Hi, book buddies đ I can't get over the beauty that is GILDED LILY. It is so entertaining to read too.
Gilded Lily
the second in the Bennet Brothers series,
out December 5th!
MY OPINION
Jane Austen always inspires the best in everyone, and this author is proof of that.
Fun and love bloom in perfect unison in Gilded Lily, and the Bennet Brothers have a singular charm of their own to add to the Austen universe.
Lila is the absolute main character, therefore her life choices and evolution take precedence and the romance is subject to those. That and the fact that they are opposites-she is a flawless and ambitious professional and he is a laid back gardener- make for a very slow-burn romance. Until the moment it really burns which is so hot and poetic it will make you levitate.
I found the whole plot beautifully developed and bittersweet and moving. These two opposite characters agree on a temporary relationship while secretly nurturing feelings and a deep sense of connection and belonging. It is just pure romance, like classic unrequited love. So touching.
The family dynamics are humorous and cute, all defending the flower shop and its legacy. Kash may look invisible, but he is like the scaffolding that keeps everything together.
Despite their hidden longings, Lila and Kash behave with tender honesty towards each other. His patience and understanding are to swoon over, and I loved every aspect in Lila's determined personality with its hard and soft points. She is a queen of control, efficiency and poise.
I laughed with the language of flowers, learned some gardening, felt enlightened by all the selfless generosity of a man who seeks the happiness of a woman in the most vulnerable stage in her life. I fell in love with this couple, and fretted over the impending doom. After all, the differences in status and goals raise a wall that threatens to destroy the beauty of their relationship. Will her old dreams get in the way of her new self? Will his self-doubt undermine the trust that is vital for their feelings to thrive?
So exciting!
The plot surrounding Lila's job as event planner collides with their personal land mines, and the final chapters are fraught with anguish. The Bennet brothers and a very loyal sister are there to support their loved ones, and the happy ending is full of dreamy love and second chances in life. Such a treasure. The writing is gorgeous, fun and insightful.
I feel proud of this book, guys, and it's not even my work
I feel proud of this book, guys, and it's not even my work
Favourite quotes:
All of me knew I should stop. But none of me would.
I was alive with feelings.
Lately, I'd looked around and found a magic in love I hadnât seen before.

The wait is over!

They say thereâs no such thing as perfect.
But Iâve built my life to perfectionâthe perfect boyfriend, the perfect apartment, the perfect career planning celebrity weddings. My jobâmy only jobâis to make sure every event is absolutely and completely perfect.
Whatâs not perfect? Kash Bennet.
And I wish I didnât find that so appealing.
I could have told you every perfectly imperfect thing about the gardener at Longbourne. Like his hair, lush and black and far too long. Or his nose, the flat bridge of a Greek god, bent a little like itâs been broken. Or his size. Beastly. Roped and corded with muscles, gleaming with sweat and peppered with dirt.
Thereâs no escaping him, not if Iâm going to use his familyâs flower shop for my events.
But nothing is what it seems. And in the span of a heartbeat, my perfect life is turned inside out.
They say the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody new. When Kash offers his services to the cause, it sounds like the perfect plan.
Whatâs not part of the plan? Falling in love with the gardener.
But they were rightâthereâs no such thing as perfect.
And Iâm the fool who finds out the hard way.



A SPADE'S A SPADE
KASH
Heaven existed within the walls of our greenhouse.
The shuck of my shovel against the iron wheelbarrow was the second hand on my day. Rich soil mounded on my spade, and I transferred it into the bed of Black-eyed Susans, turning it to feed the sleepy dirt already gathered at the flowersâ feet.I caught sight of the snowy top of my fatherâs head between stalks of amber amaranth down the row where he knelt, hands in the earth. He hummed along with the music playing from the portable speaker on our work cart, and with another shuck, I drove my shovel back into the wheelbarrow.
It was peaceful and familiar, the rhythm of our day, the slanting sun, the humid air and smell of flowers. Iâd worked in my familyâs greenhouse during high schoolâas had all my siblingsâbut where they made their way into the world, I hung back, content to hang back at Longbourne with Dad, unable to leave Mom without anyone to fuss over. And if there was one thing Mrs. Bennet required from life, it was someone to fuss over.
I found myself smiling at the thought. Sheâd see us all married offâin fact, she played the matchmaker like it was her full time jobâbut I had to wonder what sheâd do with herself once we were all gone. Press us for grandchildren and divert her attention to them, if the rest of the Bennet brood was lucky.
The crack of the swinging metal door against the wall wiped that smile off my face. I shot up from my task with a hard look, appalled and accusing, prepared to smite whoever had disturbed our sanctuary.
Lila Parker blew in like a gale, heels clicking like hammers against the cement floor. At the sight of her, my fury abated, replaced by a curious wonder and the incremental slowing of time that always accompanied her entrance.
She was a study in white, pristine and stern in a pantsuit that belonged in some fancy ladyâs luncheon, not a greenhouse. Her legs were ten miles long in those white pants, the matching jacket cut low. A sliver of silken nude fabric was the only thing to mar the line of her cleavage, which my eyes followed before climbing up her lily-white skin, up the long column of her neck, to the set of her uncompromising little jaw.
God, she was pretty when she was mad. Shame she had a boyfriend.
Iâd known Lila since high school, the notorious rule follower and teacherâs pet, thumbing her nose at the trouble the rest of us got in and refusing invitations to parties in favor of SAT prep. Her sister, Ivy, worked here then and stuck around like I had, and though Lilaâd had every opportunity to join the gang, sheâd happily declined. Sheâd ignored me then, and she ignored me now, outside of storming into our flower shop to get onto usâor me specificallyâfor whatever wedding we had, were, or would provide flowers for. As a high-profile wedding planner, I supposed that was her right.
The only bearable thing about it was the chance to give her just a little hell, simply because I knew she could take it and I could take whatever she gave back.
As she approached, her lips set in a firm line, red as blood against the milk of her skin. The bridge of her nose was short, though long enough to look down at everyone from her high horseâor high heels, as it wereâbut her eyes always struck me beyond all else, cool and gray as a winterâs afternoon, tight with suspicion, hard with the bite of demand. Incongruent to the impeccable, pallid shades of snow was her hair, a shining crimson too bright for all that ivory. It was as perfectly right as it was utterly unnatural, the only indicator that she ran on hot coals and gasoline, just waiting for a match to strike so she could ignite. Just as she had once a weekâtypically in my directionâsince sheâd started using Longbourneâs flowers for her events.
That red hair bounced with every click of her heels as she rounded the corner of the aisle and marched toward me, her eyes narrowing another tick when they met mine. Tess, our lead florist, followed with an apologetic look on her face.
My lips tilted higher on one side. And with a shield of calm, unaffected charm in place, I leaned on the handle of my shovel, ready to catch whatever Lila threw at me.
âCoral,â she snapped as she approached. âYou were supposed to give me coral chrysanthemums for the Berkshire wedding, and you sent pink.â She stopped a few feet in front of me, crossing her arms.
I offered an easy smile. âI cut those flowers myself, picked the best stock from our Gigi mums, just like you asked.â
âThen why were they the wrong color? Do you have any idea the tantrum Johanna Berkshire threw over those flowers? She tried to get me fired.â
A chuckle through my nose. âSounds like she needs to get some real problems.â
She eyed me as she drew a breath to fuel her furnace. âFor years, my sister has begged me to bring Longbourne business, and I refused for exactly this reason. If it hadnât been for all your recent press, I never would have put my ass on the line. But if I say coral, I expect coral. Not pink. Not fuchsia. Not goddamn watermelon or flamingo or anything but coral.â
âSorry, Ms. Parker,â I answered lazily. âWonât happen again.â
âYouâre damn right it wonât.â
âHow about we issue the Berkshires a partial refund for the trouble?â
Suspicion sparked in her gaze. âIâm sure that would help.â
âThen consider it done.â
Those cool eyes narrowed even more. âI need someone to come to a venue in Midtown to measure for arbors and garlands. Theyâve requested an archway, and one of you needs to come take the measurements.â
Dad cast me a glance that said not it. The way Tess glared at the back of Lilaâs head, I figured sheâd just as soon claw her in the back with a hand rake than help her measure anything. Lilaâs sister Ivyâwho was a florist at Longbourneâwas entirely too pregnant to measure anything but her uterus, and Wendy, our newest addition, just wasnât experienced enough.
My brother Luke might have done it, but something told me I wanted to be the one to handle Lila Parker.
âSure. When and where?â
âTomorrow, if you can manage it. I can meet you at three, 49th and 5th. Iâm going to need an archway long enough for the wedding party to stand inside, and the arbor will need a special design built in the shape of a triangle. Itâs at theââ She paused, lips flattening. âShouldnât you be taking notes?â
I tapped my temple. âGot it all right here.â
Color rose in her cheeks as she drew a slow breath through her nose. âI really think you should write it down.â
âWhat, donât trust me?â
âI donât know what instills more faithâthat you canât tell the difference between shades of pink or that your shirt says Can You Dig It? on the front.â
I glanced down at my chest, flicking at a streak of dirt like I gave a shit what she thought. âListen, Priss. Iâll be where you say, when you say, ready and at your service.â
A pause while she stared me down, seeming to weigh her options. âAll right, Filthy. Can you at least wear a clean shirt? This venue books for two-hundred-thousand per event, and I donât want to have to get you in through the service entrance.â
âDeal,â I said, extending a hand in challenge. It was as filthy like sheâd said, with crescents of dirt under my nails and enough soil in the creases of my palms to grow zucchinis.
Her eyes dropped to my hand, and for a moment, I was positive sheâd refuse. But somewhere in that pretty little head of hers existed some form of manners and a healthy helping of pride, so she slipped that spotless, manicured hand into my dirty, callused one.
It was soft and warm, though her fingers were strong, gripping my hand and pumping it once, firm and definitive, before taking it back.
Instantly, I felt guilty for daring herâher skin was spoiled with streaks and flecks of dirt. To her credit, she didnât even dust it off. Instead, she held up her chin and gave me a quietly confrontational glare.
âIâll give Ivy the exact address. At least I know sheâll write it down.â
âWhatever you have to do,â I said, returning my forearm to the handle of the shovel, not missing the flick of her eyes to my shoulders and the cross of my arms.
âTomorrow, then. Donât be late.â She tugged tugged the hem of her jacket, straightening it to match the yardstick that was her spine, and once again I lamented taking her hand. A scuff of dirt now sullied the very edge of that white tailored coat.
Before I could apologize, she turned on her heel to walk away.
What she didnât realizeâthe cat had taken up post directly behind her.
The moment stretched as she tilted in a successful attempt to avoid impaling Brutus with her heel, and when that heel came down, it caught in the seam of concrete. Her long legs twisted, arms shooting out for balance but finding none. Fast, but not fast enough, I moved for her, the shovel hitting the ground with a clang as that pristine white ass of hers landed flat in the Black-eyed Susans and that fresh coat of soil Iâd just laid down.
Brutus took a seat next to Tessâs feet, curling his tail around himself and watching Lila with what I swore was a wry smile.
My urge to laugh was so intense, it caught in my chest, frozen by the sheer outrage on her face and utter hysteria of the sight of her, so clean and white against the browns and greens and golds of the flowerbed. A slow heave of her chest as she breathed fire. The pink of her cheeks flaring to red. The gray of her eyes igniting into a cruel shade of blue, illuminated by the inferno of her thoughts.
I stepped up, unable to school my face as I extended a hand, this time to help her up.
But she scowled, slapping my hand away. âIâve got it,â she shot, planting her palms in the dirt to push herself up.
As I backed out of the way, I watched her swipe at her ass, too furious to realize sheâd only smudged the dirt around.
Tess removed her hands from her mouth, unable to right her face any better than I had. âHere, let me help youââ
âI said, Iâve got it.â Lilaâs voice was deadly calm, and at the sound, Tess pinned her lips between her teeth and stepped out of the way.
âTomorrow,â Lila snapped at me over her shoulder, smoothing the shining waves of her hair, which remained undisturbed by her tumble.
âSee you then,â I answered with a nod.
And then I watched that dirty ass stride proudly out the door.
The second it swung closed, laughter bubbled out of Tess, and at the sound, there was no containing my own. Even Dad joined in, shoulders shaking gently.
âOh, the poor Susans,â Tess said, swiping at a tear. âLook, her ass print is still there,â she squeaked before succumbing to another bout of laughter.
âThe look on her face,â I said with the shake of my head. âI donât think Iâve ever seen anybody so mad. Not even you, Tess.â
âAnd thatâs saying something,â she added, resting her palm on her belly like sheâd just done a hundred sit-ups. âGod, if Ivy and Lila didnât look like twins, Iâd never believe they were related.â
âI didnât remember her being thisâŠâ I started.
âBitchy?â
âI was gonna say bossy, but okay.â
Tess sighed. âShe wasnât kidding about sticking her neck out. Sheâs handling this huge celebrity wedding on her own, and her senior is a total asshole, breathing down her neck and micromanaging her at every turn. Addison is constantly looking for reasons to throw Lila under the bus, and if we screw up, Addison will blame Lila. But even though sheâs a pain, the business is good for us. Archer Events handles the biggest weddings in the city, and thatâs putting us in the spotlight. Weâve just gotta deal with all the stress that comes with doing weddings.â
âLike bridezillas and entitled wedding planners?â I asked.
âExactly.â Tess sighed. âAlthough, I donât know what weâre going to do with Lila when Ivy is on maternity leave and isnât here to manage her. Today was bad enough, and Ivy was just at a doctorâs appointment.â
Dad dusted off his hands. âIf she got past you, Tess, I fear for us all.â
âI tried to tell her it wasnât your fault,â Tess said, her eyes full of apology. âThose flowers went through three florists before it got to the weddingâwhich I told herâbut she stormed right past me to yell at you about it.â
I shrugged. âDonât worry about me, TessâI can handle her.â At the disbelieving quirk of her mouth, I added, âI mean it. She can get as mad as she wants and I wonât get riled. Iâll hold the bucket so she can dump all her rage into it, and when sheâs empty of it, Iâll get whatever done that she needs done. Trust me when I promise you thisâLila Parker cannot get to me.â
At that, Tess laughed. âFamous last words.â
And oh, if Iâd only known how right she was.
Want more Bennet Brother goodness?
Grab Coming Up Roses, the first stand alone in the Bennett Brothers series, available now on Amazon in Kindle Unlimited!

Everyone hates parts of their job.
Maybe itâs the paperwork. Maybe itâs the day-to-day grind. Maybe itâs that client who never knows what they want, or the guy who always cooks fish in the microwave.
But not me. I love every corner of the Longbourne Flower Shop, every flower, every petal, every stem. I love the greenhouse, and I love Mrs. Bennet, my boss. I love creating, and I love being a florist. I donât hate anything at all.
Except for Luke Bennet.
The Bennet brothers have come home to help their mom save the flower shop, and Luke is at the helm. His smile tells a tale of lust, loose and easy. He moves with the grace of a predator, feral and wild. A thing unbridled, without rules or constraint. When he comes home to save Longbourne, I almost canât be mad at him. Almost.
He doesnât remember that night Iâll never forget. That kiss, touched with whiskey and fire. It branded me like a red-hot iron. But it meant nothing to him.
Everyone hates part of their job, and I hate Luke Bennet.
Because if I donât, Iâll fall in love with him.
ABOUT THE MASTERMIND

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life -- a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey. When she's not writing, she's reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.
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