A Tiara Under the Tree Read online

  The ultimate prize this Christmas...

  Former beauty queen Waverly Leverve can barely show her face in public after an embarrassing meme goes viral. But now fate and a misdelivered pizza have brought her dreams back to life. Gorgeous bad boy turned business mogul Dominic Crowne wants to sponsor Waverly in a pageant scheduled for Christmas Eve. Waverly vows to keep their arrangement purely professional—but soon their arrangement quickly takes a sensual turn...

  Dominic knows that his golden touch can fix almost anything—including Waverly’s tilted tiara. Against his own will, Dominic is mesmerized with his stunning new client. He’s falling for the pageant princess and the vulnerable yet sexy woman within. But when Waverly’s ultimate goal finally comes within reach, can he help her achieve professional redemption and find his Princess Charming under the mistletoe?

  Pine needles were scattered across the top of the car. From the incident, the road rash had resulted in a half-bare tree.

  Standing, Dominic wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. His six-pack abs flexed and Waverly averted her eyes toward the tree. The timber was safe from getting run over, thanks to the abandoned road Dominic had thought to take. His eyes followed hers. “I’m getting you another tree. We’re tossing this.”

  Before he took another step toward the road, Waverly reached for Dominic’s arm. His bicep twitched beneath her palm. “I don’t need a tree.”

  Dominic paused for a moment. Their eyes locked. Suddenly the tree was no longer in question. Waverly’s heart raced. Her feelings, jumbled with the longing for what the Harveys had and wanting it with Dominic, came into mind.

  “What is it you need, Waverly?”

  “I— I—” The words were lost but the action was not. Waverly leaped forward and threw herself into Dominic’s arms. He caught her and spun her body around, placing her back against the hood.

  Dear Reader,

  Waverly Leverve has always had a passion for beauty pageants and bad boys. At one point in her life, her mother feared the latter would ruin her chances for the ultimate tiara. Eventually, Waverly’s mouth got her in trouble. Can you imagine having your ugly-cry face captured and placed on a viral meme for the world to see and use for their entertainment? Welcome to Waverly’s new world. What’s a dethroned pageant gal to do? Step back into the tiara of course.

  I had a blast imagining all the memes of Waverly’s ugly cry. A lot of my inspiration came from a particular “crying meme” of a legendary basketball player.

  Until the next pageant...happy reading!

  Carolyn Hector

  A Tiara Under the Tree

  Carolyn Hector

  Having your story read out loud as a teen by your brother in Julia Child’s voice might scare some folks from ever sharing their work. But Carolyn Hector rose above her fear. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida, where there is never a dull moment. School functions, politics, football, Southern charm and sizzling heat help fuel her knack for putting a romantic spin on everything she comes across. Find out what she’s up to on Twitter: @Carolyn32303.

  Books by Carolyn Hector

  Harlequin Kimani Romance

  The Magic of Mistletoe

  The Bachelor and the Beauty Queen

  His Southern Sweetheart

  The Beauty and the CEO

  A Tiara Under the Tree

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  I would like to dedicate and acknowledge my editor, Carly Silver, and her magical editing squad. I say this with my most sincere pageant wave and ugly cry—THANK YOU.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to acknowledge my Destin Divas for their entertainment, friendship and wisdom.

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Taming Her Billionaire by Yahrah St. John

  Chapter 1

  Death by chocolate. Waverly Leverve licked the dark, shiny ganache off her fingertip until she cleaned her finger down to her chipped French manicure. Biting her bottom lip, Waverly glanced over the double cupcakes standing proudly on the crisp white china plate and settled on a Slow Torture Southern Peach Cobbler Cupcake.

  For the last week Waverly had tried to wallow in self-pity and fatty foods. Why not? Any career as the future Miss Georgia and eventually Miss USA disappeared the moment officials forced her to give up her Miss South Georgia crown. So what if she’d colorfully told off a reporter? The journalist deserved her outburst. He’d propositioned her, assuming she was a naive pageant girl and when Waverly reacted, no one wanted to hear her side. He was the one with the recording. In hindsight, Waverly’s idea wasn’t a bright one, to tell a mic-ed reporter that the pageant establishment did not offer her enough money to sit around and smile in his face. There were a few f words dropped, along with her telling the man to self-fornicate. She should have just explained she was tired. Now here she sat in a bakery, shoveling carbs into her body.

  The pink bejeweled cell phone rattled against the silver two-top table in the corner of The Cupcakery. Waverly flipped the gadget over and blinked back at the turquoise-blue screen and fat black letters.

  You can’t drown yourself in food.

  “Want to bet?” Waverly asked the phone. Her snarky response garnered the attention of the pretty cashier at the counter.

  “Did you say something?” Tiffani asked her question from behind the register. The late-afternoon sun glinted off the arched glass protecting the cupcake display and shining against Tiffani’s face in a golden glow.

  Waverly shook her head. Tendrils falling from her messy bun tickled the back of her neck. “I’m just talking to my cell.”

  “Is that one of those phones you can see the person you’re talking to on?”

  It was, but these days Waverly turned the feature off. The only person calling her was her mother. Jillian Leverve hated the idea of her daughter having to give up her tiara for the antics provoked by an angry journalist, but in the end she hated even more the derailed plans for the highest crown the two of them had dreamed of ever since Waverly walked in her first toddler pageant.

  “Not this time, Tiffani,” Waverly said.

  “You think after you finish we can work on my pageant wave and walk?”

  Another ding sounded and Waverly’s phone lit up. Waverly expected a motivational quote from her tiara squad, her group of friends who understood the pageant life. Waverly picked a peach from her cupcake and savored the fruit while she read her text.

  Remember, someone once said good girls seldom make history... Come and be a contestant in the pageant. The ladies are just gathering tonight. You won’t miss a thing.

  Waverly responded with two letters. N-o.

  At least come to the pageant and help if you insist on not participating...

  And be around other people achieving what she’d failed? No, thanks. She scoffed to herself. Waverly turned her frown into a smile and grinned at the cashier. The last person she wanted to piss o
ff was the only person not judging her for the dethroning ceremony: the cashier who supplied her with cupcakes. “Sounds like a plan to me,” said Waverly to herself.

  Wallowing in her self-pity, Waverly cleared the text with her frosting-covered finger and took another glance at the latest meme. This one today captured Waverly’s ugly-cry face as she tearfully handed over her sparkly Miss South Georgia crown. The meme in question superimposed her body onto a basketball court. While her hands were on her crown, the star basketball player on the court blocked her crown as if it was a basketball.

  Part of the deal for becoming Miss Georgia meant a contestant needed to maintain residency in the state for six months. Six weeks into laying her foundation and all hell broke loose. Instead of going home to her mother’s in Florida, Waverly sought refuge in the town of Southwood, Georgia, a small town just above the Florida border. Well, hell, since her dreams were placed on hold, why not give a few pointers for this weekend’s big pageant?

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try out?” asked Tiffani. “Don’t you need the Miss Southwood title more than me?”

  If only... Waverly thought with a frown. Talk about a conflict of interest. The sender of the recent texts was not just Lexi Pendergrass Reyes, but the Lexi Pendergrass Reyes, hostess of the Miss Southwood Beauty Pageant. The former beauty queen had herself survived vicious pageant rumors back in her reign surrounding a particularly revealing low-cut dress she designed combined with an inappropriate relationship with a pageant dad, and ended up with the last laugh.

  In order to win a pageant, a contestant needed one of two things: a dress from Lexi’s store, Grits and Glam Gowns, or Lexi as a pageant coach. Lexi had coached Waverly when she first started out in pageants, and Waverly wore several of Lexi’s gowns. Any girl wearing a Lexi design won her title. But there would be too many things wrong with Waverly entering Lexi’s pageant. They were close personal friends, she didn’t have a dress and having been dropped by the pageant committee for Miss South Georgia, she had no sponsor—hence her factors hindering her road to the bigger title.

  Depressed even more, Waverly picked up her fork and began digging into the Slow Torture Southern dessert. Chunks of vibrant, orange-tinted peaches clung to the sweet interior of the cupcake. The sweetness of the buttery frosting melted against her tongue.

  “Hey, you know what?” Tiffani exclaimed with a curtsy. “When you’re done with the peach cupcake, I have one left for you.”

  “You do?” Waverly finished the rest of her cupcake and scooted back in her seat. Licking the frosting off her finger, she headed toward the counter. Another chocolate cupcake would be dinner. In the time it took Waverly to stand up and get her plate together, Tiffani disappeared behind the black-and-white polka-dot French doors leading into the kitchen. Waverly sauntered to the counter and lingered over the curved glass. The varieties of the cupcakes tempted her. Her mouth watered at the rows. The dark chocolate with peanut butter frosting, the vanilla drizzled with caramel, the salted caramel, the chocolate wafer cookie and even the birthday cake cupcake with pastel sprinkles all tempted her.

  Distracted by the hungry howl of her stomach, Waverly didn’t realize the bells over the bakery’s door had jingled until she saw the shadow of a figure blocking the blinding sun off the glass. He motioned for her to go ahead of him. Waverly turned to offer her thanks and to step out of the way for the customer since her order was on its way. Waverly’s mouth watered...and not from the yummy smells coming from the kitchen.

  Over six feet tall with broad shoulders and bulky muscles poured into a dark gray suit with a yellow-and-gray paisley tie stood in front of her. The man oozed sex appeal and confirmed his status with a sexy, lopsided grin.

  “Hello,” the deep, velvet voice crooned.

  “Hi,” Waverly said, or at least she believed she did. It was hard to hear over the pounding of her heart against her rib cage. In the past, Waverly’s taste in men leaned more toward the obvious bad boys—the biker-guy type riddled with tattoos, ripped jeans, snug T-shirts and a reputation a mile long. One bad-boy boyfriend in particular had once got her banned from a pageant. Now, with nothing but time on her hands, Waverly might need to give men in suits a chance, just like carbs. And carbohydrates were delicious.

  The man extended his copper-colored hand toward the counter. “By all means. You were here first.”

  “Oh, no.” Waverly stumbled over her words. “I already know what I want.”

  The man wiggled his brows. “A woman who knows what she wants? Nice.”

  “Don’t be surprised,” said Waverly. “It’s not so hard to choose.”

  “Not for me,” he responded. “I am here for one thing only.”

  A jolt of electricity raced through Waverly. She pressed her lips together and, for the first time in a week, feared her looks. This wallowing-in-misery thing had allowed her to walk around in sweats, makeup-free, hair unkempt.

  “The Slow Torture Southern Peach Cobbler Cupcake,” he announced.

  Two odd feelings washed over Waverly. Jealousy and greed. Odd to envy a cupcake, right? For some reason she wished this stranger had meant wanting her. And now to realize they both stood at the counter wanting the same cupcake...

  The French doors opened and Tiffani appeared with a bright red shade of lipstick Waverly had failed to notice earlier. If she wasn’t mistaken, Tiffani wore one of Waverly’s favorites—Go Get Him Red by Ravens Cosmetics. Waverly cocked her head to the side as she noticed the way Tiffani tried to control her rapid breathing. She recognized this tactic and had perfected it often when the backstage lineup changed at pageants. The cashier batted her lashes at the man.

  “You’re back.”

  Waverly took a step to the side. Clearly this was a tender moment between two long-lost acquaintances, right? How dare he flirt with Waverly at his lady friend’s place of business? Waverly frowned.

  “You know The Cupcakery was my first stop.”

  “And I have exactly what you want.” Tiffani awkwardly reached to the left while maintaining eye contact with the new customer.

  “Ah, my Peach Cobbler cupcake.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Waverly said, stepping forward. “That’s mine.”

  “You already had one.” Tiffani turned to Waverly with a cold smile.

  Hand pressed to her heart, Waverly gasped. “But...”

  “You’ve already eaten one,” Tiffani repeated, “and you still have another one on your plate. Don’t be greedy. This gentleman has traveled far just for this.” She held the plate in the air. Waverly watched as a crumb fell to the ground, much like her heart right now.

  “If you already ordered this,” said the man, “by all means, have it.”

  “No,” Waverly said, shaking her head. “I probably need to watch my figure.”

  The man leaned toward the right for a better look at Waverly’s backside. She’d been in beauty pageants in nothing but a bikini and heels, yet she’d never felt more like a piece of meat than right now. Waverly bit her bottom lip, not sure if she needed to be offended. Given the way she’d been eating her feelings and comforting herself over poor choices, Waverly felt heavy. With the recent weight gain, his lone raised brow of approval thrilled her.

  Tiffani cleared her throat. The man shook his head and gave his attention to the cashier. Waverly took the moment to walk back to her table. To prevent further embarrassment, Waverly kept walking, straight into the ladies’ bathroom. In private, away from prying eyes, the man’s in particular, Waverly clung to the clean white counter. The coolness of the marble chilled her palms, soothing the heat that rose inside her soul and tinted her cheeks a deep pink. In her quest for the tiara, Waverly had let dating fall by the wayside. Her last serious boyfriend was four years ago. Johnny Del Vecchio. He was her first crush, first everything. The local bad boy had swept Waverly off her feet and onto his moto
rcycle. His street racing antics helped call attention to the pageant committees and shine a spotlight on her tightrope walk on the bad side. The desire for the tiara eventually lured Waverly onto the right path.

  Once her sun-kissed tan began to return, Waverly took a deep breath and headed back out into the dining area. In any other city, she would have taken her belongings with her, but Waverly knew her cupcake and classified ads were okay. The only thing different at her table was the black-and-white polka-dot box next to her plate. She immediately recognized the to-go carton, since she’d brought several home with her over the last two weeks. Waverly glanced toward Tiffani in question, only to be given a dramatic eye roll. Safe to say Tiffani wouldn’t be needing personal guidance with the pageant this evening. Waverly fingered the bow at the top of the box to loosen the card.

  “It’s yours.”

  She couldn’t. Waverly scooped up her belongings and headed out the door. Sunlight blinded her momentarily until she shielded her eyes with her hand. She wasn’t in the bathroom so long that she’d missed the stranger. Waverly didn’t see him in the first direction she looked, but found him the other way, at the corner.

  “Hey,” Waverly called out to him. “Sir?”

  The man turned toward Waverly. He wore a pair of silver aviator glasses. “Did you get my card? My name is on the back.”

  Flipping the card over, Waverly silently read the raised letters. Dominic Crowne, Crowne’s Garage. “Well, Mr. Crowne, I can’t take this,” Waverly said, shoving the box out to him. He held his large hands toward her and shook his head. “At least we can share. Maybe we can go inside and get a knife.”

  “First of all, the name is Dominic, and second,” he said with a wink, “I don’t share. Anything.”

  His deep voice and blatant flirt sent a chill down her spine in the summer heat. “You’re pretty bold, Dominic.”

  “Because I offered you the last cupcake?” Dominic asked. “Most people say I’m chivalrous.”