Sweet Love Read online

  Sweet Love

  Mia Kayla

  MAM Books LLC

  Copyright © 2020 by Mia Kayla

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.authormiakayla.com

  Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Developmental Editor: Melissa Shank, [email protected]

  Proofreader: Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services, www.jdproofs.wixsite.com/jddeaton

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  ISBN-13: 978-1-953370-99-0

  Created with Vellum

  To my BFFs (Book Friends Forever),

  Thank you for bringing this book and characters to life. There are so many books to read out there, but yet you read mine.

  And for that I will be forever grateful.

  xoxo

  Mia

  This book was born in my reader group - Mia Kayla Book Friends Forever

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Stay In Touch

  Also by MIA KAYLA

  Candy Factory Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Charlie

  My father had always said, “Love what you do and love the job you choose.”

  I wished I had taken him up on his advice because as a computer tech, my job was okay at best, but today, my view was quite interesting.

  Milk chocolate bars. Chocolate-covered almonds. Hazelnut bars. Sour candies. Gummy candies.

  This was every little kid’s dream—a real-life candy wall. And it was right in front of me.

  I would have been in heaven if I actually liked chocolate, if it didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth, if it didn’t remind me of things I’d rather forget.

  When I had walked in through the pink glass revolving doors on my first day of the job at Colby Chocolates and Candies corporate office, I had known I was in for a treat. Literally.

  Unlimited sweets was one of the perks for working for one of the biggest manufacturers of candy and chocolate in the nation.

  I wrung my hands together, waiting for the cute, short girl who was giving me a company tour to come back from the restroom, when my eyes widened at the guy right next to me.

  Sweet, sinful, dark chocolate male brown eyes stared down at me.

  “You look like a candy cane,” I said. The moment the words left my mouth, I smiled, all teeth, because … awkward. Immediately, heat rushed to my cheeks because what kind of introduction was that?

  “It’s a pretty impressive outfit. I wish I could say I’d designed it myself.” His voice oozed with masculine sophistication, opposite to the white pants and his candy cane–striped red and white shirt and suit jacket.

  It was as though I were on a candy commercial—or a bad porno. Right next to me, in front of this candy wall, stood the finest guy I’d ever laid my eyes on—tall, insanely handsome.

  Whoa, de whoa.

  I blinked and then double-blinked. Then, I shut my mouth because it’d slipped open.

  Six foot something. Smoldering chocolate-brown eyes. Chiseled chin. Dark brown hair. Face of a god. Smile of an angel.

  I looked around me as though a cameraman were going to walk in, following this guy, taping a commercial in front of the candy wall.

  I gave him a once-over again because I couldn’t for the life of me stop staring.

  “It’s not Halloween. Why are you dressed like that?” I bit my tongue before some other stupid thing flew out of my mouth.

  “How do you know I don’t dress like this on a regular basis?” He quirked an eyebrow, his gaze traveling languidly up my body. “Pretty impressive …”

  I swallowed.

  His gaze faced forward. “Pretty impressive wall, right? It’s good candy. Especially the signature Colby’s Chocolate Bar.”

  When he smiled, my stomach flipped and flopped and flopped and flipped again.

  “That one’s the worst. Their candy is eh at best.”

  The smile slipped from Mr. Candy Company’s beautiful face.

  He reached over me and plucked a Colby bar from the wall. This one had nuts. “You know, if anyone caught you saying that”—he wrinkled his nose—“they’d throw you in one of those machines that melted the chocolate.”

  I shrugged. “The truth hurts. And plus …” I plucked it from his hand—maybe because I wanted to touch him, maybe because I was flirting. Yes, very much flirting at this point. “Why is the biggest thing on the packaging the company’s name?” I was just rambling, trying to spark conversation. “Like, oh, it’s not enough that Colby’s is written on the factory walls and the company cars and vans. It must be written on the candy bar too, in big, fat letters. It just has to. Why couldn’t they have called this bar the Nutter Bar or something more interesting? I don’t see Hall’s Chocolates branded this way. It’s mostly to the actual feel of the chocolate. Or if you are branding to Colby’s, I feel like it should be branded to the essence of family, but you can do it without using the family name in giant letters.”

  Colby’s was the biggest candy and chocolate manufacturer in the nation, and Hall’s was its direct competitor.

  Candyman paused, his smile slipping. In the next second, he composed himself and then tapped at my temple, touching me.

  Maybe he is flirting back? Or maybe it is wishful thinking on my part.

  “You’re right. The other candy companies don’t do that. They have weird candy names, and their family logo is branded smaller on their bars.”

  “And this packaging …” I scrunched my nose. “I think it’s the same original packaging. They need to brand to future generations too, cater to families. I swear that’s why only old people eat Colby’s.”

  He looked at me as though I’d offended him in some way.

  I bit my lip from talking any further.

  After a beat, our gazes went back to the candy wall.

  “Sweet, tart, or chocolate?” he asked.

  Candyman was staring at me as though the answer to this question would unlock some deep, dark secret. I thought about it. I preferred gum. Gum kept me from saying too much or falling asleep on a job, and it caused me to stop binge-eating when I was just plain bored and not even hungry.

  “Neither. I’m not really into any of this.”

  He tilted his head and assessed me. “That’s crazy. Why would you work for a candy company if you weren’t into candy?
And I have never met a woman who doesn’t like chocolate. You don’t even like chocolate?”

  “Nope. Not even the ones with caramel and nougat inside.”

  Plus, chocolate didn’t bring back the best type of memories.

  He reached on the shelf and grabbed another candy bar named Goodlicious. When he tore it open, I peered around me. It felt like I was opening a candy bar without even paying for it yet. He broke the piece in half and extended it my way, and nausea slapped me in the face.

  The smell of cleaning solution mixed with chocolate hit me in the nose, causing me to relive a memory.

  I pushed those thoughts aside and forced myself to straighten.

  He didn’t have to literally shove their product down my throat.

  “No, it’s okay. You have it. And to answer your question, why can’t I just be here for a paycheck?”

  He reeled back, actually shocked.

  Because that was what it came down to. This job was just a means to an end. Money to pay for the space for my exhibit.

  “Tell me you love your job as the spokesperson for Colby Chocolates.” I lifted my chin and quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Like, really love it and that’s why you do it and you wouldn’t mind not getting paid.”

  He could very well love being the pretty-boy face of Colby’s.

  “How do you know I’m the spokesperson for Colby’s?” He popped the chocolate bar in his mouth and began to chew, and momentarily, I was stunned and fascinated at how he chewed, staring at his lips.

  I blinked back into focus. “Because you’d sell more in that candy outfit than dressed up in your regular uniform.” And now, I was definitely flirting and had no filter. What was wrong with me?

  Someone should’ve told him he could be modeling instead of working here. His mother and father had definitely failed him.

  He sported this evident smirk, and the longer our eyes locked, the hotter my cheeks flamed. But for the life of me, I couldn’t look away.

  “Connor … Connor.” Casey, the woman giving me the company tour, ran toward us at a full-on sprint, almost knocking into the wall.

  As awkward went, Casey—the mousy girl with the thick-rimmed glasses—embodied all of that.

  I was thankful for her interruption.

  “So, I guess you’ve met Charlotte.” Casey bent over, placed her hands on her knees, and breathed deeply as though trying to catch her breath.

  “No, not formally. But I guess I have now. Nice to meet you, Charlotte.”

  “Charlie.” I placed my hand in his extended one.

  His handshake was firm, strong, masculine. Mine was clammy and sweaty as though I’d washed my hands and forgot to dry.

  “I have to get going, but I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He held my hand and my stare for far too long until I exhaled and finally extracted my fingers from his.

  “See you around.”

  Then, he turned and walked farther down the aisle. My eyes were glued to his figure until he turned a corner and was gone.

  “I’ve never seen a man as fine as that one,” I huffed out. Because if you couldn’t be honest with another woman about admiring the male species, who else could you be honest with?

  “Who? Connor? Yeah, ew.” Casey’s face pinched. “Negative. Never. Ever. Not even if he were the last dick on earth. We grew up together. He’s like my brother.”

  I laughed. Okay, duly noted. Casey wasn’t attracted to the Connor kind.

  My head flipped back toward her direction. “What was the matter? You ran out here like the company was on fire and this was the safe zone.”

  Thank goodness she hadn’t face-planted into the candy wall.

  “I was afraid I’d left you for too long. Sorry, when nature calls, it calls.” She smirked.

  I grabbed another Goodlicious bar and handed it to her. Someone should enjoy some chocolate if it wasn’t going to be me. “Thanks for the tour. Can you lead me back to my desk now?”

  “Sure.” She placed the bar back on the wall. “I’m diabetic.”

  “You are?” My stomach sank. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s no big deal. I was diagnosed years ago, but I have it maintained. Anyway, come follow me.” Her flats with cute little bows tiptapped against the pink tiles. Every other tile had Colby’s logo etched on it.

  “Casey, which department do you work in again?”

  “I’m a manager in quality and assurance. In charge of the people who taste-test the candies for consistency and flavor.”

  I nearly tripped mid-step. “And you’re diabetic. Can you taste-test the candies?”

  “A little. But not too much.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. I love my job. I love this place, and it helps with my figure.” She slapped her nonexistent hip and gave me a cheeky thumbs-up.

  I wondered how that even worked. This woman was employed in the quality and assurance lab. She managed the Q and A specialists, whose main job was to chew candy and determine the peak of the taste and consistency.

  Man, if I thought my life was unfair, so was hers.

  Chapter 2

  Connor

  I walked into the office and shut the door behind me.

  Kyle, my brother, was seated at my desk as though he worked here, throwing a ball in the air and catching it. His feet were plopped up, as though it were his desk.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted the Chicago skyline behind him, which had been my temporary view over the last few weeks. All big cities seemed the same—tall buildings, condo high-rises, city lights. Looking over at the skyscrapers reminded me of my permanent office in New York.

  “What did people think of your outfit?” Kyle smirked.

  “They actually loved it,” I deadpanned.

  “Nice,” he drawled out.

  “Especially the stripes on my shirt. I think we should add a bonnet to this ensemble.”

  He threw me the ball, and I caught it mid-flight and placed it on the desk.

  “This is the last time I bet you on anything. Why can’t we be like normal people and bet money?” I unbuttoned my shirt, slipped off my clothes and slid on my regular button-down, navy blue slacks, and striped tie.

  “It’s more fun this way. Maybe you should learn never to bet against your little brother.”

  Once changed, I kicked Kyle off my chair and motioned to the seat in front of me. Like a good boy, he moved but not before grabbing the ball from my desk and tossing it up in the air again.

  My chair swiveled back and forth, and I took in the city, which I used to live in, where I had grown up in. I wouldn’t call this home because home was where the heart was, and there was no heart in Chicago.

  “Three more months until this is over.” My voice was distant, and so were my thoughts.

  When I’d left this place and gone to college, I’d told myself I’d never be back again. The only things that had brought me home were Nana and to see Kyle. Not even my parents begging had brought me back here. I was back because Nana had asked me to help my parents’ dying company survive.

  “Well, hell, it’s not gonna be me, big bro. I’m not going to be the one to lead this company.”

  “Then, why are you here?” I wrinkled my brow, watching the people below us, like little ants on an ant farm, doing their daily jobs.

  The ball hit me directly on the side of my head, and it dropped to the floor, which forced me to turn around and look at him.

  “Don’t be a jerk. You’re not here long, so don’t blame me for wanting to spend time with you,” he said, shooting me a look.

  “It’s not what I meant. I mean, why are you here, at the company, when you don’t work here?”

  “I’m always here. Even when you’re not. Because our parents are always here. And Nana is here.” He stood and walked to my side of the desk, leaning a hip against it. “And most of all, I want to see you save our parents’ company.”

  I noticed how he hadn’t said our company because neit
her of us considered this our company even though our parents wanted to make it our legacy.

  Everyone wanted to see me save this company. The profit margins had been dwindling for the last year. My parents had had consultant after consultant in to try to turn things around, but each and every one had failed. They’d all turned to me as their last hope. I had come here with no ideas, only a determination to analyze the issue and to save the company. But the aha moment had hit me when I talked to Charlie.

  I rubbed at my day-old stubble, noting that I would have to shave tomorrow. “I’ve figured it out.” It was as though a light had switched on in my brain just minutes before, showing me how I was going to save Colby’s. “We have to totally rebrand. We can’t just turn things around with new products. We need a total rehab from top to bottom.”

  The new girl had hit the nail directly on the head with her comments.

  Kyle knocked my desk twice, and then he pointed at me. “And this is what you’re good at. You’re good at taking a company that’s failing and making it rain money again.”

  Wasn’t it the truth though? I’d moved from New York City back to Chicago, leaving a job that I loved, a place where I was appreciated, and a place that paid well.

  I was the executive director of the Commercial Loan Workout Division at Financial State Bank in Manhattan. For companies not making a profit and were about to be kicked out of the bank, I would help them by either cutting expenses or getting rid of their line that was no longer profitable. That meant firing employees if I needed to. I knew how to get the company from the red and back into the black. That was what I did, and I excelled at my job.