Authors: Sandi Perry
Come Fly With Me
| Come Fly With Me |
| Sandi Perry |
| Sandi Perry (2012) |
Haven’t we all experienced a moment when we’ve said something we wish we could take back? What if you were an eleven-year old girl and thought that moment caused the death of someone you cherished? Allison Ross, now a twenty-nine year old art gallery owner in Chelsea, was that young girl. The sudden death of her father in a suspicious car crash begins the unraveling of the tightly-wound world she has built around herself. This present day tragedy raises the unresolved issue of her Uncle Joey's untimely demise, for which she feels responsible. Adding to her turmoil, she is shocked to learn that she's been named interim CEO of her father's luxury jet company.
Past and present blur as she fights to maintain control of a company she wants no involvement in while she struggles to keep her gallery afloat.
Allison's neighbor and good friend, Kenyon James, bakes butter-filled goodies culled from her Bubby's recipe files, and teases her that one day someone is going to come along who will be able to break through the armor she wears over her heart. Enter Alexander Coventry, a brilliant barracuda who is the prime candidate to take her father's place as CEO of RossAir Industries. Alex is the charmingly handsome son of a wealthy Atlanta family whose father taught him defeat is not an option. Allison and Alexander have two things in common—they both feel the need to prove to themselves to their fathers, and they're both incredibly stubborn. His motives toward her and the company get muddier by the day as these two opinionated forces dance around one another as they jockey for power, fall in love, and search for her father's killer. The story reaches its climax with a return to the cliffs of Frenchman's Bay in Bar Harbor, the scene of her early childhood trauma.
Fly
With
Me
By
Sandi
Perry
Copyright
©
by
Sandi
Perry
2012
Smashwords Edition
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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
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Allison
Ross
turned
on
her
side
at
the
insistence
of
a
shovel
tapping
her
back
and
came
eye
to
eye
with
a
cherubic-looking
three-year
old.
Beneath
the
sun-hat,
blonde
ringlets
bounced
as
the
little
girl
handed
her
the
shovel
filled
with
sand
and
gestured
for
her
to
eat.
Allison
complied,
offering
up
the
appropriate
lip-smacking
noises
as
the
little
girl
pealed
with
delight.
“I’m
so
sorry,”
the
nanny
hurried
over.
“I
was
just
changing
the
baby
when
I
saw
her
bother
you.”
“Believe
me,
it
was
no
bother.
She
is
quite
cute
and
quite
the
cook,”
Allison
responded.
She
watched
as
the
young
nanny
made
her
way
back
to
the
umbrella
with
the
baby
tucked
on
her
hip
and
the
toddler
firmly
in
her
grasp.
None
of
that
for
me,
she
shuddered.
Kids
were
definitely
not
on
the
menu.
Allison
hit
shuffle
on
her
iPod
and
Miley
came
on,
singing
her
little
heart
out.
Her
brother,
Jeremy,
made
fun
of
her
mercilessly
since
she
was
a
good
fifteen
years
older
that
the
average
Cyrus
fan.
But
the
girl
had
deep
down
passion
and
the
music
moved
her—go
figure.
Allison
ran
an
offshoot
of
her
successful
Chelsea
art
gallery
out
of
Martha’s
Vineyard
every
summer.
Who
could
have
predicted
the
President
would
choose
the
Vineyard
to
vacation
with
his
wife
and
young
daughters
the
last
two
weeks
of
the
summer.
Her
beloved
gallery
had
been
stampeded,
trampled
upon,
picked
through,
and
probably
worse—not
that
it
hadn’t
been
very,
very
good
for
business.
After
she
closed
the
Vineyard
location
for
the
summer,
Allison
gratefully
skipped
town
for
a
few
heavenly
days
of
peace
under
Miami's
bright
sun.
The
only
irritation
to
her
otherwise
pristine
solitude
was
the
men.
She
kept
swatting
at
them
like
the
circling
pests
that
they
were.
She
had
always
cursed
her
looks—jet-black
hair,
sharp
cheekbones,
and
pale
skin,
just
like
the
wicked
queen
in
Snow
White,
her
brother,
Jeremy,
would
tease.
Now,
as
she
sat
under
an
umbrella,
slathered
with
sunscreen,
she
remembered
how
she
would
have
done
anything
for
a
freckle
when
she
was
a
kid,
just
to
fit
in.
She
leaned
back
in
her
chaise
and
settled
in
to
her
favorite
fantasy
of
George
Clooney
as
he
declared
his
undying
love
for
her.