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    A Neapolitan Fairy Tale at Lake Okoboji
    A Neapolitan Fairy Tale at Lake Okoboji
    A Neapolitan Fairy Tale at Lake Okoboji
    Ebook102 pages1 hour

    A Neapolitan Fairy Tale at Lake Okoboji

    By Paula Benge

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    About this ebook

    Twenty-seven-year-old workaholic Georgiana Bennet lost her sense of taste in an accident. When she arrives at Lake Okoboji, Iowa, looking for a cure she meets Michal, the handsome co-owner of the Lucky Star Ice Cream Bar, and his three eccentric partners. The three women weave their way into Georgiana's world as she finds herself spending long days in the sun with Michal and warm evenings under the stars. But the day she sees fairy wings on her new female friends changes her forever.


    The fairies manipulate Georgiana's life, including her love life, until she makes a decision that complicates everything.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThe Wild Rose Press
    Release dateSep 14, 2020
    ISBN9781509233427

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      Book preview

      A Neapolitan Fairy Tale at Lake Okoboji - Paula Benge

      Inc.

      Georgiana lifted her sunglasses. I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to. She seems like a sweet person. Maybe you need to work on your attitude, bud.

      He rubbed his eyes. You’re right. Then he turned to face her, relaxing back on the captain’s chair, and studied her as if he were truly seeing her. I really enjoyed this morning.

      I did too. She wasn’t ready for the morning to end—wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He was different than anyone she’d ever met, and she wanted time to explore why. That’s when she knew she needed to go.

      He steadied her as she climbed onto the dock. It was tempting to invite him in for coffee. What would he say if she did? He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. The boat rocked softly, but he held her gaze, legs braced easily. His face was tan, his hair windblown over eyes the color of the lake, and she was drowning. Then his right eyebrow rose wickedly, and her heart jumped.

      Come by the shop later, he said, starting the engine. And I’ll serve you myself.

      She watched until the boat disappeared around the point, then took a shuddering breath and turned to the house. I bet he sells a lot of ice cream.

      A Neapolitan Fairy Tale at

      Lake Okoboji

      by

      Paula Benge

      One Scoop or Two

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

      A Neapolitan Fairy Tale at Lake Okoboji

      COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Paula Benge

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

      Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

      Cover Art by Abigail Owen

      The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

      PO Box 708

      Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

      Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

      Publishing History

      First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2020

      Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3342-7

      One Scoop or Two

      Published in the United States of America

      Dedication

      To the best vacation buddies:

      Dr. Jeff, Sherri, Sydni, Alex, and Bayli,

      thank you for sharing your love of Lake Okoboji,

      and for the memories that have become legend.

      Chapter One

      Georgiana Bennet knew for a fact that every successful and happy city was in need of an ice cream shop. She’d done the research and the math, and she’d done them properly, which was the only way she knew to do anything.

      Thus, her Bennet’s Creamery, in a prime location next to Amaz’n Steamboat Family Fun Park in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, was a successful cog in the community machinery. It had wide-ranging loyalties as a small business. If only it weren’t in serious danger of becoming boring.

      She was far from her beloved ice cream parlor when she parked her car and turned off the navigation system. Gone were the views of snow-capped mountains and her favorite ski run, Heavenly Daze. Instead, she gazed past the narrow condo she’d rented online to the summery blue shimmer of Lake Okoboji, Iowa. The lake looked far too serene to hold the magic that she’d attached to it when she’d been young. But it was her last hope. If the lake didn’t provide a miracle this week, her creamery was history. She couldn’t run it without a sense of taste or smell. She couldn’t run it if she couldn’t distinguish lemon from pineapple or sweet from sour. Fair or not, the lake needed to take this seriously.

      Speaking of the lake, Georgiana lifted her sunglasses to peer at the far shore, but dropped them back into place at the glare. What if she damaged her eyesight from harsh UV exposure? She only had three senses left, after all, which meant being overcautious was a luxury beyond her means.

      The alarm on her watch chimed, and Georgiana reached for the bag of candy. The idea to try flavored candy to gauge her sense of taste had struck in the early hours of her long drive. What flavor was next? Cinnamon? She scanned her chart. Cinnamon it was. With a practiced hand, she wrote the time and opened the piece of candy. She closed her eyes in concentration as she rolled it around her mouth, feeling it click against her teeth. Her reflex system worked wonderfully, praise be, by producing saliva on cue. Finally, she held the candy still with her tongue and breathed deeply through her nose, but not a nuance of scent settled there.

      Opening her eyes, she plucked the candy out and stuck out her tongue to the vanity mirror. Yes, it was the expected red. The package had boasted the hottest of hot cinnamon, guaranteed to make one’s eyes water. Everyone’s, it seemed, except hers.

      She closed the mirror and snapped the sun visor back into place. The doctors weren’t sure what would bring her senses back. By process of elimination, she now knew it wouldn’t be cinnamon. Might as well have been fluff for all the flavor it held. The familiar disappointment surged through her. Hour after hour, day after day, month after month it had pitted itself against her optimistic nature. It was winning. She groaned and slowly leaned forward, thumping her forehead against the steering wheel with quiet, efficient, and satisfying thuds.

      Someone knocked on her window, and she nearly dropped the wet candy. Georgiana Bennet? a man asked through the glass.

      He appeared to be in his late twenties. His University of Okoboji t-shirt looked comfortably faded, but his face was creased with concern. Must be her landlord. She hadn’t expected him to be her age. The pain on her forehead was merely an echo of the loss that tormented her, but she pasted on a smile and opened her door.

      Are you Meehow? She stood, holding out her right hand while dropping the sticky candy behind her with the other. I’m Georgiana, your renter for the week.

      His gaze shifted from her forehead to her eyes. It’s Michal. He took her hand and held it. You must’ve talked to my grandmother. She uses the old-world pronunciation.

      Georgiana was taken by surprise at the warmth that ran from his hand up her arm. She wondered briefly, as she gazed up at him, which old world he referred to, but decided it must be an Eastern European area. He thoroughly looked the part of a romantic artist.

      How was your drive from Colorado? he asked.

      His eyes were blue, and his hand was big around hers. The heat rolled over her clavicle and down across her chest to her belly. She tugged free and fought the urge to cross her arms.

      Long. I-80 got me halfway through Nebraska, then all those stairstep turns, finally headed north at Sioux City. With a quick breath, she bent to retrieve her rental agreement from the passenger seat. Here you are. I’m sure everything’s in order.

      A smile tipped the corners

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