Love on the Red Rocks Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Throw a handful of women together at a lesbian resort and things can get complicated.

  Malley plans to profess her secret love for Lizzie, her best friend. Lizzie is trying to get away from her ex, who incidentally tracks her down. Jessie, Malley’s dangerously sexy next-door neighbor, shows up unexpectedly. Circumstances throw Malley and Jessie together, disrupting Malley’s plans to be with Lizzie. Toss in forbidden desires, an unexpected love, and Malley soon finds herself in the middle of a love triangle.

  Amidst the spiritual red rocks of Sedona, Malley embarks upon an unexpected journey, causing her to question her desires and face her greatest fears. Will Malley choose to play it safe in life and love or will she shatter her comfort zone and take a chance on true happiness?

  Love on the Red Rocks

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Love on the Red Rocks

  © 2016 By Lisa Moreau. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-661-6

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: February 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  Acknowledgments

  What you hold in your hands is a dream realized. I’d always wanted to write a novel, but stuck to shorter pieces. Writing a book seemed like such an overwhelming task, so I kept putting it off. When my father passed away unexpectedly June 2013, it was a not so gentle reminder of how short life can be. One month after his death, I began writing this book. I’m not sure how he’d feel about having a lesbian novel dedicated to him. Regardless, he was not only the catalyst, but also the inspiration for my first novel.

  It’s been a whirlwind, eye-opening, exciting year since signing a contract with Bold Strokes Books. I’ll never read another novel the same way again. So much work, from so many individuals, goes into a published piece. I owe a tremendous thanks to Radclyffe, Sandy Lowe, and everyone at Bold Strokes Books. Thank you for your guidance, professionalism, and taking a chance on me. Bold Strokes Books was my number one choice in the hopes of getting published. I’ve been a fan for many years since the writers and editors are top-notch.

  Speaking of editors, they are the unsung heroes, and I had the best. Shelley Thrasher, you improved my manuscript greatly. Thank you so much for your suggestions, encouragement, and keen eye. I look forward to working with you again.

  Thanks to my family and friends for their ongoing support. A special thanks to my sister, Carla Cotton; and niece, Sasha Kelton. I always think of us as the Three Musketeers. You are my best friends and greatest supporters. Even though we’re separated by many miles, I feel your presence in my life every day. I love you guys.

  And for anyone who has a dream: don’t delay, don’t fear, don’t make excuses. Go for it with all your heart and soul. Dreams do come true.

  Dedication

  For my Dad

  See you later, alligator.

  Prologue

  The Kachina Woman

  Fifteen Years Ago

  I’m not sure what I expected to find. Maybe an hourglass-shaped, voluptuous figure with lots of cleavage. Something with peaks and valleys in all the right places. We were, after all, looking for a woman. And considering I was fifteen years old with raging hormones, it wasn’t crazy to want to find a buxom beauty, even if she was a rock formation.

  Sweat stung the corners of my eyes and rolled down my back. My dad and I had been hiking in Sedona, desperately looking for a woman. But not just any woman. The guy at the Red Rock Visitor Center called her the Kachina Woman. She sat on top of a ridge, towering over Boynton Canyon. How could we possibly pass up an opportunity to see that?

  The hike started out well enough. We were excited, anticipating a new adventure. But it didn’t take long for us to tire in the ninety-degree heat, trudging uphill through rough terrain. My legs burned, my shirt became drenched in sweat, and my heart pounded. If it wasn’t for the woman, I think we would have turned back. We stopped often to stand in the shade and chug down water.

  I liked the pause between activities with my dad best. That was when we had some of our best chats. I could tell him anything. In fact, I came out to him during the Super Bowl half-time show. He didn’t even bat an eye. He hugged me and said he’d always love me no matter what. He was cool that way.

  “She’s got to be around here somewhere,” Dad said. We’d been walking for miles, climbing over rocks, dodging lizards, and with no woman in sight.

  “Howdy,” Dad said to a hiker passing us on the trail. “Does this lead to the Kachina Woman?”

  “Yes. It’s just around the bend and over that hill. You can’t miss it.”

  “Do you hear that?” I asked no one in particular, picking up a faint strain of music in the distance. “It sounds like a flute.”

  “Oh, you’ll hear and see lots of strange things in Sedona,” the hiker said.

  “You mean like blue lizards, ‘cause I almost stepped on one back there.”

  “That and more.” His blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight.

  My dad thanked the hiker as we continued on our trek. The longer we walked, the louder the music sounded, like the melody was being carried along the warm breeze, swirling around our bodies.

  The hiker was right. After we turned a curve and fought our way up to the summit, the woman practically smacked us in the face. She was tall, sturdy, with an air of confidence. Honestly, at first I didn’t see a woman. All I saw was a big glob of red rock. But then I remembered what the man in the visitors’ center said, so I relaxed my gaze and sq
uinted my eyes. And there she was. Cleavage and all.

  My hand brushed the ankles of the Kachina Woman as we walked around the base, looking for the cause of the stirring music. As we rounded the corner I spotted an Indian with a flute sitting cross-legged under a twisted juniper tree. He looked about a hundred and five, with deep crevices in his face and hands. When I gazed in his eyes a jolt of electricity coursed through me. I know this sounds weird, but they were an exact replica of my grandmother’s eyes. The color of brown sugar, they brimmed with joy and anticipation. Even on her deathbed, as Grandma was taking her last breath, her eyes never dimmed.

  Perhaps feeling our presence, the Indian stopped playing and rested the flute in his lap. He allowed a few moments to pass before he spoke, staring straight ahead.

  “You know this place?” he asked.

  “This is our first time here,” Dad said. “It’s beautiful.”

  The Indian motioned for us to sit beside him. My dad and I sat cross-legged under the tree, one of us on each side of the Indian.

  “This sacred land is home to Kachina Woman,” he said. “She guards and watches over all who enter the canyon.”

  Chills cascaded throughout my body when the Indian stared directly at me with Grandma’s eyes. In one graceful move, he held out his fist as though he was handing me something. Not knowing the protocol in this particular situation, I sat there like a lump.

  “Take,” he said. Peering past the Indian, my dad nodded his approval. The man placed a red sandstone rock in the palm of my hand. A heart-shaped rock. Within seconds it warmed my palm.

  “Fear is of the mind,” he said. “Love is of the heart. Kachina Woman say always listen to the heart.” The Indian tapped my chest with his fingertips three times as his eyes twinkled with what resembled delight.

  I looked past the Indian to the Kachina Woman. The rock was the exact color as she was, a fiery red that came alive in my open palm. Shards of limestone imbedded in the rock sparkled like diamonds in the rays of the sun. I ran my thumb over the smooth surface, tracing the perfect outline of a heart. Then I slipped the rock into my pocket to keep as a souvenir. How many people have heart rocks handed to them by an ancient Indian on top of a sacred site? It was too cool not to keep.

  The Indian raised his flute and began playing as my dad and I closed our eyes. The haunting melody reached deep inside me, swirling up all sorts of emotions in the pit of my stomach. It made me want to laugh and cry all at the same time. When the music stopped, my dad and I opened our eyes and the Indian was gone. We glanced around the juniper tree, even got up and looked down the trail and around the Kachina Woman, but he was nowhere in sight.

  My dad scratched his head and looked as confused as I did. The Indian couldn’t possibly have gotten up that fast and down the trail without us hearing or seeing him. For a minute, I wondered if we hadn’t imagined the whole thing. I slipped my hand into my pocket, feeling the warmth of the rock against my fingertips. I wasn’t so sure about the Indian, but the heart rock was definitely real.

  Chapter One

  A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Sedona

  Present Day

  One minute I was in heaven and the next screaming my lungs out. Lizzie and I were cruising down Arizona Highway 179 on our way to the Rainbow Lodge in Sedona. Just the two of us, for three solid weeks, all alone. Well, mostly alone. Eighteen other lesbians would be there, but who counts them? It’s not like I was planning to make friends. I was on a mission.

  So we were traveling down the highway when all of a sudden tires were screeching, the nauseating scent of burnt rubber filled the air, and my heart thumped so loudly that the pulse in my ears practically made me deaf to my own screams. Then I saw it. Panic in the eyes of a deer. It was one of those fight-or-flight moments, except I couldn’t run or punch the deer ‘cause I was stuck in the passenger seat of a Lexus. So I did the irrational thing, of course, and grabbed the wheel, causing the car to skid across the deserted, thankfully, two-lane highway and right into a ditch.

  After all that drama, coming to a jolting halt made everything seem eerily still. Shaking my head a few times like the coyote does in that cartoon after falling off a cliff, I saw Lizzie rubbing her forehead. I hate to admit it, but I felt a pang of joy. Maybe I’d have an excuse to hold her hand, caress her face, and even kiss the boo-boo.

  Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t a pervert who took advantage of injured women. I was in love with Lizzie. It didn’t matter that we’d never dated, or kissed, or even touched for that matter. I didn’t have to do any of that to know she was everything I ever wished upon a star for in a soul mate. Sounds perfect, huh? Well, it was, except for one small problem: her girlfriend, Heather. Actually, it was her ex-girlfriend. For the moment anyway.

  “Malley, why did you grab the wheel?”

  Because I’m a control freak? I thought it better to leave that conversation for my therapist, so I chose a more mature response.

  “I’m sorry. I panicked. Oh my gosh, Lizzie, are you okay?” With trembling hands I carefully pushed her bangs aside. God, her hair was soft.

  “You have a bump. Did you hit your head on the steering wheel?” I regretted bringing up the wheel the moment it was out of my mouth. We probably wouldn’t have been sitting in a ditch in the middle of nowhere except for my quick thinking.

  At that point I was about as close to Lizzie as I’d ever been. Our noses almost touched, and I could feel her warm breath tickle my lips. As I gazed into her eyes, looking for signs of a concussion, of course, I thought for a moment we might actually kiss. Even the remote possibility of our lips touching made me breathless.

  “Malley, what are you doing?”

  Oh my God. I was staring at her lips while unconsciously running my fingers through her hair. I may have even rubbed her shoulders. God, I hope I didn’t try to kiss her. Maybe I was a pervert.

  “I’m checking to see if your eyes are dilated,” I said, which made no sense whatsoever since I was staring at her full, sensual lips at the time.

  “I’m okay. Just shaken up. Thank God we didn’t hit that poor deer.” She was so considerate. “But we do seem to be stuck in a ditch. A very deep ditch.” I wanted to wipe the worried expression from Lizzie’s beautiful face.

  “You sit here for a minute, and I’ll go out and survey the damage,” I said, and stepped into the ninety-eight-degree sweltering heat. Was I insane—attending a retreat in the desert in the middle of June? Jessie was probably sitting in her West Hollywood apartment with the air conditioner on full blast, snickering at the thought of me dying of heat stroke while buzzards flew overhead. But then I remembered why I was going to Sedona and smiled broadly.

  Lizzie had finally done it. She and Heather were history. Granted, they’d broken up and gotten back together a million times over the past year, but Lizzie had actually made Heather move out this time.

  So when Jessie had told me about her friend Clarissa’s three-week lesbian retreat in Sedona, it didn’t take much effort to convince Lizzie that she needed a relaxing vacation away from the drama of the breakup. Little did she know, I had an ulterior motive. Now that Lizzie was single and free, I could show her we were perfect for each other. In fact, I even had a three-week plan mapped out in Excel to convince her of just that.

  Tab one of the spreadsheet included various retreat activities perfect for us to spend time together, like leisurely walks, hiking, and biking, with romantic spots highlighted in each category. Hiking trails included location, mileage, and elevation so we didn’t do anything too strenuous and make Lizzie realize I was horribly out of shape. Tab two of the spreadsheet included romantic restaurants around Sedona, which I Googled beforehand and included Weight Watcher’s points so I’d know what to order.

  During a romantic dinner at the end of the three weeks, I planned to tell Lizzie how I felt about her. Just the thought of that confession made me queasy. It’s not easy putting yourself out there. What if she laughed or, God forbid, never wanted to see me
again?

  I popped my head back into the car. “Start ‘er up and see if you can go forward or backward.”

  Lizzie cranked her Lexus, which was a good sign, but the wheels did nothing but spin in place as she accelerated. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she opened her door to let a hot breeze in.

  “We’re not going anywhere, Malley.”

  “Don’t worry. All I have to do is call AAA.” Just as I grabbed my cell phone we heard a thunderous roar, coming from a quickly approaching motorcycle. A yellow motorcycle. A yellow motorcycle with a figure that looked curiously like Jessie. Oh my God, it was Jessie!

  “Thank goodness for dykes on bikes,” Lizzie said as she got out of the car. Jessie pulled up behind us and cut off her deafening motor.

  “What in the world is she doing here?”

  “You know her?”

  “That’s Jessie.”

  “The Jessie? To quote you, the exasperating, frustrating, irritating Jessie? The next-door-neighbor Jessie? Wow, you never told me she was a babe.” I gave Lizzie one of my raised-eyebrow looks, but she didn’t notice since she was too busy gawking at the bronze statue straddling her motorbike. All right, I admit it. Jessie was gorgeous. A super-hot, olive-skinned, green-eyed beauty with a killer body. No wonder I’d never introduced her to Lizzie. Jessie whipped off her helmet and swaggered our way, flashing that dangerously sexy grin of hers.