He Loves Me Lots

CONTENTS He Loves Me Lots NEWSLETTER 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 Epilogue Epilogue Epilogue Top Reads NEWSLETTER A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS LAIRDS & LADIES RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS INKED BY LOVE TEXT ME YOU LOVE ME Collaborations About the Author HE LOVES ME LOTS AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE _______________________ A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 316 FLORA FERRARI Copyright © 2022 by Flora Ferrari All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from 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 are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers. HE LOVES ME LOTS He stops by for flowers on the regular. A gift for his wife or girlfriend? Turns out he’s on the hunt for a certain type of flower. My flower. It’s my dream come true—a little flower shop and plant nursery all of my own. I’ve got the perfect name, Jasmine, regular customers, but there’s a new customer in particular. Not only is he insanely good-looking, and older, he causes my heart to flutter and my blood to warm. Then I find out he’s single, one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. So who is he buying all those flowers for? It just so happens he’s on the look out for the perfect flower. And that flower is me. But will he only pluck my petals and discard me or help me bloom? * He Loves Me Lots is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger. NEWSLETTER Get a free, new, original story NOW by joining my mailing list and staying subscribed. CLICK HERE >> Get a FREE book now CHAPTER ONE Jasmine I don’t know, but I don’t think I’m the only florist who does this… or the only girl. He loves me… He loves me not. He loves me… He loves me… I’m plucking the wilting or wayward petals from the dozens of bunches of flowers and plants I have for sale in the store. My store. It still blows my mind it was just a pipe dream last year. He loves me… He loves me? Not. “So, which is it today, Jaz?” Iris asks as she comes into the store with the steaming morning coffee she always brings me. She is trembling with age, and I know a touch of rheumatism gives her problems in cold weather like this. “Not,” I announce firmly, giving a little shrug after making it seem like I have to think about it. My answer drew a click from Iris’ tongue as she rolled her eyes to the heavens. She gives me such a strange look, almost as if she’s genuinely disappointed, that I have to giggle. “Thanks,” I squeak, lifting the takeout cup from her hands to mine, blowing on the piping hot brew. “That man…,” Iris sighs with feigned bitterness. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” she says to herself, still shaking her head. As if there is such a thing as a real man… as if anyone ever would fall head over heels in love with a girl like me. I don’t have three heads or anything, but I’m not built like the regular, prettier girls—the girls who go to the gym every day. And these days, I’m so busy with work that it would have to be one special guy to grab my attention. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. “Well, it’s already past nine,” I echo back to her, keeping the charade going. “Why, he could walk through that door at any moment,” I exclaim, giving a look of mock expectation. I flutter my lids and press a hand over my heart as I look longingly at the empty doorway. The dull gray of the early winter’s day outside only makes it look more unlikely. I could use the scenery from an artsy, but depressing, black-and-white photograph to sum up my life in one image. I’m grateful when Iris creases a smile only people who’ve lived through so much can give. “He will, honey. He will,” she promises me, shifting her gaze to the bunches of yesterday’s flowers I have bundled up on the counter. “For me?” she asks, her face lighting up as if I’m trying to sweep her off her feet. It’s nothing like that. “They sure are,” I pronounce. This dream-come-true store of mine couldn’t have happened without Iris. She owns the building and runs a tiny coffee place next door with her elderly husband living upstairs. I was getting a coffee one morning, and we got to talking. Iris mentioned she had always dreamed of being a florist, and she wished she had the time and energy to have plants and flowers in her coffee shop. With the offer of free rent for six months (or until I could afford to pay it) and a promise of all the unsold flowers that she wanted to decorate the tables in her little shop, the idea became reality. Without telling me, she also put up her building as security on a small business loan in her name that is to be repaid when I can afford it, like the rent on the place. Iris also gave me the only checkbook for the business account, which she later put into my name. “Just in case you have a quiet spell,”