle Cale—who insisted he didn’t need help—and Dad pulled the trunk open.

  “How was the ride?” Mom asked. “We sure passed some beautiful country, didn’t we?”

  “I didn’t notice,” I grumbled. “You get the boys on the way home.”

  She smiled. Was that an evil glint in her eye? “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse.”

  I picked up my guitar and bag and hauled them up to the porch. The boys, now released from their imprisonment, started running around, wreaking havoc. I rushed through the front door, shutting it firmly behind me.

  Molly barged in. “Why’d you shut the door on me?” She flipped her long brown hair. “I get the big room.”

  “You always do,” I said, not wanting an argument. The girl cousins slept in the rooms upstairs, the adults in the master bedrooms on the main floor, the boys in the basement. I heaved my stuff up the stairs and down the hall to my usual place. After flinging off my shoes, I sprawled across the bed. The silence surrounding me was heavenly. I could barely hear Cale and Grayden running around like madmen outside.

  Every June, our entire family—my dad’s side—gets together for a week-long reunion, which involves swimming, hiking, browsing local shops, and roasting marshmallows and other yummy stuff. It qualifies as the best vacation ever, and I’d been looking forward to it for a very long time.

  Molly walked in, brushing her hair. “He’s gonna be here in a couple of hours. Oh, Sam, I can’t wait for you to meet him!�
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  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m sure I’ll like him.”

  “But not too much, okay? He’s mine.”

  “How long do you plan to date this one?”

  “A while.” She grinned wickedly and plopped down on the bed next to me. “We’re going swimming tomorrow after the hike. I can’t wait for him to see me in my new bikini. He’s going to drool!”

  This time, I did roll my eyes.

  Just then, I realized I couldn’t hear the boys outside anymore. Where were they? My question was answered quickly—they dashed into my room, blabbering about the public swimming pool and squirrels and deer poop. I rolled over on the bed, putting my pillow over my face.

  Dad laughed from the hallway. “Okay, everyone, give Samara a break. Out, now.”

  I put the pillow aside.

  “You too, Molly,” Dad said. “And go see if your mother needs help.”

  Molly followed the boys out, and Dad turned to me. “Thanks for taking care of them on the ride. Your mother really needed that break.”

  “Yeah, no problem,” I said. “Though, I’m serious—they’re going home in your car.”

  He laughed, pulling out his wallet. “We’ll see. Anyway, it’s your turn for some time away.” He held out a couple bills. “Take this and go find me a piano book at the music store. Pick something good. Oh, and you might want to consider finding a vocal/guitar piece for yourself. For the talent show, you know.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Dad.” He knew me best.

  Honestly, I have the most awesome family ever. Even my younger brothers are usually cool, but today was one of those rare days when they drove me completely nuts.

  Dad gave me the keys to his car and left the room, closing the door behind him. I jumped off the bed and grabbed my suitcase. If I was going into town, I wanted to look cute. Pulling out my makeup and a new bright pink top, I squealed in excitement. This would be great! There was almost always someone attractive hanging around the store, which specialized in unique and original music.

  After touching up my makeup and changing clothes, I grabbed my purse, making sure my book was in it in case I got a flat tire or had to wait in line, and dashed downstairs.

  The drive into town was nice, and I was better able to appreciate the green forests this time. Main Street was quiet and the parking lot at the music store empty. The bells on the door tinkled as I entered. I took a deep breath. Ah! The smell of old paper!

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you here,” Mark, the owner of the store, said from behind the counter. “How’s your father? Is he looking forward to his concert next month?”

  “Definitely. He’s always talking about his performances here.”

  Dad had put on several live concerts in the store, both with local musicians and on his own. He was hilarious at the piano, so no one seemed to mind when there weren’t guitarists or vocalists with him. Sometimes he was even better alone. Once a year, he made a special trip just to put on a free concert for the people who lived in the area. It was his favorite performance of the year.

  “Wonderful. Though it may be ‘ordinary,’ as your dad likes to say, our piano will be in perfect condition.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Dad’s beloved Steinway was his pride and joy. In his eyes, no matter how hard Mark tried, nothing could ever obtain the level of perfection Dad’s piano set.

  “Oh,” Mark continued, “and maybe we’ll get the opportunity to hear you as well? With such talented parents, I’m sure you’re a musical genius just waiting to be discovered.” A glint of light entered Mark’s eyes and I could imagine him stooping slightly, an evil grin on his face, rubbing his hands as if he were about to receive a large amount of money.

  I felt a blush cross my cheeks. “Uh . . . someday, I’m sure.” I’d always wanted to be on stage, but I didn’t have the courage to play alone and hadn’t found anyone with a style similar enough to mine yet.

  I crossed to the piano section and browsed for a while before picking a Jon Schmidt book. Dad hadn’t played something by him for a long time, and I was positive the audience would love his take on All of Me. I sifted through more music, finally making my way to the guitar area.

  The bells on the front door jangled, indicating someone had entered, but I was too absorbed to look up. I’d always loved music from the ’80s and was going back and forth between Journey and Phil Collins. Why did this decision have to be so hard? And why didn’t I bring enough money to buy both books?

  I felt his presence before he said anything. It was like a magnetic current, a pull to the side. I held my ground, keeping my eyes on the books.

  “That’s a hard choice.” His voice had a gorgeous timbre. “Which are you leaning toward?”

  I glanced up and nearly dropped everything, including my jaw.

  The most beautiful set of gray-blue eyes gazed at me from a tan, somewhat freckled face. Totally adorable. A dimpled smile flashed. Even more adorable. But wait—I’d seen that smile before. Where?

  “Sorry—did I scare you? I wasn’t trying to.” He looked at the books in my hands. “Seriously, these are great choices. You must like the ’80s.”

  “Just the music,” I said a little too quickly. “I mean, I’m not a fan of the hair. Or the leg warmers. Or the cheesy acting in a lot of the movies.” I kept glancing back to him. Stop it, eyes! Control yourselves! Sheesh.

  He laughed. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  I nodded. “I need a song for a talent show this weekend. Uh . . . do you have any suggestions?” I felt an urge to keep him talking.

  “Well, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He started browsing next to me. “Michael Jackson?”

  “Nah.”

  “Madonna?”

  I giggled—yes, I actually did. I still can’t believe it. “No, thanks.”

  We didn’t say anything again for a moment, and I vowed to keep my eyes on the books in front of me. I wasn’t successful. I couldn’t help peeking at him—he was so dang cute. His sandy blond hair was perfectly messy and just the right length, only three inches long. He had broad shoulders and nice—I mean really nice—biceps. The right amount of muscle. My face flushed and I turned to look at the music behind us.

  He asked me about several more popular bands, and I said no to all of them.

  “Well, what are you looking for?”

  I groaned. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

  And he did—before I’d even said anything. Rude! I almost whacked him, but he put his hands up in self-defense, a huge smile on his face. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just getting a kick at how embarrassed you are.”

  Was he flirting with me? Did he think I was cute? Oh, I hoped so! “Okay, I want something tender and familiar. Something heartfelt. And it has to be from the ’80s.”

  “Tender, familiar, and heartfelt. Girls are all the same.”

  I glared at him, and he chuckled. “Kidding.” He looked back at the music. “Journey may be your only bet.”

  I couldn’t believe it. This totally amazing, cute, funny guy had walked in off the street, approached me—making the first move—and he was still talking to me. How’d I get so lucky today? Please, oh, please ask me out!

  “Yeah, I know, but everyone else is probably doing one of their songs.” I picked up two pieces I was familiar with. “How about Foreigner? Or the Bangles?”

  “Both excellent groups. It’s up to you, of course. Here are a couple more to choose from.” He handed me the sheet music for songs by Starship and Wilson Phillips.

  “Oh, I love them! These are perfect!” I looked at the four options in front of me, trying to decide. Actually, I was mostly wondering if there was any chance he’d ask for my number. “I don’t know which one to get.”

  “Why not all four?”

  I glanced at him. “I didn’t bring enough money.”

  “Are you sure?” He pointed at a sign. “They’re on sale.”

/>   My eyes must’ve lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yay!” I held the music to my chest, along with all the books I’d collected as we’d walked around the store, then turned to him. Maybe I should say something . . .

  “How long have you been tinkering around on the guitar?” he asked.

  “For as long as I can—tinkering? Tinkering?”

  His eyes glinted mischievously, showing he was teasing. Thank goodness. He’d been about to get a fat lip from my right hook.

  “I’m completely serious about playing. My parents bought me a little guitar when I was four, and I’ve played it ever since. I sing too. I’ve taken years of lessons for both.”

  “What are your plans with these mad skills?”

  I hesitated, looking down. “Well . . . yeah . . .”

  “Like what?”

  The intensity of his gaze brought my eyes back up to his. I think he must’ve sensed my hesitation because he didn’t press me or tease me this time. I looked around the store, making sure no one was listening before answering him in a whisper. “I want to go to Julliard. On full scholarship.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why are you whispering? It’s not like other people don’t dream of that too.”

  “Yeah, I know, but for me, it’s getting closer and closer to becoming a reality. I’ve completed all of the application requirements except for the live audition. Everything has gone really well so far. And my guitar teacher has been talking to the woman in charge of the guitar department—they’re friends—and they’re positive I’ll make it in.”

  He whistled. “Wow. That’s freakin’ amazing.”

  I nodded. “I’ve been saving up for my trip for a year now. This week’s paycheck is the last of the money I need, and when we get home, I’ll buy the plane ticket. My audition is in August, and I’ll fly out with a friend and her mom. We’re going to see as many Broadway musicals as we can, and we’ll get in a ton of shopping. I haven’t done anything fun this whole year because when I get to New York, I don’t want to have to worry about money.”