App-ily Ever After E-Book

J.L. Jarvis

• Herausgeber: Bookbinder Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 224

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

When AI sparks fly, love’s the glitch they didn’t see coming.

Scarlett Rees is one bad day from kissing her career goodbye—until a game-changing AI app becomes her last shot at redemption. There’s just one problem: Dan Weston, the infuriatingly brilliant tech lead who’s as cold as a server room and twice as stubborn. Forced to collaborate, their clashing personalities ignite more than just creative breakthroughs.

Late-night coding sessions, caffeine-fueled debates, and a few too many unguarded smiles later, Scarlett realizes Dan’s frosty exterior might hide a heart worth debugging. But as their chemistry heats up, so do the stakes—because mixing ambition, algorithms, and attraction is a recipe for chaos. With her future on the line and her feelings in free fall, Scarlett must decide: is a chance at love worth risking the ultimate crash?

App-ily Ever After is a smart, swoony romantic comedy for anyone who believes the best connections don’t need Wi-Fi—just a little courage and a lot of heart.

Leseprobe

ABOUT APP-ILY EVER AFTER

When AI sparks fly, love’s the glitch they didn’t see coming.

Scarlett Rees is one bad day from kissing her career goodbye—until a game-changing AI app becomes her last shot at redemption. There’s just one problem: Dan Weston, the infuriatingly brilliant tech lead who’s as cold as a server room and twice as stubborn. Forced to collaborate, their clashing personalities ignite more than just creative breakthroughs.

Late-night coding sessions, caffeine-fueled debates, and a few too many unguarded smiles later, Scarlett realizes Dan’s frosty exterior might hide a heart worth debugging. But as their chemistry heats up, so do the stakes—because mixing ambition, algorithms, and attraction is a recipe for chaos. With her future on the line and her feelings in free fall, Scarlett must decide: is a chance at love worth risking the ultimate crash?

App-ily Ever After is a smart, swoony romantic comedy for anyone who believes the best connections don’t need Wi-Fi—just a little courage and a lot of heart.

GET THE AUDIOBOOK

jljarvis.com/appily/

ALSO BY J.L. JARVIS

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For more information, visit jljarvis.com.

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APP-ILY EVER AFTER

A WORKPLACE ROMANCE

J.L. JARVIS

APP-ILY EVER AFTER

Copyright © 2025 J.L. Jarvis

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Bookbinder Press

bookbinderpress.com

ISBN (ebook) 978-1-942767-79-4

ISBN (paperback) 978-1-942767-80-0

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

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Thank You!

Book News

About the Author

1

Scarlett Rees rushed through the office corridor past a maze of cubicles, her heels clicking against the floor tiles. She glanced at her watch and muttered under her breath, “Five minutes late and counting.” Her director had invited her to this meeting to consult on the development of a new app. Her presence was, she presumed, an afterthought prompted by a hallway conversation with Max—short for Maxine—Pembroke, director of research and development. Their brief chat was cut short by Max’s administrator, who whisked her away for something far more important than Scarlett. Max turned back and said, “I’ll catch you up on the details later.” Later never quite came, but Scarlett had no worries. She knew they’d touch base at some point after the meeting—if she ever made it there.

From the start, her morning had been peppered with frustrating events—beginning with a near collision when a car with no brake lights cut her off, jostling her coffee cup and leaving splashes of Italian roast down the front of her favorite silk blouse. Then, a rogue family of ducks crossed the road to the village park’s charming little pond. After cursing at the fluffy, feathered creatures and feeling a pang of guilt for having done so, she drove on toward the parking lot. Once there, she sighed with relief—until she discovered the last parking space had been taken. Now desperate, she headed for the forbidden visitor spaces, but every last one was occupied. Her final resort was the side of the road, a good half mile’s walk away.

Once she sank her heels into the grassy shoulder, she slung her valise over her shoulder and grumbled, “Oh well. What’s another five minutes when you’re already late?”

In heels, the jog would have been long, but she tripped on the way, landed on all fours, and scraped her knee through what had become her torn pants. Propelled onward by a few choice words for the person who stole her parking spot, she pulled off her heels and hobbled barefoot the rest of the way to the building.

Scarlett prided herself on punctuality, which made being late all the more irritating. As she hurried through the corridor, she caught her reflection in the glass walls—her copper hair falling from its usually pristine bun, her favorite silk blouse now sporting an impressive coffee constellation. At thirty-two, she’d hoped to have her life more together than this. Her time at art school had taught her to see beauty in imperfection, but that appreciation rarely extended to herself. She had traded her dreams of gallery openings for a steadier paycheck from UI design, telling herself it was just temporary. Five years later, “temporary” had become her new normal. Still, she couldn’t quite squash that creative spark that made her see the world differently—both a blessing and a curse in the corporate tech world.

With a rehearsed apology at the ready, she burst into the conference room. Her words caught in her throat as she took in the scene before her. The conference table was not only packed with the usual suspects—developers, project managers, and her director—but also with two VPs, people she usually saw from a distance who took little notice of lowly corporate serfs like her. The clearing of someone’s throat drew Scarlet’s attention to a person at the front of the room—a tall, chestnut-haired man whose piercing eyes now bore through hers. With an apologetic smile that he didn’t return, Scarlett slid into a chair at the opposite end of the conference table.

He was clearly in the middle of a presentation—or had been before she barged in. All eyes fixed on her for a moment then darted away with barely concealed condescension. He blinked and continued, his voice clipped and businesslike. “Our AI-powered app will bring entire lives—well, to life—but in a fresh, social media-rich iteration. In short, this will revolutionize the self-discovery market.”

Scarlett couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his robotic enthusiasm. For a tech nerd, he could do a decent hard sell, complete with strong, animated gestures.

And nice shoulders and arms. He didn’t get those muscles from hammering code on a keyboard.

His athletic build notwithstanding, she’d heard this sort of pitch so many times—just another tech bro promising to change the world with a gimmicky app.

Scarlett cleared her own throat, once more interrupting his monologue. “Sorry again for being late, but um… question: how exactly is this app going to ‘revolutionize’ the self-absorbed market?”

“The self-discovery market,” he corrected with an icy stare.

Ignoring his overreaction to her guileless question, she pressed on. “I guess what I’m asking is: isn’t this just another journaling app for screen addicts?”

When he, too, raised an eyebrow, his face an impassive mask, Scarlett took it as her cue to back off. She’d come to realize early on in her career that the workplace had two types of people: those who were driven by curiosity and those who hated the first type. No question which type he was. Her eyes darted about to the others, who all seemed to regard her as they might a zoo exhibit, only with less interest. Scarlett tried to backpedal. “By which I mean self-reflection is good.”

The man paused, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “Actually,” he said, his voice calm but chilling, “ChronicleMeis much more than… that.”

Scarlett tried not to wince at the fleeting pain in his eyes. Now weighed down by guilt, she averted her gaze, but wherever she looked, everyone was staring at her. She stammered. “Uh, I’m sure it is.” Then she froze, mouth agape, drawing a blank on his name. She’d seen him around and sat in meetings with him. She was nearly sure they’d even been introduced. For months, he’d been sitting three cubicles down—since a big corporation bought their small startup and they moved to the current glass-and-chrome building. He was one of those people scattered throughout the cubicle farm like functional fixtures. If they’d ever spoken a word to each other, she couldn’t remember. But he did have a name. So what was it? Doug? Donald? No… Dave. Yeah. “Look, Dave⁠—”

“Dan.”

“Dan.” She exhaled and then tried to look pleasant. “I just meant—” What did I mean? “It’s a… fascinating concept—one well worth exploring.”

As if unaware Scarlett was in the middle of a point, albeit an amorphous one, Max, her director, chimed in, “Absolutely!”

Scarlett’s eyebrows shot up in shock, but as she recovered, she caught Max’s gaze and tried to look bright-eyed.

Dan smiled warmly at Max then resumed his pitch. “ChronicleMe uses cutting-edge machine learning to analyze users’ digital content and create a visually appealing timeline of their life events, milestones, and memories, along with a printable biological narrative.” He continued to talk while Scarlett’s mind wandered.

Blah-blah-blah… As if that charming smile will catapult that jumble of tech-speak past Max’s keen business sense. Just surrender now, Dorothy. She’s too smart for you—and your little code too! Oh God, is he still talking?

“… in effect giving ordinary people a compelling, heirloom-quality biography by a highly trained ghostwriter.”

Scarlett drew in a quick—and apparently loud—breath. Which may have been more of a gasp. Heads turned. She froze, mouth gaping open again, for a moment.

Dan leveled a withering look. “Yes?”

“Oh. I was just thinking.”

Dan raised an eyebrow.

Well, now that was just rude! “It could be amazing, and I’m sure there are some amazing social media posts out there, but…”

Dan stared blankly while Max’s brows furrowed.

“I mean, have you looked at social media posts lately?”

It was only the look in his eyes, but Scarlett saw it as indignant. Really? You’re offended by that?

Dan said calmly, “One or two, yes.”

He did have a point. She realized he must have been buried in social media through this first phase of his project. Oh well. Sorry?

She tried not to laugh. “C’mon. It’s all snapshots of lunch plates and, oh, look—a cat. Fluffy the Furball is licking his—” She paused, taking in the blank stares. “I mean, come on. We’re not talking Annie Leibovitz, are we?”

Dan then fired a deadly shot across the bow. Silence. Total squirm-inducing silence.

Someone say something. Scarlett felt herself blush. “Sorry, but just trying to imagine a riveting narrative built around snapshots of breakfast, the top of a tour bus, or political posturing no one cares about. It ain’t Shakespeare.” Met with more silence, she shrugged. “Or maybe it is. What are politics but your Montagues here and your Capulets there, all clumped together and strutting about in their codpieces?”

Blank stares. Oh, c’mon, people. Lighten up!

Unfazed, Dan explained as if to a child, “But that’s the beauty of ChronicleMe. It has the power to be more imaginative than you.” He stopped abruptly then added, “—than you might imagine.”

Excuse me? Scarlett couldn’t help frowning. Did he just call me unimaginative? Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Well, I’d like to see that!”

Max leaned back in her chair, her eyes lit with interest. “So would I! I’m intrigued!”

After flashing a taut smile at Max, Dan cast a subtly scathing glance Scarlett’s way, then went on, his voice never wavering from its professional cadence. “There’s no doubt some people’s lives are a light read. But imagine the implications for someone on their deathbed who wants to leave answers to questions their young child might one day have, or for an adult child seeking to understand his estranged father.”

“Like genealogy research?” Now we’re making some sense.

Dan’s lips thinned into a tolerant line. “Oh, but this is so much more than dry documents, census records, or scans of crumpled papers pulled from a box in the attic. ChronicleMe’s finely honed machine learning will have the power to scour a host of online resources to form a unique web—with the beauty of handcrafted lace⁠—”

The beauty of handcrafted lace. Who’s he kidding?

“—of family and friends and other online contacts. People’s lives could be brought into marked relief, allowing loved ones to know them in ways they never could have before. Joyful, meaningful, or poignant moments in life could be remembered and passed down, preserving their digital legacy for future generations.”

Wow, did he ever miss his calling? He could open a word-salad bar.

My app, blah-blah-blah… He’s passionate—about his ideas, anyway. Elsewhere remains to be seen. She tried not to smirk as she inwardly chuckled. But in that instant, as if reading her thoughts, he shot her a look—a burning, unsettling look. Scarlett’s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes locked with his for a moment. Scarlett told herself the fire in his eyes was merely left over from describing the project he loved.

His eyes darted away, and the moment ended. Scarlett could breathe. But now she wondered.

“I love it!” Her boss, Max, the emotionless director of research and development, practically had tears in her eyes as she said that.

Scarlett watched her, amazed. Had they been in the same meeting? Had they heard the same pitch? More importantly, had she ever seen Max so enthused? About anything? Scarlett realized she was shaking her head. After suddenly stopping, she glanced around. No one noticed. No, wait. Dan did. In one instant of eye contact, he seemed to look through her with an unmistakable air of self-satisfaction.

A little sound of exasperation escaped from her throat loudly enough for the guy sitting beside her to turn. She answered his quizzical look with a sudden fit of feigned coughing until he turned away.

When the effusive gushing over Dan’s presentation finally subsided, Max closed her laptop. “Let’s move forward with this. Dan, let’s talk more. Schedule a spot on my calendar this week.”

He replied with an eager nod.

Well, why wouldn’t he be eager? His career’s going great. While mine? Mine’s slogging along with my state university education, which was great, except talent and skill don’t really matter because I didn’t get my ticket punched at a top school—like the ones I got into but couldn’t afford to attend. Except, turns out, I could have because all the students who went to the fancy schools are having their college loans forgiven by the government. Meanwhile, I did the responsible thing and didn’t borrow beyond my means. And look at me now. Life just isn’t fair.

“Scarlett?”

She looked over at Max, who was waiting.

“I said, ‘I want you to take the lead on design.’”

“Oh. Great!” Smile. It’ll look better than that deer-in-the-headlights expression that you’re probably sporting. Take the lead? No one has let me take the lead since that children’s-game app that no child would touch. This could bring my career back on track. Or destroy it. No pressure. But why did it have to be this project? Why me? And why him?

Scarlett was sure every thought that she had must be written on her face, because Max seemed to answer. “Your perspective and artistic style will complement Dan’s vision.”

Scarlett shot a quick look at Dan. For the first time in this meeting, his thoughts were apparent. He’d gotten a green light, and although he was now saddled with Scarlett, he’d still be in charge. An unexpected grin bloomed on his face, the sort of grin some might call winning, which Scarlett supposed he was—which meant she was losing.

And yet, if an upside existed here, this project could be an opportunity to redeem herself in Max’s eyes. Scarlett would never forget the disappointment she’d seen there when the reviews came out for her last project, a children’s-game app. Tax Tykes: A Double-Entry Adventure in Accounting was universally loathed by children and parents alike. In her defense, the app was never her idea. She’d merely spearheaded the artistic design. But she was part of the team, which made her part of the failure.

Scarlett smiled at Max. “Great. I’ll get right on it.”

“Good. Dan, why don’t you get together with Scarlett sometime today and walk her through what you’ve got so far?”

Before Dan could reply, Max’s assistant zoomed in, and the two were soon off, leaving Scarlett and Dan. Scarlett looked around at the now-empty conference room. “Wow! It’s amazing how fast a room can clear out.”

Dan’s face remained impassive. “Yeah, well, efficiency is key in this business.”

His cold response left Scarlett wrong-footed. She attempted to lighten the mood. “Well, the pressure’s off now.”

His only reply was a questioning look.

Scarlett felt compelled to elaborate. “Because the project’s approved.” Still no response.

Dan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah. Despite having my presentation disrupted by a latecomer who hadn’t bothered to familiarize herself with the project.”

Scarlett felt her hackles rise. “Excuse me? I was brought into this at the last minute, so I didn’t have a chance. I had questions. Isn’t that what meetings are for?”

“No. This particular meeting was so I could introduce my project without any disruptions.”

“Oh!” she said more loudly than she’d intended. She lowered her voice. “Well, if you’re so concerned about disruptions, maybe be a little more engaging so people won’t notice.”

A muscle twitched in Dan’s jaw, the only indication that her words had any effect. “Look,” he said, his voice tightly controlled, “like it or not, we’re going to be working together, so I suggest we keep things professional and focus on the task at hand.”

Professional? “Oh, do you? Well, I think⁠—”

“Everyone knows what you think!”

“That’s what I was there for—to think!”

Dan scowled. “But not to arrive late and disrupt the flow.”

Scarlett cast a pitying gaze and pouted. “Oh. I disrupted your flow?”

She was ready for sarcasm, an angry retort, anything but a cold, emotionless stare. With no warning, he turned and left.

Hold on! I wasn’t finished! But he was finished—and halfway down the hall.

“Are you finished in here?” A pleasant young admin stood in the doorway. “Sorry, but we’ve got it signed out for the next two hours.”

Scarlett turned and tried to tamp down her irritation with Dan. “Yes. Sorry. I’m leaving.” Quickly, she scooped up her notes, shoved them into her valise, and was halfway to the door when the admin called out. Cord and laptop in hand, she pointed at Dan’s laptop. “Don’t forget your computer!”

With a glance down at her laptop clutched in her arms, Scarlett said, “Oh, it’s not mine.”

Judging by the admin’s expression, she didn’t really care.

“Never mind. I’ll take care of it.” Scarlett grabbed Dan’s laptop and left. Great. You had to be nice. Now you’ll have to talk to him—which is why your career isn’t where you think it should be, because you can’t think quickly enough on your feet.

* * *

“Scarlett, wait up,” Dan called, his voice clipped as he jogged to catch up with her.

She held out his computer, trying to mask her irritation. “Here, I thought it would be more efficient if I brought this to you. Wouldn’t want to disrupt another meeting’s flow.”

His mouth tightened at her sarcasm while an unnecessarily awkward computer handoff took place. As much as they both seemed intent on avoiding it, skin brushed against skin, sending an unexpected spark through Scarlett. Curse you, static electricity! It’s just the dry air and carpet.

Still, Scarlett couldn’t help but notice how warm his fingers felt against hers, despite his cold demeanor. She quickly dismissed the thought, chalking it up to her overactive artist’s imagination—the same imagination that had once earned her accolades in art school before the realities of paying rent had steered her towards the more practical world of graphic design. Still, something about the way Dan’s eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t quite name made her wonder if there was more to this stern, infuriating man than met the eye.

Having handed off the laptop, Scarlett turned to head for her desk.

“Look,” Dan said in a tone devoid of warmth.

Must I? She turned. What now? Don’t think that just because you impressed Max, I’ll fall for your pitch. You and your stony face and insufferable manner.

“We need to discuss the project parameters,” Dan stated flatly.

A mix of emotions coursed through her, arriving at resignation and dread, which Dan seemed to assiduously ignore. “Now?” Scarlett asked, unable to keep the reluctance from her voice.

“Yes, now. Unless you have more important matters to attend to?” His tone made it clear he doubted that could be possible.

Scarlett paused, weighing her options. On the one hand, she’d do almost anything to avoid Dan. On the other hand, she reminded herself, this project could resurrect her floundering career. “I guess we may as well get started,” she conceded.

Dan nodded curtly.

Ten minutes later, they were seated at a small table in the company cafe, steaming cups of coffee before them. She had to hand it to Dan. He commanded attention not just through his height—though Scarlett couldn’t deny that at six foot two, he cut an impressive figure—but through a kind of focused intensity that seemed to radiate from him. His chestnut hair had a persistent wayward streak that defied corporate styling, and his hazel eyes held a peculiar mix of determination and hidden warmth. At thirty-five, he’d already made a name for himself in the tech world, though there were vague rumors of personal tragedy that drove him. He carried himself with the confidence of someone used to being the smartest person in the room, yet there was something almost vulnerable in the way he absently rubbed the old watch on his wrist whenever he was deep in thought.

As the silence stretched out uncomfortably, Scarlett couldn’t take any more and broke it. “So,” she said, her tone cautious, “ChronicleMe.”

Dan leaned forward, his eyes intense but devoid of warmth. “This app will revolutionize how people understand themselves and others,” he stated. “By analyzing digital footprints, we’ll provide a tool for self-discovery that’s both insightful and accessible.”

Scarlett nodded slowly, feigning interest. Yeah, I’ve already heard your pitch once today. I was there, remember? “And how do you plan to make it user-friendly? I’m just wondering how many people will wade through your data analysis only to learn they need a hobby—besides posting pet pictures.”

Dan’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “That’s where your role comes in,” he said, his tone making it clear he had doubts about her capabilities. “Max seems to think highly of your design skills.”

Don’t look so surprised. “I can make it look good.” She said it as if she believed it. The bitter aftertaste of Tax Tykeswas still on her palette.

He looked straight at her. “I want more than good. I want ChronicleMe to be so intuitive that users are barely aware of the data. It should simply flow⁠—”

Again with the flowing. “Like a lazy river of data.” Oops. That was snarky. It just slipped out.

His eyes narrowed. “Like the past come to life.”

With renewed dedication, Scarlett strove to stay focused. “We could start with a visual timeline,” she suggested, her creative mind already at work despite her dislike for the man.

Dan nodded, his face impassive. “Go on.”

“We map out users’ digital lives, highlighting key moments and patterns—all hyperlinked. Then we add realistic animation to key photos and interactivity with past posts.”

A flicker of interest crossed his face, quickly replaced by his usual stoic expression. “Sentiment analysis could color-code different life periods, showing emotional trends.”

“Like movie storyboards,” Scarlett added, surprised to find common ground with him.

“Precisely.” Dan paused, his eyes suddenly distant. “But ChronicleMe isn’t only about preserving happy moments or creating digital scrapbooks,” he said, his voice softer than Scarlett had heard before. “It’s about understanding the full tapestry of a life, even the threads we might have missed or forgotten. Sometimes, those are the most important ones.”

Scarlett frowned, confused by his sudden shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

But Dan had already snapped back to his businesslike demeanor. “Never mind. Let’s focus on making this happen.”

As they spent the next hour exchanging ideas, the project’s potential began to overshadow their mutual animosity. To her surprise, Dan listened to her ideas—really listened. The more seriously he took her, the guiltier she felt about her earlier behavior. Not that he or his ideas had won her over. He was still the same aloof guy she’d sparred with in the meeting. But by the time they finished their coffee, Scarlett was surprised to find the experience hadn’t been entirely unpleasant.

During their walk back to their cubicles, Dan paused at Scarlett’s desk. “Thank you for sharing your… input.”

Thank you for sharing? “Uh… you’re welcome.”

Dan’s face remained impassive. “So. Back to work.” With a nearly military pivot, he turned and went back to his desk.

Bewildered by his abruptness, Scarlett watched in stunned silence as he walked away. Just as she’d begun to feel comfortable with him, he shut down any connection between them as if he’d flipped a switch. He was finished with her. She’d served her purpose, so end of discussion. Click.

As Scarlett made her way through the office, her past career failure, which was never far from her thoughts, came to mind. Just three months before, she had been the lead designer on Tax Tykes, a highly anticipated educational app for children. She had poured her heart and soul into the project, working countless late nights and weekends to perfect every detail of the interface.

But when Tax Tykes launched, it was a disaster. The app had been thoroughly tested and performed flawlessly. The graphics were gorgeous—in Scarlett’s opinion, anyway. And they had a slick, multifaceted marketing scheme that was sure to succeed. Until it didn’t. Children found it boring. The reviews were scathing, and within weeks, the company pulled it from app stores. While Scarlett’s boss had acknowledged that the failures weren’t entirely her fault, the damage to her career and confidence was done.