tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79533265703536537012024-03-13T03:03:24.743-07:00Elle AycartElle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-50504156375192315372020-09-03T00:15:00.001-07:002020-09-03T00:15:46.591-07:00GREASE BABE (The OGs Book 2) CHAPTER REVEAL<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhQcDrghiF4K3wbc3aHVVMRi-94ulijMTgDzvZSGY1W8ARKxSH4mvOy4sfML6qri5P9GU693wzm2VK19dgPuPQ8DE4m2qUbkPLVo9Cq50mxpqPvx7fq5kU7w3rXSF3C_2GqjrJ7rzUk4k/s2048/GreaseBabe+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhQcDrghiF4K3wbc3aHVVMRi-94ulijMTgDzvZSGY1W8ARKxSH4mvOy4sfML6qri5P9GU693wzm2VK19dgPuPQ8DE4m2qUbkPLVo9Cq50mxpqPvx7fq5kU7w3rXSF3C_2GqjrJ7rzUk4k/s320/GreaseBabe+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /> CHAPTER ONE (Unedited version)<p></p><p>“Chief, we have a situation,” came over the radio.<br />“Code?” Adrian Skehan, Alden's sheriff, asked, tapping on the steering wheel impatiently. <br />“Unclear. Old McPherson is seeing blinking lights in the wilderness,” Holly, the sheriff’s office dispatcher, explained. “Couldn't find a code for that.” <br />Of course not.<br />“Stationary or moving?” he asked, without even flinching.<br />That was something he would have never said in his previous life as a Boston police detective.<br />A scoff. “Stationary, boss. Stationary. We have a code for moving lights, don't you remember?”<br />True. They came up with it after Mrs. Hayden got into documentaries about extraterrestrial life and believed her lapses in memory had nothing to do with her fondness for cherry liqueur but that she was actually being kidnapped by aliens. <br />Kids playing with a laser pointer hadn't helped at all. <br />CIA was the code. Cherry Induced Abduction.<br />How he ended up in such a crazy town, where law enforcement needed a special code list, he had no clue. <br />Well, he did. He just didn’t want to think about it. <br />“He said it’s coming from the old B&B. Sparkly, white-bluish lights.”<br />“On my way.” <br />Probably teenagers messing around. <br />Alden's B&B had been closed for many years, but now that it had a new owner, it was being renovated and reopening in a couple of months.<br />He parked the patrol car in front of the building and walked toward the swimming pool area, where, as reported, a bluish flickering light was coming from. As he approached, he heard the chatter, the clicking of glasses, and someone yelling LOLOOO.<br />Shit. Shit. Shit. <br />Dispatcher had been wrong; they did have a code for this: OG WMD. Original Grandmas Weapons of Mass Destruction. In his previous life, he'd been chasing terrorists and narcos. Now? Now he chased senior citizens. And more often than not, they managed to escape him. Not running, though, simply smiling and patting him on his arm as they faked ignorance. <br />The bane of his existence, Rebecca, Wilma and Greta were in the swimming pool, on the jacuzzi side, wearing very indiscreet flowery bathing caps and drinking what looked like champagne. They'd turned the lights on and the bubbles too. Music played from somewhere—one of the grannies’ cells, probably.<br />Man, he thought that once these bunch got Mike, Rebecca’s grandson, and Kyra, his first love, hooked up, they would have calmed down, but no.<br />The second they saw him, the grannies glanced at one another, each drawing in a big breath, and with cheeks full of air, dove into the water, looking like crazed chipmunks.<br />For the love of God.<br />He crossed his arms and stood by the pool, waiting for them to come up for air. <br />It took a while before those damn bathing caps resurfaced. He had to give it to them; for eighty-year-olds, they had great pulmonary capacity.<br />“Well?” he asked with a glare, his voice as stern as he could muster.<br />Silence. Then Wilma, the one with the flashy red cap, turned to her partners in crime. “Didn't work, girls. He's still here.”<br /><br /><br />*****<br /><br /><br />“Never seen this place from this point of view,” Wilma said, sitting on the holding cell’s bench and glancing around. “Rather inhospitable.”<br />Rebecca and Greta, both on the bench next to her, nodded.<br />“You know what's missing? Curtains,” Greta suggested. “Some festive theme. In red. There would be no outside view, but the bars would stay hidden. Would boost morale.” <br />Wilma assented. “And pillows. This bench is too hard.”<br />And now that they were on the topic, an in-depth cleaning would do this place a world of good.<br />"In hindsight, it was a good decision to keep the bathing suits on,” Rebecca said.<br />Yep, it had been. Or they would have been facing charges for breaking and entering, indecent exposure, and giving an officer of the law a heart attack. <br />“He got mad this time,” Greta murmured. “The bottle of champagne didn't help.” Neither did all the run-ins they’d had with Adrian lately. <br />“I can't believe you arrested them,” they heard Rachel yelling from the office.<br />“Your granddaughter is here to rescue us,” Rebecca said, turning to Wilma. Then she frowned. “We didn't get a free phone call, like in the movies. Or did we get it and I spaced out?”<br />“I don't remember calling anyone,” Greta mused, shaking her head.<br />Neither did she, but whoever had phoned Rachel had their best interest in mind. Rebecca's grandson, Mike, would have bailed them out but would have given them a talk and taken the sheriff's side. Greta's son, Grady, would probably pay to keep them behind bars. Rachel was the only one carrying the senior flag. She always took their side, no matter what. Even when they were in the wrong.<br />She'd rushed to their defense when the sheriff tried to get Wilma's driving license revoked, which, taking into consideration that they were driving twice the allowed speed and about to turn into oncoming traffic, kind of made sense. In their defense, though, Wilma hadn't had her glasses on, so she hadn't seen the speedometer. And the oncoming traffic consisted of an empty street with a couple of cars parked on it.<br />Rachel sounded outraged. “You can't keep eighty-year-olds in a holding cell.”<br />“And I wouldn't have if they didn’t try to convince one of my officers to release them.”<br />“Since when is it a crime to try to conv—”<br />“Slipping him money,” Adrian cut Rachel off. <br />“I told you it was a bad idea,” Rebecca mumbled to her friends. “A fifty-dollar bill was too little.” <br />“Trying to bribe an officer is illegal. Breaking and entering too,” Adrian stated, his voice calm. So far.<br />Rachel's snort was loud. And rude. “There was nothing broken, and they didn't enter the building. They just used the outdoors facilities. You could say they were rehearsing for the opening, making sure everything worked.”<br />Wilma looked at her friends. “Why didn’t we think of that?”<br />The conversation outside seemed to grow louder and louder. Rebecca lifted her shoulders. “In between the champagne and the chlorine, I ended up guzzling, I was a bit fuzzy. Still am.”<br />Greta pointed at the toilet in the far corner. “It's the smell coming from that. As soon as we get out of here, we're organizing some fundraiser to get this place in tip-top shape.”<br />Wilma couldn't stifle the laughter. “You plan on visiting often?” At her friend’s shrug, she dug into the pocket of her bathrobe and produced her cellphone. “Let’s immortalize the moment. Just in case.”<br />“You had your phone all this time?” Rebecca asked.<br />“I just remembered. Let’s do a selfie. With the bars as the backdrop. Ladies, get your duck faces on.”<br />“I really don’t understand it,” Greta said in a sigh. “All our lives being told small lips are beautiful, and look at us now. Right when we need them, they’ve deflated.”<br />“Like everything else,” Rebecca commiserated. “No lips, no boobs, no ass. Just shriveled-up skin.”<br />“It’s from all the time we spent in the pool, don’t worry,” Greta said.<br />Rebecca didn’t seem too convinced.<br />“Ready?” Wilma asked, interrupting. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, so she wasn’t sure the shot was centered, but she stretched out her hand, took the picture and hoped for the best. “Now let’s Tweet with the hashtags #campingwiththegirls #exploringnewfrontiers #nevertooOldtogetarapsheet.” <br />“Two months,” Adrian said sternly. Wilma could almost see him standing with his arms crossed on his chest. That handsome, young face of his, frowning and getting old and crinkled prematurely. What a waste. “The B&B opens in a couple of months. Couldn't they wait?”<br />Rachel was raising her voice, sounding exasperated. “They don’t make long-term plans.”<br />“Two months is a long-term plan?”<br />“What do you think? They don't even buy their bananas green,” her granddaughter all but yelled, her tone aggravated. Wilma could also see her in her mind, standing as tall as possible, on tiptoe, probably, facing off with Adrian. “This is an abuse of authority.”<br />Rebecca turned to Wilma. “I love your Rachel. You really got lucky in the grandchildren department.”<br />Wilma knew. She'd missed her granddaughter's childhood because of the divorce, but Rachel had gotten in touch with her ten years ago, and when she decided to move to Alden, Wilma had been ecstatic.<br />“Like you can complain with Mike,” Greta said to Rebecca. “You’re both lucky. I struck out.”<br />Greta's son was no fun. Her grandson, Connor, was a sweetheart, but he was in the military and was very seldom in the US.<br />“I remind you I'm already taking care of all the police cars’ maintenance.” Rachel’s voice was getting louder by the second. <br />“Three cars. Do I have to remind you what the OGs did to make that happen?”<br />Greta and Wilma stared at Rebecca, who whispered, “What?! That was an accident. It could happen to any one of us.”<br />“Wait a second.” There was a pause, and then Rachel cursed. “You have them in their bathing suits and wet robes? What are you thinking? They’re old. They could get a cold and die,” Rachel reprimanded him.<br />Good attempt at guilt tripping. It might have worked with other police officers, but Adrian was too seasoned. The OGs knew; they’d tried it before. <br />Adrian snorted. “They won’t. Viruses don’t dare mess with them. And it’s not my fault they decided to drive there in their bathing suits and without any spare clothes. Wait, how do you know…”<br />“They’re Tweeting from their cell, that’s why. You have them half-naked in there.”<br />Oops… and Wilma thought she’d pointed the camera at their faces.<br />“I’m going to sue you,” Rachel continued. “The whole department. This is misuse of power. Abuse of authority. Human rights violation. Whatever it’s called.”<br />From then on, Wilma couldn’t make out the words, because both were screaming. After a short while, the door from the corridor opened, and Rachel marched in, followed by Adrian.<br />“How good to see you, dear. You're here to bail us out?” Wilma asked, as the sheriff began unlocking the cell. <br />Rachel had her arms crossed, her lips pursed, and was giving him the evil eye. “I'm afraid not, Grandma.”<br />Adrian opened the cell and, to their surprise, pushed Rachel in and closed the door behind her. “She’s being charged with disorderly conduct.”<br />“Disorderly conduct, my ass,” she replied. “This is contempt of cop.”<br />The sheriff ignored Rachel. “The phone, ladies,” he demanded, stretching his hand out to them.<br />Wilma harrumphed but gave it to him. “Don’t take it out on poor Walter. He was scared of frisking me.”<br />“Have a great evening, ladies," he said as he walked away. “See you tomorrow.”<br />“Now what?” Greta asked when they were alone again.<br />The four of them sat on the bench. <br />Wilma sighed. “Now we wait until Mike logs on to Twitter.”<br /><br /><br />*****<br /><br /><br />The next day, Rachel stomped down the stairs of the Town Hall, the OGs in tow, Mike behind them. <br />“Sentenced to community service,” she said, fuming. “At age eighty. For breaking and entering and attempting to bribe an officer of the law. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” <br />Her grandma and the other two culprits turned to each other and shrugged. No, not ashamed at all.<br />“It could had been worse,” Wilma admitted.<br />“Really? How much worse?”<br />“We could have been naked. Skinny dipping at our age is probably considered two offenses. Indecent exposure and attempted murder. If we got community service now, imagine what we would have had if we gave the sheriff a heart attack.”<br />Ha-ha.<br />“And we had a hostile judge.” <br />“Well, if you wouldn’t have reprimanded him.” Although Rachel understood her grandma. Who could look seriously at a judge when you’ve changed his diapers? All in all, they had been lucky. Alden only had two judges, and Greta had had an altercation during bingo with the other one, who was infamous for holding grudges. <br />“They have a point there,” Mike admitted, trying very unsuccessfully to stifle his laugh. “The judge was a jackass.”<br />“Not helping, Mike. You’re taking this rather well.”<br />He lifted his hands. “As they said, it could be worse.”<br />Since hooking up with Kyra, Mike was much more relaxed. A year ago, he would have hit the roof and lectured them, too.<br />“I see. Our grandmothers are going through their bucket list, and the only one worried here is me.”<br />“Oh, I’m worried,” Mike interjected. “I’m worried you seem to be going through the same list too. Need I remind you that you also got arrested?”<br />“We appreciate all you do,” Wilma said, patting Rachel on the arm, “but you have to recognize you were not too… inspired when you started a brawl with the sheriff.”<br />“You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar,” Greta offered. <br />True. Although she was sure a ton of honey wouldn’t be enough to sweeten that sour-ass sheriff of theirs. <br />Disorderly conduct charges. Apparently to yell at a sheriff and threaten to cut his balls off was a punishable crime too. <br />“What exactly is a bucket list?” Rebecca asked, turning to her grandson.<br />“A to-do list before one kicks the bucket,” he explained. “Get a tattoo, try bungee jumping. Shit like that.”<br />The faces of the three ladies brightened.<br />“Not helping. At. All,” Rachel punctuated, cutting him short. <br />Greta’s eyes went big. “Oh, that’s a great idea. Not the jumping. The list.”<br />Both her friends nodded.<br />Mike seemed to have finally realized his mistake and tried to change the subject. “What were you doing at the old B&B?”<br />“We promised Audrey that we would go for a swim when the place reopened. She would have been so pleased to see her beloved business up and running again.” <br />“You could have waited until it actually reopened,” Mike suggested. “We would have avoided all this mess.”<br />“Audrey would have wanted it like this, I’m sure,” Wilma answered. <br />Rachel was sure too. Audrey had loved mayhem as much as her friends, or so she’d been told. “Well, it’s not Audrey dealing with the aftermath, it’s me, so no more shenanigans. Please. I’m already in the doghouse with the sheriff as it is, I don’t need any more trouble with him.”<br />Stickler for rules, the jackass.<br />In the first seven years she’d spent in Alden, she could count with the fingers of one hand how many times she’d talked with the old sheriff, a very accommodating, sweet man, but then her grandma and friends had decided to regress to their teens right about the same time the new sheriff had stepped in. Now, because of all their run-ins with the law, she had Adrian’s number on speed dial. And he had hers. She spoke with that jerk more often than she did with her mother. Well, not so much talking like a sane, balanced thirty-four-year-old would, but more so scolding and yelling like a nut. Or begging and apologizing, or everything all at once, depending on the situation. Which always had her at a disadvantage. <br />“Complain all you want about Adrian, but you were lucky he called me to bring clothes for the OGs; otherwise, they would have appeared in front of the judge in their bathrobes and impressive caps. That wouldn’t have helped your case either, Rach.” <br />True. Mike was not big on Twitter or social media. There was no chance he’d have seen their message in time.<br />“Are you coming with us to the gym?” Mike asked. “Today is Wednesday. Self-defense class. You could take out your frustrations on the guys.”<br />“No, thank you.” There were two self-defense classes at Haddican’s, the first one for seniors. She had already had enough of crazy grandmas for a day. How Mike could deal with them en masse, it was beyond her. If she’d have time, she would love to drop by Kyra’s dance studio, Alden’s Dance Factory, where Mike’s wife and Sara, Mike’s sister, held dance classes, but she was extremely busy today, not to mention, she wasn’t the most feminine person in the world. Pole dancing when you smell like petrol and your nails are dirty with motor grease? Not that sensual. “The boys are waiting for me in the garage, we’re swamped. Maybe another day.”<br />Wilma shook her head reprovingly. “You spend all your time in that garage of yours.”<br />“Cars don’t repair themselves, and they don’t talk back and argue, either,” she said, that last part in a barely audible mutter.<br />Her grandma ignored her completely. “How is it going with the dating service? Did you find any interesting candidates?”<br />Mike turned to Rachel; his brow pinched. “What dating service?”<br />“They signed me up for one of those dating apps,” she explained. “They faked my profile like you wouldn’t believe it.” By now, Mike’s frown had disappeared and he was laughing. Or so she thought, because he’d covered his face and his shoulders were shaking. Either he was laughing or crying. She had a good hunch which one of those it was.<br />“It’s what everyone does, honey,” her grandma justified herself. “They all exaggerate a bit.”<br />Rachel looked at Mike, whose face had resurfaced. Yep, laughing his ass off. “Exaggerate a bit? The only real thing on there is my name. You guys even uploaded a picture of me from ten years ago. I’m the youngest looking thirty-four-year-old in existence.”<br />“Correction. You’re twenty-nine,” Rebecca explained. “We heard thirty is the tomb for dating.”<br />Wilma assented. “Besides, what could we do? You’re always in the garage, with those greasy coveralls. We can’t upload a picture of you working under a car. It’ll scare the candidates.”<br />Why on earth Rachel had taught the OGs how to use their smartphones, she didn’t know. One thing was clear: she had no one to blame but herself.<br />“Results are what matter the most,” Greta decreed. “So, have there been any, honey?”<br />“Nothing promising yet,” Rachel muttered, “so don’t get your hopes up.”<br />She could tell them about the dates from hell she’d gotten from that app, but she feared the OGs weren’t ready for so much gruesome reality. Besides, they did mean well. It wasn’t their fault the world of dating was a cesspool.<br />“Now I’ve got to go,” she said, and, after kissing her grandmother, Rebecca, and Greta, she took off in the direction of her business, waving at Mike. “If they get into trouble, it’s on you. I’m off duty.”<br />She heard his chuckle and a ‘You got it,’ before turning the corner and entering the garage.<br />Rachel went straight to her office. She loved her grandma and the other OGs, but she was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to keep up with them and their shenanigans today. Man, and she thought she’d never step foot inside another cell or courtroom. Ha. Think again, Rach.<br />“So, boss, how did it go? You going to prison?” Rico asked, peeking out from the door, a smirk on his smudged face.<br />“Worse,” she said, dropping into a chair. “Community service. I have to teach mechanics to a bunch of juvenile delinquents.”<br />Rico looked at her and burst out laughing. “Is the judge trying to put you away for murder?”<br />Probably. Rachel wasn’t the most patient, most diplomatic person in the world. Far from it. Add a group of unruly teenagers to her garage and disaster was bound to happen. “All this is Adrian’s doing, I’m sure.” He was the one trying to reinsert the thugs back into society. Convicting her for murder was just an added bonus.<br />“The sheriff wants to keep them out of trouble,” Rico said.<br />“Why the heck doesn’t he take them in at his office to help? He’s always complaining about being short-staffed.” Rico gave her a duh-look and she sighed, resigned. “I know, I know. Those delinquents would burn down the police station, so we get them instead.”<br />“Look at it this way,” Rico offered. “They might not know how to repair a car, but stripping it bare and reselling the parts, they must have down pat. It’s a start.”<br /> </p><p><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
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</p><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-fareast-language: #00FF; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"></span>Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-87180307244567497742020-08-12T05:29:00.000-07:002020-08-12T05:29:00.324-07:00GREASE BABE (The OGs2) : COVER REVEAL AND PRE-ORDER LINK<p> Hello my lovelies, check out the cover for Grease Babe. Isn't it gorgeous? I know you've waited forever to read about the OGs, but fret no more: Grease Babe releases September 14th! <br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepJofOKzgnUpA74k4utyxGvLu9IK9j4LhGOGB0txQv1ztay5uepI53nMaChyphenhyphenhEGpGQnCgf_10bTiP9OWcKgzQ8J6z3bIjMSil6e4bU62d8Yusxykgg5du2lfVyIGVGWLVvTgWfCXgcIk/s2048/GreaseBabe+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1410" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepJofOKzgnUpA74k4utyxGvLu9IK9j4LhGOGB0txQv1ztay5uepI53nMaChyphenhyphenhEGpGQnCgf_10bTiP9OWcKgzQ8J6z3bIjMSil6e4bU62d8Yusxykgg5du2lfVyIGVGWLVvTgWfCXgcIk/s640/GreaseBabe+%25282%2529.jpg" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span id="freeText5936161237113478727">Alden is not only home
to the gorgeous Bowen brothers, but also to the OGs, three hilarious
octogenarian grandmas who believe age is nothing but a number. After
their success helping one grandchild find love, they’ve decided to move
on to the next. Nothing will stop them. Not even jail…<br /><br />Rachel’s
upbringing was rough, but at 34, she loves the life she’s built for
herself. She adores her grandmother, Alden, and her job as a mechanic.
Now, if her grandma and her friends would just stop getting into
trouble, everything would be perfect. She’s doing her best to keep them
on the straight and narrow, but she spends more time arguing with the
sheriff than working in her garage. Case in point the OGs’ latest stunt,
which got all of them, Rachel included, sentenced to community service.
So now she has to keep an eye on the crazy grannies and on the street
teenage thugs she’s been court-ordered to teach mechanics to.<br />And all thanks to the sheriff and that huge, unbendable stick up his ass.<br /> <br />Adrian
Skehan, a top-notch detective in Boston, enjoyed putting dangerous
criminals and drug kingpins behind bars. He loved his fast-paced,
glamorous city life, but after his estranged grandfather had a major
stroke, he moved to Alden, became the sheriff and now he spends his days
chasing after senior citizens and dealing with the OGs and Rachel, their obnoxious defender.<br />Terrific career move, really. Way to screw up his life. And his mental wellbeing.<br /><br />As
if life wasn’t hard enough, now the OGs have decided to work on their
bucket list… meaning the granddaughter and the sheriff must join forces
to survive the mayhem.<br />He likes his women… ivory-tower delicate. Not loud, highly opinionated and smelling of gasoline.<br />She likes her men… easy-going. Not arrogant know-it-alls and sticklers for rules.<br />Keeping these two together is a recipe for disaster. Too bad the OGs don’t see it that way.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span id="freeText5936161237113478727"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><span id="freeText5936161237113478727">Pre-order your copy from </span></b><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-1qd0xha r-ad9z0x r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0"><b>Amazon:</b> </span><a class="r-1n1174f r-1loqt21 r-1qd0xha r-ad9z0x r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0 css-4rbku5 css-18t94o4 css-901oao css-16my406" data-focusable="true" dir="ltr" href="https://t.co/KCI75PpOG1?amp=1" rel=" noopener noreferrer" role="link" target="_blank" title="https://amzn.to/3kAnXwf"><span aria-hidden="true" class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-1qd0xha r-hiw28u r-ad9z0x r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0"></span>amzn.to/3kAnXwf</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Add it in <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25852186-grease-babe" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> and <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/books/grease-babe-the-ogs-book-2-by-elle-aycart" target="_blank">BookBub</a> <span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-1qd0xha r-ad9z0x r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0">
</span><span class="r-18u37iz"></span> </div><p></p>Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-19270962316780059302020-05-28T07:44:00.000-07:002020-05-28T07:44:20.363-07:00STARTING POINT- First chapter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvXWIwt91Bd8SYHNkHpLjFPOf_YPdYTfvkFJaWMo-5gkvSMPozqjP_2KuF84Gf5vHUh3McifdhLNT8NAV7JDlC07wOzWFye1WJZl5ZzTd5jqWRALSQZ7FV3JwGBPFe4JIIrAm7Q65W7w/s1600/big+boi+skinny+glow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1247" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvXWIwt91Bd8SYHNkHpLjFPOf_YPdYTfvkFJaWMo-5gkvSMPozqjP_2KuF84Gf5vHUh3McifdhLNT8NAV7JDlC07wOzWFye1WJZl5ZzTd5jqWRALSQZ7FV3JwGBPFe4JIIrAm7Q65W7w/s320/big+boi+skinny+glow.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
<span style="color: white;">Starting Point, a prequel to the Doomsday Preppers series is going to be live on June 16th.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Here you have the first chapter. Enjoy!</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter 1</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Somewhere
in the north of Minnesota, outside a remote cabin, in the middle of winter… </span></i></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.1pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">All things considered, dying of exposure while
watching a star shower beat the hell out of kicking the bucket in a hospital,
staring at an IV drip. Being drunk also helped.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Gaze on the sky, Megan reached for the glass
of wine on the wooden table by her chair—and knocked over the almost-empty
bottle of chardonnay. Oops. She looked down, but whatever liquid it contained
had spilled already, leaving a dark splotch on the crisp white snow. Oh, well,
too bad. She was too drowsy to move. She knew she should be freezing—heck, she
probably was—but she couldn’t feel it. If anything, she felt warm and cozy. It
was the booze, undoubtedly. One could always count on booze to make things
better.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A pity she didn’t have a pen and paper handy.
She would have liked to say goodbye. That was the downside of accidental suicides:
no planning. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and nor could a dead woman walking.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Hlk508292289"></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk508292289;"></span>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She raised her glass to the sky. “To you,
Jess. I tried, girl. Crashed and burned, you might say. Make room up there, because
I’m coming.” She tossed back the remaining wine, liquid sloshing over her hand.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It had all been so innocent, so unintentional.
After turning off the lights in the rental cabin, she’d come out armed with a
quilt, a bottle of wine, and a glass, ready to watch the star shower. A shame
she hadn’t thought about taking the key too. Or her cellphone. Of course she’d
lock herself out of a totally isolated cabin in the middle of winter.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She was hallucinating already, because she
could see Jess’s reproving face staring down at her. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t give me
that look, sister. I did try. You saw me trying. That frigging cabin is impenetrable.”
</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She’d tried smashing out windows with a snow
brush, a rock—heck, even this Adirondack chair. Not a crack. The chimney was
too narrow to climb down, even for her. She’d been able to break out a car
window, but she had no clue how to hotwire the damn thing and there was nothing
in it that could help her anyway. She could have crawled into the trunk to
conserve heat for a little while, but she had no intention of dying huddled in a
trunk, missing the star shower. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I suppose I could try building an igloo,” she
mused to Jess’s apparition. “But who the fuck are we kidding? You know I was
never one for the National Geographic Channel. I wouldn’t know where to start.
So this is it. Deal with it. I have.” The closest town was too far away. She hadn’t
seen any other cabins driving up here, no neighbors to go for help. Even if she’d
manage not to get lost in the forest, a huge if at that, she’d never make it to
civilization on foot, so she’d resigned herself to the inevitable. When the
universe gave you lemons, right?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Never mind that the universe had been giving
her lemons all her life and she’d been guzzling down bitter lemonade nonstop. It
was time to show the universe the finger and use those damn lemons for downing tequila
shots. Figurative ones, that is.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She hadn’t had this in mind when she rented
the cabin. She’d come here to view two scheduled star showers in solitude and
comfort. The plan had been to move on afterward, make the most of the time she
had left for as long as she could. Apparently, destiny had other plans. The
story of her life.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">All and all, Minnesota was as good a spot as
any to bite the big one. She had very fond memories of this place, having spent
a great summer here eighteen years ago, when she was thirteen. And she loved
the cold. She’d rather die from that than the alternative, thank you very much.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Megan just felt sorry for the owner of the
cabin. What a shock it would be for the old lady when she came up and found her
tenant turned into a Popsicle. Hopefully the hefty deposit would cover her trouble.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">And Logan. She felt sorry for him too. Regretted
the way things had ended with her brother—the time apart, not even texting.
Death had one good side: it put everything else in perspective. She should have
kept her big mouth shut. He’d been happy living a lie. Who the heck was she to
intrude on that? </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She could still see Jess in the sky, shaking her
head. <i>“Try harder, damn it.”</i> Hey, auditory hallucinations too—rude ones at
that.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">There was no fooling her old friend. Jess knew
Megan had thrown in the towel. The impenetrable cabin was just a shortcut fate had
tossed in Megan’s lap. Crumbs, for which Megan was secretly happy. Jess disapproved,
clearly. Well, tough shit.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Her gaze strayed to the dark splotch in the snow.
Maybe she could have left a note written with wine on the snow. Nah, her
decision to drink the booze had been the right call. No one should be forced to
die totally sober. It was bad enough that she had to do it alone. Then again,
everyone died alone. With the difference that most couldn’t choose how and
ended up hooked to machines and drips. At the mercy of doctors and sedatives. She
was going out in style and on her own terms, something very few people got to
do. For this, she should be grateful, really. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">And her affairs were in order. Mostly. Her
brother would get a hell of a shock, her parents too, but that couldn’t be helped
now. And on the long run, they’d be better off. She’d already drained them
enough, emotionally and financially.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A momentarily pang for all she was going to
miss clenched her stomach. There was so much she hadn’t had time for. Normal,
everyday shit. Getting married. Having children. Living in a small town where
everyone got in your business. She and Jess had loved to watch TV shows about
small-town America. They’d dreamed about traveling the country and finding a
place.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">They hadn’t had time.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Jess had loved Korean dramas, and they had talked
about visiting Korea too. But now that Megan was alone, she wasn’t up for
living her last months in a faraway land, at the mercy of Google Translate. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Megan took a long, deep breath, the sharp cold
not hurting her throat anymore. She was ready for this. She’d made her peace
with the cards she’d been dealt. She hoped that wherever she ended up, there
was a muscular hunk to welcome her. Screw the white-bearded old man asking if
she’d been good. She wanted a ripped, well-hung stripper, tattooed up to the
eyeballs, rubbing against her and asking if she’d been naughty. She still hadn’t
identified which afterlife she should pray for to get that, but she was positive
God was a woman, so her chances seemed good.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She opened her wool jacket and kicked off the
quilt, feeling too hot. She would have liked to continue watching the star
shower, but her eyes were so heavy, she couldn’t keep them open. The wineglass
slipped from her numb fingers. The last thing she saw were two shooting stars dancing
in the forest.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Hlk37759480"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">*****</span></a></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk37759480;"></span>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Dead tired and cranky as hell, Alec was
driving home long after sunset when his cell beeped. Sean. He turned the hands-free
on. “Talk.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yo, how’d it go? I heard your message about
the hunting trip being cut short. Just checking you didn’t murder our clients
and bury them in the middle of the forest. Although if you did, I’ll totally understand.
Just send me the location and I’ll come with a shovel.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Ha. Ha. “Let’s set some things straight,
asshole: do you understand the concept of a </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">silent</span></i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> partner?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sean laughed. “One that doesn’t talk much? You,
for example.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Alec prayed for calm. “Do not overbook your little
expeditions ever again. Ever.” </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The punk was going to be the death of him. The
deal had been for Alec to be a silent partner, providing capital and dealing only
with survival training, not to cover Sean’s ass in hunting trips with obnoxious,
bored CEOs who wanted to play tough guy. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“That bad, huh?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Alec grunted. “Their constant bragging about
kills on other trips grated on my nerves like fuck. Thank God sleeping in the woods
grew old damn fast and they called it quits early.” </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Alec didn’t know how Sean put up with that crap.
In his place, Alec would have been sent to jail long ago. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“That’s weird.” Sean sounded confused. “They
normally carry super-duper state-of-the-art tents with all the comforts. Some
of them even have portable toilets.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, well. I took them deep into the forest.
No clearings big enough to put those atrocities up. If they wanted amenities,
they should’ve stayed at their hotel.” He had them shitting in the woods, hunting
at night with vision goggles, and getting only a couple of hours shut eye crouching
in the snow.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sean laughed. “Oh God. I better get the complaint
forms ready.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t give a shit.” Those assholes had no
respect for the life they were taking. “You know where I stand.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, yeah. Hunting is only acceptable as a means
of survival. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big, bad special forces dude—you
were never so tenderhearted about shooting humans.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Damn right. “Animals have never tried to shoot
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">me</span></i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sean ignored that. Like always. “You’re
driving on a logging road, by the sound of it. Why didn’t you stay at the hotel
in Grand Rapids? You could have rested a bit and then gone out to party. Fuck
some pretty thing. God knows they throw themselves at you all the time.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Not interested.” Neither was his dick. Hadn’t
been for a long while now. Meaningless sex was just exercise, a form of release
that wasn’t worth the awkward aftermath. Too much trouble. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It would had been tempting fate to spend any
more time near those jackasses than required. I’d have shot them.” He’d been about
to in the forest. Several times.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Good call then not staying. Cops tend to frown
upon murder. Future clients might too.” Sean’s voice turned a little more serious.
A little. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">At that moment Alec noticed one of the rental
cabins he managed was totally dark. One of the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">rented</span></i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> cabins. He frowned.
“You owe me more than one, punk. Almost home, talk to you later.” </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">There were no lights on anywhere on the property,
no smoke coming from the chimney, which was odd because Heather had told him a
city girl had picked up the keys that afternoon. He was running on fumes, and
the last thing he wanted was to smile and be polite and make small talk. Not
even the star shower filling the sky could keep his interest. Still, he navigated
a K-turn and drove up the hillside. He’d check that everything was in order and
take the chance to introduce himself to the new tenant. Heather had great
instincts about people, but she also had a soft heart and Alec liked to keep on
top of stuff just in case. Ensure everything run smooth and no one took advantage
of the old lady. He’d offered a million times to manage the online bookings,
but Heather had refused, and Alec knew better than to insist. Her stubbornness
was legendary, which had actually served her well. And him. If she hadn’t been
so hard-headed all those years ago, when Alec had first come to live with her,
she would have sent the angry teenager back into the system right away. She
wouldn’t have been the first, either. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Hopefully this would be a fast stop. In and
out. Minimum niceties. He had an overdue date with his bed, and his patience
was at a historical all-time minimum. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">As he approached the cabin, the headlights of
his truck illuminated a small bundle lying in a chair in the front yard, arm hanging
over the side. No gloves. What the fuck? There was a bottle in the snow—a glass
too. A quilt discarded nearby. Fantastic. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He cut the engine and got out of the cab. Had
the stupid city girl passed out in the cold, not even properly dressed? “Yo,
lady.” </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">No answer. No movement either. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The hair at his neck prickling, he broke into a
run. Shit, her lips were turning blue, and she was cool to the touch. “Wake up!”
he said, shaking her and patting her cheek.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Nothing.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Fuck.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He checked her pulse. Frail, but there. He had
to get her body temperature up, pronto. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Lifting her in his arms, he hurried to the porch.
The cabin was locked. Damn. Thank God he always carried the master key, because
he could kick this door to kingdom come and it would not give way. After some juggling
to retrieve the key, he got the cabin open. Leaving the woman on the sofa, he ran
to his truck, grabbed a Mylar blanket, and dashed back. The fire in the stone
hearth was all but extinguished, so he threw a log on to rekindle it. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She was still unresponsive. Waiting for the
fire to warm the place up was not an option, and her jeans and shirtsleeve were
soaked. He yanked the wet clothes off her—wool jacket, jeans, sweater—until she
was down to her underwear and a spaghetti-strap camisole, which were the only dry
garments. Peeking from the upper edge of the camisole was a beautiful dragon tattoo
that seemed to cover her chest. Her flat chest. This close, he couldn’t help noticing
the ravages of what looked like a double mastectomy. Breast cancer? The colorful
tattoo did a good job of drawing the eye, but the scars were there. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He wrapped the Mylar around her, took off his
coat and shirt, and hugged her, hoping his body heat would help raise hers. Fuck,
she was skinny. She might need warm intravenous fluids. If she didn’t come to soon,
he’d call reinforcements. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He lay on the sofa with her on top of him,
rubbing her arms and back. Keeping his cheek on her forehead, trying to assess
her temperature. He was always a degree or so hotter than an average person, so
in no time he was radiating heat like a furnace, and little by little her body warmed
up. He brushed a strand of platinum-blonde hair away from her face. Her lips
were no longer blue. Her pulse was stronger. Shit, that had been a close call. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">And like that, panic turned to anger. Stupid
woman. What the fuck had she been thinking? Damn Heather’s fondness for finding
renters through Craigslist. As if NoName needed more weirdos.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He thought about disentangling himself from
underneath her, but he was afraid that would wake her up. And if she woke up, angry
as he was now, he would read her the riot act at the top of his lungs, which would
freak her out. There was a good chance she would be too drunk to care, though. After
all, he couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or had passed out shitfaced. The latter,
probably. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Be that as it may, he’d already dealt with
enough city folks and their crap today. He could use a break. And some shut-eye
too. This sofa was the first soft surface he’d had under him in days. Not to
mention she was the first woman he’d had over him in a very long time—but he
shook that thought away. It had been an emergency. This was all about keeping
her alive.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Hlk35528997"></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk35528997;"></span>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He gave another glance at the woman softly
snoring on top of him. He touched her forehead again. Warm. She was going to be
fine. He could relax. And he might as well catch some Zs himself, because
exhaustion was catching up to him.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">*****</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sleeping, but
next time he opened his eyes, the sun was rising and the woman on top of him
was nuzzling his chest. She’d managed to disentangle herself from the blanket
and her little hands were feeling him up. Oh shit. So that was what had woken him.
He was being fondled. And his body liked it.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He cleared his throat. “You okay, lady?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">If she heard him, she didn’t bother answering.
She caressed his pecs and went back to nuzzling him. “Thank you, Great Goddess.
Thank you. You nailed it. Down to the tattoos.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Crap. His hard-on was getting bigger by the
second. Now the motherfucker was interested. Being groped by a half-conscious woman
was the most action he’d had in ages. Such a testament to his sex life. “You
okay?” he repeated, his voice barely there.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I am now,” she whispered, her tongue flickering
too close to his nipple. “Can we skip the nickel tour of heaven? I’ve got all I
ever prayed for right here.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Alec wasn’t one for nickel tours either. He was
also too much of a gentleman to take advantage of a confused woman. But he
couldn’t help asking, “All you ever prayed for?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She nodded, her sweet mouth moving up to his
throat, the tips of her hair tickling his skin. Man, she smelled so good, even
after getting shitfaced. Go figure. Her forehead touched his chin and she let
out a moan. “Stubble. Love stubble burns. On my face. On my thighs.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Holy crap. He closed his eyes, trying to get
the situation under control. Fighting to get words out. Nothing came.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Her lips brushed over his stubble. When he
opened his eyes, he saw hers. They were smoky gray. Opaque. With unbelievably thick
eyelashes. He hadn’t seen such striking eyes in twenty years. Since… </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He froze. “Meg?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She ignored his question and looked around, seemingly
surprised by her surroundings. A frown formed on her face. She blinked several
times and then, as if something had dawned on her, she wrenched away with a
surprised yell, covering herself with the blanket. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Alec lifted his arms, trying to look harmless.
It wasn’t easy. After all, he had over a hundred pounds on her and was almost
naked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She glanced around again, confusion clouding
her beautiful eyes. Yes, she was Megan. No doubt about it. He’d recognize those
eyes anywhere. Although last time he’d seen her, she’d been a chubby thirteen-year-old
with a sweet, if bossy, disposition. She’d had sparkles in her gaze, dimples in
her knees, and curls in her long hair. This Megan was skinny as hell. Her face
was angular, and her straight, short hair didn’t reach her shoulders. Oh, and
there was no sweet disposition to be found anywhere. “What…”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You passed out and were freezing. I brought
you in.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Again, she didn’t acknowledge his words. “I’m
still here,” she whispered as if to herself.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Where the hell did she expect to be?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Shit, it was so perfect,” she mumbled, ignoring
his presence and burrowing into the blanket. “Cosmically perfect.” She looked
up to the ceiling. “Why are you fucking with me? Can you please get another
punching bag, thank you very much? And you”—she pointed at a corner of the
ceiling—“stop laughing. Not funny.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She was not making any sense. Then again, one
of the symptoms of hypothermia was confusion. “You were freezing to death,” he explained,
trying to calm her down. “If I hadn’t been passing by—”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She snorted, standing up. She wobbled, then
grabbed the back of the couch and stood straight. Sweet little Meg had apparently
grown to be a woman who wouldn’t appreciate him reaching over to steady her. She
was still bossy, though. “Right. God save us from good Samaritans.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What?” Now he was the one who didn’t understand
squat.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She moved aside the armhole of her camisole,
by her heart, revealing a DNR inscription over the swirling dragon tattoo. “Do not
resuscitate, Mountain Man. Don’t you know how to read?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh. She hadn’t been confused. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Not confused at all.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He stood up and crossed his arms. Fuck trying not
to look intimidating. “I was too busy saving your butt, sorry. And for the record,
I didn’t resuscitate you. I just groped you until you warmed up.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who asked you to? Ever heard of minding your
own business?” </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You weren’t complaining while you were
groping me back. Besides, a death on a property I run is my business.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m alive,” she said, shoving his jacket at
him and pushing him to the door. “Unfortunate accident averted. Won’t happen
again. Bye.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He was pissed. More than that, he was stunned.
There was no other way to explain how such a tiny woman managed to push him out
of the cabin.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">After she slammed the door in his face, he
realized the master key was still inside. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She’d locked him out.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: white;">Rough, unedited, version subject to change </span></span></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter
1</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Somewhere
in the back of beyond, Minnesota</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">SOS. Car broke down. Stuck in snowstorm. Check my location and alert
troopers.</span></i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sky Gonzalez pressed Send and threw her cell
in the air as high as she could. There was nothing but trees and snow around,
no cell coverage to be had where she was standing. Maybe another six feet up,
the situation was different. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She caught the phone on its way down. Checked
the screen. Nope. Jesus Christ, the whole country was infested with butt-ugly,
fake-tree cell towers, and she had to get lost in a place where all the damn trees
were real. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Turning against the gusts of wind and brushing
flakes away from her face, she gave it another go, tossing as far as she dared.
Which wasn’t far, really, because she wasn’t the most coordinated person in the
world. If she dropped the phone and it smashed into a million
pieces, or she lost sight of where it landed, that was it for her last lifeline
to the outside world. She’d never find her cute, sparkly cell again—slick
and thin <i>and</i> white. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">In hindsight, going for that color had been a
very poor decision. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Still no dice. Squinting, she tossed the
device up again. Hopefully her message would eventually go through, and Lola would
contact the authorities. After all, it was Lola’s fault Sky was in this bind. Of
all the crazy shit her sister had pulled over the years, this stunt trumped
every one of them. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Every. Single. One.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She caught her cell a third time. Nothing.
Well, practice made perfect, right? Besides, she didn’t have much else to do except
throw that stupid phone into the sky and continue walking. The road must lead
somewhere. Sooner or later she’d arrive there. Or she’d get lucky and her cell
would catch a signal. Or she’d freeze to death and become a cautionary tale to
stupid girls. Whatever came first. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She looked back to where her car was being
buried under a steady fall of big flakes. Steam was still coming from the hood.
How a car could overheat in the middle of a snowstorm, she didn’t know. That
annoying little red light on the dashboard that had flashed at her for the last
twenty miles might have had something to do with it. Not that she could have done
shit about it, seeing as the last person she’d crossed paths with was at a gas
station a hundred miles away. Or so. She wasn’t great at calculating distances
or reading maps. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Orienting herself wasn’t one of her fortes
either, evidenced by the embarrassing fact that her destination should only have
been about fifteen miles from the regional airport and she’d still managed to
miss it. She’d tried backtracking, but she’d only succeeded in getting more
lost. And that was hours ago. The car’s GPS had stopped working right after she
left the airport, and her cell had been without a steady signal for a long while
before the car itself died. For all she knew, she’d crossed state lines. Heck,
she might be in Canada. Or in frigging Alaska. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Great way to kick off the New Year. Best first
of January ever.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Eyes on her airborne cell, she tripped and
fell flat on her face, the useless device landing on the back of her head. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Coordinate colors? Forecast fashion trends? Put
together a knockout outfit from a thrift shop? All that she could do, no
problem. But apparently, throwing an object up in a straight line and catching
it on the fly were not in her skill set. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Aggravated, she got up, patted the snow from
her pants, and burrowed her hands under her jacket. The wind wasn’t too strong,
but the constant bee stings of flakes on her skin, along with her shitty
clothes, made her feel like she was freezing.</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The extremely fashionable hand-me-downs from her boss were not designed
for off-road snow trudging. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Then again, she should have been strolling
around Paris’s Golden Triangle of luxury boutiques and haute couture labels. Or
sitting in a cute little café, watching the sun set over the Champs Elysées,
enjoying the mild chill of the French winter—which this year was supposed to be
warmer than usual—sipping red wine, and munching on a baguette slathered in gooey
cheese. For <i>that</i>, she was perfectly dressed. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Thank God she’d gotten that ridiculous white
bunny-ear hat at the airport, ugly as it was, and the white bunny-paw mittens.
The snowstorm must have caught other travelers off guard, because those had
been the only winter garments in the tiny store. High heels and a bunny hat. Hell
of a fashion statement. On the plus side, she was color coordinated down to her
underwear. White pants. White jacket. White boots. White hat.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She should have stayed in the broken car. No
heat and a cramped space were a thousand times preferable to walking in the
open, but she was so tired, she couldn’t afford to sit idle. She’d fall asleep
in a second and wake up a Popsicle. Or, more to the point, not wake up at all. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">That she’d been awake thirty hours and
counting wasn’t helping. But why would she have wasted her last night in New
York City sleeping when she thought she had a transatlantic flight ahead of
her? Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Sky was infamous for drifting off in
the weirdest places and the most impossible positions. Tourist class, no leg room,
screaming babies? Bring it on. Heck, once she’d zonked out in a jumper seat and
snored there for hours, back in the day when she flew standby, courtesy of a
friend’s industry-discount tickets. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Looking forward to a cozy nap in coach, she’d gone
partying with friends instead of resting—<i>and</i> checking her flight details.
Now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, sleep-deprived, knee-deep in snow, freezing
her butt off, and probably catching the mother of all flus.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Minnesota. Where the heck was Minnesota? She
was an East Coast person through and through. She hadn’t been this far west
since that time she took the wrong train and ended up in Newark. That had been
traumatic enough, thank you very much.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She glanced around. It was beautiful, though.
Perfect snowflakes poured out of the sky, blanketing the whole landscape in
white. Very… Christmassy. Too bad it wasn’t Christmas, and she was lost, alone,
and irremediably soaked. Her hair and makeup were ruined. And let’s not talk
about her brand-new manicure. Hansel and Gretel dropped bread crumbs. Her? She
was dropping fake nails all over the place. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Damn the countryside. Not a single soul around
to ask for directions. Where were aggressive taxi drivers when one needed them?
Rude walkers, honking cars, hotdog vendors, a Starbucks on every corner—there was
nothing like that here. No landmarks she would recognize. Just snow, trees, and
a back road, poorly delineated and with worse signage, all of it getting
fuzzier by the second. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">And that was the view in the middle of the
day. She shuddered to think how all this would look when it started getting
dark. Were there wolves in Minnesota? Bears? Because if her high-heeled boots were
shit walking in the snow, just wait until she had to climb a tree.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sky was about to toss the cell up again, but she
stopped. Sighed. Who was she kidding? She’d need a rocket launcher to make it
past the treetops. She might as well put her phone to better use before the
battery died or it got buried in the snow, <i>Fargo</i> style, until the end of
time. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She pressed the recording function and started
talking. “This is the last will and testament of Sky Gonzalez. This message is
addressed to my sister Lola. I leave you, Lola, all my belongings, which you’ll
find in a car buried under a ton of snow somewhere in the middle of Minnesota,
where <i>you </i>sent me!” she yelled into the device. “Know that I blame you
for everything, and I will haunt you from the afterlife for freaking <i>ever</i>!
You’ll never have a good night’s sleep, I <i>guarantee</i> you. Damn your
presbyopia! Yes, you’ve hit forty. Yes, you need glasses. <i>Own</i> it, for
Christ’s sake!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Screaming seemed to help, marginally. To vent
her frustration, if nothing else. She knew she shouldn’t be mad at Lola. After
all, it wasn’t completely her sister’s fault. Never mind how busy she’d been, Sky
should not have asked her sister to fill out her application for the semester-abroad
program. At the very least, she should have suspected something was fishy when
the secretary in the placement department had been so glad about Sky’s choice
of location, she not only arranged the flight for her, but also informed her
that the position came with a voucher for a car rental. Big red flag if Sky
ever saw one.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I don’t need a car,” she’d told the woman. Why
would she? Public transportation was a far better option in European cities.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The secretary
had sounded confused. “Uhh, believe me, you’ll need a car. Any preferences?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494630036;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">In all her years</span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> as a
part-time undergrad at that school, taking classes here and there whenever she
could afford it, Sky had never heard the old hag be so nice to anyone. So she
went for broke. “Okay, if I can choose, a cute little Mini would work.” Driving
in style trumped trunk space any day. Besides, parking would be at a premium in
Paris.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“A <i>what</i>?” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She’d gone too far. “If it’s too much, I can—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“No, no,” the secretary had hurried to interrupt.
“It will be arranged.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Probably she’d thought Sky was going to pull
her application if she didn’t get her preferred car. Which she would have. In a
heartbeat. Not because of the car, but because she had thought she was going to
Paris, France. Not Paris, Minnesota. Who in her right mind would choose an
internship in Minnesota when Europe was available?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sky Gonzalez, apparently.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Entering the semester-abroad program had been an
ill-omened idea. She should have accepted her destiny as an eternal student and
sales clerk turned personal shopper’s assistant. Dressing in castoffs from her
boss and living vicariously through others people’s pics on Instagram. Making ends
meet, a big smile on her face, happy and satisfied with her lot. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">But traveling to Europe in the hopes of becoming
a buyer for a classy continental retailer? Not in the cards for a Gonzalez.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sky blew warm air over her frozen fingers. Manipulating
her cell with the mittens had been a no-go, so she’d stashed them in her jacket.
Time to fish them out, or she was going to lose more than her nails. Rummaging
in her pockets produced only one mitten. Oh, shit. She must have dropped the
other one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fantastic. Getting better and
better. Her teeth were chattering. The storm didn’t look like it was lightening
up anytime soon, so she put on the one mitten and picked up her speed. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She pressed Record again and spoke into the
phone. “I left Arnie at the dog hotel, so you are getting your sorry ass over
there and picking him up, Lola. To hell with your allergies.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Arnie hated it there. Ungrateful mutt. Much as
it pained Sky, she couldn’t take him with her overseas. She’d dished out an
indecent amount of money, money she couldn’t afford, to that first-class kennel,
and he’d looked at her as if she were dumping him into the pound. “If I freeze
to death… which at this stage is a very strong possibility, because the
clattering sound you’re hearing is my teeth… I expect you to care for him. The
expensive doggie treats he likes. His massage and spa days. The whole shebang, Lola.
Do not cut corners with my baby. You owe me.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">When Sky stopped yelling into the phone, she
realized the screeching she was hearing wasn’t coming from her. It sounded like
brakes locking. She turned around in time to see the shiny grill of a black monster
truck barreling her way. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Her eyes opened wide. Holy shit. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It was a damn good thing she couldn’t feel
half her body anymore, because this was sooo going to hurt.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">****</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The second that Logan saw a flash of long red
hair and something resembling human eyes, he wrenched the wheel, sending the truck
spinning to the shoulder, barely missing the tiny figure in the middle of the
road. Jesus Christ. Who in her right mind wore white from head to toe in a
blizzard? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The truck screeched to a halt, the passenger
side a mere half an inch from the woman. He jumped down and ran around the
front. She had fallen to the ground. Fuck, had he hit her? “You okay?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You… almost… ran… me… over,” she said, her
teeth chattering. From fear or cold, he couldn’t tell. Well, he could. It had
to be cold. Her clothes were flimsy at best. Flashy, but not warm at all.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Are you crazy? Standing in the middle of the road,
all in white? I could have killed you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He saw a gleam of defiance in her eyes. “White’s…
trendy… this… year.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Right. “There’s nothing ‘trendy’ in this part
of Minnesota, lady. Where’s your car?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“There.” She pointed in the direction Logan
had come from. “Or there,” she corrected herself, pointing in the opposite
direction. “Not sure now. It all looks… white.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">No shit.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He tried to help her stand, but her legs
buckled, so he lifted her in his arms. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, shall we?”
After placing her on the passenger seat, he cranked up the heat.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Can’t leave… without… my bags.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He stepped outside and scouted the ground a
little. Her footsteps indicated she’d been walking in the same direction he’d
been driving, which meant he must have passed her vehicle and missed it. “What
car are you driving?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She sneezed, the useless synthetic-fur hood on
her jacket flopping over her bunny-eared head. Out of the whole stupid outfit,
that bunny-eared hat was the most sensible piece. “A Mini.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Great. Wherever she’d left the car, it was
probably buried now.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“We’ll come back for it tomorrow,” he decided,
jumping back in and revving up the engine.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“My Manolos are in there.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Manolos. Oh, boy, wasn’t that a blast from the
past? Another shoe whore. Just what he needed. “They’ll still be here tomorrow,
believe me.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She was going to object, but a sudden sneeze
derailed her. And another and another. He opened the glove compartment, took out
a wad of napkins, and offered it to her. “Why did you leave the car?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Stopped working,” she answered, grabbing a napkin
and wiping her nose. “And when I began walking… it wasn’t snowing so much.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You aren’t from anywhere around here, are
you?” Her dumb clothes were a dead giveaway. Her actions too.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She shook her head, placing her hands in front
of the air vent. “New York City.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It figured.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She narrowed her dark eyes on him. “Why?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The heat had kicked in. She must have finally
felt it, because her teeth weren’t chattering as hard. She was even getting
some color back in her face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He looked resolutely forward and edged the
truck into motion. “For your information—next time you decide to take a stroll
in the Minnesota countryside, you need better shoes. And clothes. You don’t
assume the weather conditions will improve. And you never leave your vehicle. Ever.
Under any circumstances. You don’t stand in the middle of the road without wearing
reflectors. And—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A sudden move from the passenger side caught
his attention. He gave her a quick glance and saw, flabbergasted, that her head
had lolled to the side. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Lady, you okay?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A light snore was all the answer he got.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“And you don’t get into a stranger’s ride and
proceed to check out,” he muttered. Jesus fucking Christ. Talk about a lack of
common sense.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span></b></span>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter 2</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sky woke up enveloped in softness and toasty warmth.
She stretched luxuriously. Wow, she hadn’t slept that well in tourist class
since frigging ever. No cramps, no sore neck, plenty of leg room. Silence all around
her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Then the fogginess in her head cleared and it all
came back to her. Slowly at first, tumbling and rushing after that. Minnesota,
the snowstorm, the truck barreling in her direction, her screwed-up plans. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She wasn’t in a plane on her way to France.
She was on a couch in somebody’s living room.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fuck. Shit. Crap. You’re so dead, Lola!” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A hearty laugh caught her by surprise.
“Sleeping Beauty is finally awake. And she’s got a mouth on her.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She turned toward the voice to find a mountain
of a man leaning against the wall, looking pretty amused. He must have just
come from the outside, because he still had on his jacket and a wool watch cap.
Between that and the beard, she couldn’t see much of his face except the big
green eyes staring at her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to get up. “I
didn’t mean to—” She wasn’t sure what she hadn’t meant to, but the unstoppable
itch in her nose wouldn’t be denied, and she choked out a sneeze. Then another
and another. “Sorry,” she managed to let out. “Serial sneezer.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Here,” he said, handing her a tissue.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She took it and blew her nose. “Thanks. You’re
the guy who almost ran me over, aren’t you?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He pulled off the watch cap, freeing a dark
mop of shaggy hair. “Guilty as charged. In my defense, though, you were
perfectly camouflaged.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Wow, the mountain man was handsome, in a rough,
unkempt sort of way. He had lines of laughter around his eyes, very visible
because the skin there was white and the rest of his face was deeply tanned. An
outdoor tan, not a fake bake. It suited him. Most men she knew would have
bathed in moisturizer or gone under the knife to make those lines less
noticeable. Then again, most men she knew would have had a heart attack if they
woke and found that out-of-control beard on their faces.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">If this guy was anything to go by, then
metrosexual didn’t seem to be a big thing around here. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“That I was.” She looked out the window. It
was bright out there. Morning bright. “Seems like I dozed off.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">His chuckle was irritatingly male. “More like
passed out. I carried you in and you didn’t stir, not even once. It’s been
almost twelve hours since then.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Twelve hours? She looked down at herself. She
was still dressed, a quilt covering her. No jacket.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He must have read her mind. “Your jacket was
soaked. Heads up: in Minnesota, you do need a real, waterproof coat. Your pants
and sweater were wet too, but I figured you might object to waking up in a
stranger’s house and wearing only your underwear.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Object? She would have totally freaked. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thanks for helping me out there.” She offered
her hand. “Sky Gonzalez.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He sat beside her and engulfed her hand in his.
“Logan Nolting. You’re welcome.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The sofa sank under his weight. Wow, Mr.
Mountain Man was huge, with broad shoulders and bulging arms. The manspreading
didn’t help either.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">This close, she realized his eyes weren’t just
green, but yellow and blue and brown. As if whoever had put him together
couldn’t make up their mind. This guy was handsome. Well, the part she could
see, because the shaggy hair and Duck Dynasty beard covered most of his face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sky broke the
contact and looked away, noticing her bags off to the side. “You found my car.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk499934016;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He nodded. “In a ditch, covered by snow. </span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh, and this.” He reached inside his pocket and
handed her her missing mitten. “It was right there, by the door. Paw-print
facing the snow.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Of course it was,” she muttered, chagrined.
“Damn Murphy’s Law.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Murphy’s Law is a bitch on the best of days.
There’s no need to help it along and make matters worse.” She didn’t care for
his tone, but before she could comment on that, he continued. “What on earth
compelled you to rent a city car like that in the middle of a Minnesota blizzard?
And a <i>white</i> car on top of that?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She didn’t have a good answer. Nothing that
would make the level of condescension in his voice diminish, anyway. By the
time she landed in Minnesota and tried to change her rental to an SUV, it had
been too late. There were none available. Guess she had
to count her blessings that she hadn’t gone for a cute little electric car with
an eighty-mile driving range. She shuddered to think what Mr. Monster Truck
would have said about that.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I nearly had to call the rental company and
ask them for a GPS location,” he said. “It was that or wait for the spring
thaw.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“How did you know it was a rental?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nobody in their right mind would buy a Mini in
rural Minnesota. Nobody. You didn’t strike me as a nutjob.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, well. I wouldn’t bet on that. I better
contact the rental company.” She reached down to the sofa table, where her cell
and purse lay. “No signal. Color me surprised.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“The whole town is located in between towers,
in a protected zone. Reception is sketchy at best, unless you have a satellite
phone. The landline is out too because of the storm. A tree fell and took out a
telephone pole.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“No internet?” she asked, already panicking.
She hadn’t been without internet since… ever, really. She wasn’t sure she could
survive.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He shook his head, as if it weren’t that big a
thing. “You don’t need to worry about your car. We already had it towed into town.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where exactly are we? What’s the name of this
town?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan snorted. “Good question. Can’t tell
you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What do you mean?” she asked, stiffening.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“The residents developed a strong objection to
the town’s original name, so they voted to change it. But they can’t decide on a
new one.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fantastic.
So I’m stuck in…”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494637518;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“NoName, Minnesota,” he filled in. “It’s kind of temporary.”</span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I guess that’s that for calling an Uber.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes—not
that the locals would jump into strangers’ cars. So, who’s Lola and why is she
dead?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“My sister.
Long story. Wouldn’t want to bore you. What’s the closest city? Or the next
town? Does it have a name?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk496522962;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I don’t know what you’d consider a city. Paris is down Route 65 about
half an hour. Turn right and you’ll wind up in Grand Rapids. Where were you
going?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk496522962;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She hadn’t been that lost. “New job in Paris.”</span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Your car will be out of commission for a
while. How soon are you starting? We’re snowed in, but once the main roads are
clear, I can drive you to Paris.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thanks, but my job isn’t starting for another
three weeks. I came ahead of time to do some sightseeing.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan stared at her. “I’m sorry to be the one
to break it to you, but any sightseeing in Paris can be done in five minutes.
Maybe less.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I know. Now. When I made my travel plans, I
thought I was going to Paris, France. Not Paris, frigging Minnesota.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan opened his eyes wide, a smirk emerging
from under his facial hair. “You’re shitting me, right?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nope. School arranged for the plane ticket
and the car rental. As far as I knew, I had applied to be a student teacher of
English in Europe. I discovered my mistake at the airport, when my flight
wasn’t taking off from the international terminal.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“So that’s why your sister is going to die?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“A long, agonizing death, I assure you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I guess you don’t have a place to stay
either.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“In Paris, France, I did. In Paris, Minnesota,
I don’t.” She had maxed out her credit cards paying for the cute European hotel
she’d planned to stay at for the three weeks before her internship started. Her
savings had gone to buying euros and paying for Arnie’s boarding. “But don’t
worry. If you let me make a call once the landline is repaired, I’ll contact
the rental agency and be out of your way in no—” She held her breath, reached for
a tissue from the box, and sneezed again. “—time.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“There’s no hurry. The roads are blocked.
Better to sit this one out.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">At her first chance, she was going to get her
hands on a working phone and contact her school. There had to be a way to
change her application, damn it. If she had to stay in the US, then she could
do so in a major city, not some backwater where they didn’t even have internet.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">At that moment the doorbell rang.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Excuse me.” She lost sight of Logan as he
went to open the door. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Good morning,” said a woman’s voice.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hi, Carol, what can I do for you?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Plastic rustling. “This is for you,
Alchemist.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thanks.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Say, I heard you had Bart tow some weird car
into town. Where’s the owner?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“She’s resting. The car got stuck—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“She? You have a ‘she’ here?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I don’t think now’s the time—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Whatever he thought, it was irrelevant,
because a middle-aged woman peeked through the doorway from the hall. She
smiled widely and walked toward Sky. “Hello, I’m Carol McGowan. The neighbor.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan was behind her, looking aggravated and
holding a white plastic bag, tightly knotted.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sky.” Unable to repress it, she let out a
sneeze and the guest stopped dead in her tracks. “Sorry,” Sky mumbled, mopping
her nose. “Got a nasty bug on my way here.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh, boy,” Logan muttered.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Carol took a step backward, then another, an
expression akin to terror on her face. “I remember now. I forgot something in the
oven. Gotta go. Nice to meet you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Their guest left in a hurry.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What was that?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan shrugged, leaving the white plastic bag
on the table and taking off his jacket. “Nosy people being nosy. Don’t mind
her.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Did she call you ‘Alchemist’?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nosy people being nosy <i>and</i> nuts. You
okay?” he asked as she sneezed again. “You look flushed.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I think I have a fever.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He leaned close and touched her forehead,
pinning her down with his gorgeous and worried stare. If her temperature hadn’t
been high before, it was now. It had skyrocketed at the contact, so much that
she could almost forget about the shaggy hair and Unabomber beard. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Almost.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">His clothes—ratty jeans and a black T-shirt—weren’t
much better. A fashion statement, this guy wasn’t. Such a pity, because the
frame was spectacular. Great eye candy.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes, you do,” he assented, totally oblivious
to her lecherous thoughts. “Let me get you something for that.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She must be delirious, because she was ogling
his ass. Fine as that ass might be, it was attached to a whole lot of failed hipster
look she totally hated.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">As he came back with a thermometer and an
aspirin bottle, his cell beeped.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hey, why does your phone work?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Satellite.” He checked the message and said
resignedly, “That was fast.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What was fast?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Emergency town council meeting.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">****</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494639268;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The
mayor scowled down from the podium. The pandemic squad surrounded him, standing
in judgment. </span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494639268;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What the hell were you thinking, Alchemist? Bringing
a potential patient zero into town!”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494639268;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan looked up at the ceiling of the council room, praying for
patience. He could feel the eyes of every adult resident of NoName focused squarely
on him. Of all the towns in America, why oh why did he have to end up in one
run by crazy preppers? As if that weren’t bad enough, he had to live next door to
Carol McGowan, head cheerleader of the frigging pandemic squad, a bunch of
relentless wackos who believed the world was one influenza away from total
extinction. Sky could have waved an automatic rifle and Carol wouldn’t have
blinked, but a sneeze? Ha! That had sent the lady running so fast, it was a
fucking miracle his property wasn’t cordoned off. Then again, the day was
young. Lots of shit could still go down.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494639268;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What would you have me do?” he asked, standing and addressing the
crowd. “I couldn’t let her freeze to death.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494639268;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Carol tsked him. “Who’s talking about letting her freeze to death?
Maybe point her in the right direction? Away from here?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk494639268;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“She was freezing,” he repeated. “She had no means of getting anywhere.
No way of sitting out the weather either.”</span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What do you mean? Didn’t she have a bug-out
bag?” At his shake of the head, Carol lifted her arms in dismay. “Who goes on
the road without one of those?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh, I don’t know,” Logan muttered under his
breath. “Normal people?” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Damn doomsday preppers.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Ty, sitting beside him, leaned closer. “I
should’ve figured all this fuss was because of you. What’s going on?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What’s going on? These crazy people are up in
arms because of a fucking sneeze.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Tyler barked out a laugh. “What did you do now
to get these nice ladies’ panties in a twist?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Nice ladies? The pandemic squadron was a bunch
of innocent-looking women who were nothing short of radical lunatics, ready to
invade your house at the drop of a hat to demonstrate, whether you liked it or
not, how to survive the end of civilization by boiling, sterilizing, and
isolating. And God forbid you didn’t listen.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The first time he’d met his lovely neighbors,
they’d been running a drill while wearing hazmat suits. He’d committed the
ultimate offense and offered them his hand in greeting. Apparently, a hand had
more germs on it than a toilet seat. They shoved a pandemic-preparedness kit at
him and ordered him to glove himself before contact.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Such a pity no one had photographed his facial
expression upon hearing those words. It had been epic. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">After the shock wore off, he’d questioned how
his germs could make it through their hazmat suits even if he didn’t wear
gloves. Second fatal mistake. Almost two years of drills later, he still didn’t
know how their theories of transmission worked, but he’d learned not to
question. Faster that way.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You understand we have to quarantine her, don’t
you?” Carol said, interrupting his thoughts.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Like that was going to go down well with Sky. She
seemed like a very independent, capable woman. Hooked on being connected and on
the go all the time. Flashy and dressed to show.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He’d known his share of those. Dancing to others’
tunes wasn’t something they tended to excel at.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Ty frowned. “Whom exactly are we
quarantining?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Logan found a sick lady and brought her
home,” somebody whispered behind them.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I see,” Ty said, amused, and turned to Logan.
“What? Can’t convince healthy chicks to go home with you, so now you’re
kidnapping unhealthy ones?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“She was healthy when I met her, you ass.
Well, mostly, but that’s beside the point.” Logan addressed the pandemic squad
up on the platform. “Sorry to break it to you. This is a free country. You
can’t go quarantining people at will.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Wrong. Exactly because this is a free country,
we can.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">There were some mumbles of agreement from the
crowd, “That’s right” and “You got it” and “Try to stop us.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“We live in a democracy. Let’s take a vote,” Carol
suggested. “All in favor of quarantining Patient Zero, please raise your
hands.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Everyone, including a smirking Ty, raised
their hands.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh, come on,” Logan grumbled. “Really? You
serious?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Motion accepted,” Carol said, wrestling the gavel
from the mayor and banging it on the podium. “Besides, Patient Zero doesn’t
have to know she’s been quarantined. Just keep her indoors by any means
necessary until she gets better.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Or she kicks the bucket,” somebody chimed in.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Nuts. The whole bunch of them. Down to the very
last one.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“She’s not Patient Zero, people. Her name is
Sky and she’s got the flu, damn it. Not Ebola. Just a common, garden-variety
flu.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“By our calculations, Patient Zero has been
here almost twenty-four hours. We’re late on containment,” Carol said.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan shook his head in dismay. Man, like
talking to a wall.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You had her hidden away for a whole day?” Ty
asked impishly.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“She was just sleeping on my sofa.” Logan
realized his mistake right away and turned to Carol and the rest. “You are <i>not</i>
burning my sofa. Are we clear?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Whether it was clear or not, Logan didn’t
know, because Carol ignored his words. “And we’ll be monitoring you,” she added
while the rest nodded. “At the slightest indication you’re sick—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, yeah, you’ll quarantine me too, and if
I don’t get better fast enough, you’ll shoot me and cremate my remains.” Along
with the damn couch, of course.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Carol rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, don’t be silly,” someone interjected. “We’ll
autopsy you before that. Dissect you into tiny pieces.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Jesus fucking Christ. Why couldn’t his neighbors
have been the gearheads prepping for solar flares that would fry the grid? More
kumbaya. Less ready to dissect.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“This is all your fault, Megan,” he said to
his sister, who was sitting two rows behind him. “Couldn’t you have moved somewhere
else? A normal fucking place?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She just laughed. “You heard the lady. Keep Patient
Zero indoors—by any means necessary.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ha. Ha.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What? Skills too rusty to keep a woman indoors?”
she asked.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I can help,” Ty added. “Is she pretty?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Gorgeous, actually. Big,
dark eyes. Olive-colored skin. Delicate features. But that was beside the
point too.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fuck off, both of you,” Logan muttered. Raising
his voice, he addressed the crowd again. “You’re certifiable. All of you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I totally agree,” Carol said. “We give you
far too much leeway. Look at how flexible we’ve been about your toxic
contaminants.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Toxic contaminants? For the love of God.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, and all the unmarked vans coming and
going,” someone else added. “We like living off the radar. That much movement draws
attention.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Not to mention your interns, who are a grave
security risk,” Carol said.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan frowned. “What are you saying? That my crew
is a security risk because they’re foreigners?” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Not because they’re foreigners, but because
we don’t know them,” Carol scolded. “You know we don’t discriminate. For us, <i>every</i>
person is a possible security threat, regardless of race, religion, or
nationality.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">That was true. Preppers didn’t discriminate.
They treated everyone according to the same crazy standards.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Why did Megan have to find the love of her
life in this godforsaken town? Too bad that in his quest to save the world and
keep his sister close by, he hadn’t stopped to think before following her and setting
up shop. For such an innovative project, raising funds and international
awareness were very important. Thanks to these tinfoil wackos, recruiting interns
who wouldn’t run for the hills by the second day was becoming more and more difficult.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“These people see our modus operandi and they talk.
We don’t know who they talk to. They could even be taking pics for the
government.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">More murmurs.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Which government? Ours or theirs?” Logan
asked jokingly.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Both, probably,” someone said.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Even more murmurs.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">This was so ridiculous.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sure. I’m teaching them to build dirty bombs in
my top-secret lab. What is this? Am I the only topic on the list today?”
Because it seemed to him like a waste of everybody’s time to call an emergency
town meeting for a couple of sneezes. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">That Sky had a fever of 102 degrees, he was
keeping to himself. Otherwise this crowd would skip the quarantine and move
straight to dissection.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What about voting on a name for the town?”
Logan suggested.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“That’s right,” somebody seconded from the
crowd. “I need an official address for my business.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">And there they went, all talking at once.
Fighting over it. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan reckoned they would be without a name
for a fucking long time. But quarantining a poor, innocent woman and violating
her rights because of a sneeze? On that they unanimously agreed. “As much as
I’d love to stay and debate with you guys, I gotta go.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sky hadn’t looked so hot when he left. Well,
correction, she’d looked hot. Too hot as a matter of fact. Hopefully she’d taken
his suggestion and gone straight to bed, but who knew. She might have decided
to go out to cool down. If the pandemic squad found her on his porch or, God
forbid, wandering the streets, they would freak out. What the government did to
aliens—if they existed, as everyone around here believed they did, of course—was
small potatoes compared to what these nutcases would do to her. And to him by
extension.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He’d stop by the diner. Get her chicken soup.
And then take a detour to the general store. Stock up on Tylenol PM to knock
her out for the next couple of days.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">As he was leaving, his sister called out,
“Remember, keep Patient Zero indoors by whatever means necessary. Use your
charm.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Right. Forget Tylenol. He’d better resort to Valium.</span></span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-16791038594553185622017-12-23T02:15:00.001-08:002017-12-23T02:15:42.325-08:00Cover reveal and pre-order link for iTunes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35ggQ7Ymvhi9Zv7b3sVVLuBnH_bpQUss81CV9v2GU8aH2ktkpd6BK-Q9PkgDbWkL3f150BGggl0rwCcFm7p_Kmhwg48yWY4j-LK3z5G6YFUfJZ5UzfZVWcnQjSgv5HaCTTtD11_C8T_E/s1600/FB+banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="850" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35ggQ7Ymvhi9Zv7b3sVVLuBnH_bpQUss81CV9v2GU8aH2ktkpd6BK-Q9PkgDbWkL3f150BGggl0rwCcFm7p_Kmhwg48yWY4j-LK3z5G6YFUfJZ5UzfZVWcnQjSgv5HaCTTtD11_C8T_E/s320/FB+banner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 22px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica neue,helvetica,arial,verdana,sans-serif;"><strong>C O V E R • R E V E A L</strong></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica neue,helvetica,arial,verdana,sans-serif;">You
LOVE The Bowen Boys Series....Now, get ready to meet this
apocalyptically-prepared, quirky crew of Minnesota survivalists!
Doomsday Preppers Book #1, Sky's The Limit, coming your way January
2018!!<br />
<br />
➤ Release Date: January 16, 2018<br />
➤ iBooks pre-order available now!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica neue,helvetica,arial,verdana,sans-serif;"> https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/skys-the-limit/id1320190117?mt=11</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica neue,helvetica,arial,verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeEyRXs6myxLBuSrBR_cXQn2mF7pBUN4kfnpmwFfUWuJBQ8wO7emtLdGvocYjVjva4Qkq7iNNAL_1W1PtSo4FxzKJWquQgZWen3dmHKFLO-SFu8f5p-NAu0SVP-A81aC8jtQ_YWtZm-4/s1600/cover+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1002" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeEyRXs6myxLBuSrBR_cXQn2mF7pBUN4kfnpmwFfUWuJBQ8wO7emtLdGvocYjVjva4Qkq7iNNAL_1W1PtSo4FxzKJWquQgZWen3dmHKFLO-SFu8f5p-NAu0SVP-A81aC8jtQ_YWtZm-4/s320/cover+-+Copy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">Summary</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><hr />
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">Tired
of waiting for her big break in the fashion industry, Sky Gonzalez,
eternal part-time student and overworked retail drone, quits her job,
sublets her New York apartment, and embarks on a semester abroad study
program in Paris. Paris! Time to throw caution to the winds and
jump-start her dreams. What’s the worst that could happen?</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">How about getting sent to the wrong Paris? As in Paris-frigging-Minnesota?</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">Bye-bye
career dreams. Bye-bye glamour and haute couture. Hello flannel shirts,
mind-numbing cold, zero bars on the cell phone, and socially challenged
mountain men with tons of unruly facial hair.</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">So yeah, let the truck barreling her way hit her, please. Less painful.</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">Logan
should have dodged the little lost waif and kept on driving. Who in
their right mind walked in the middle of the road, dressed in white from
head to high heels, during a snowstorm? Clueless city girls, that's
who. Sky is all that Logan has gladly left behind: stylish,
cosmopolitan, and a massive pain in the butt. He wouldn’t trade a single
day in his quirky little corner of the woods for all the
high-maintenance beauties the city can offer.</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">Too
bad this beauty has been deemed a health hazard and quarantined in his
house. Damn his doomsday-prepper neighbors and their paranoid emergency
protocols. Now he has to keep Sky in and the pandemic squad out until
the roads are clear. The question is, will that happen before or after
Sky realizes she's under house arrest?</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">Ah, the best-laid plans...</span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica neue,helvetica,arial,verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-77263379281751407452017-10-23T03:41:00.002-07:002017-10-23T03:41:38.632-07:00SKY'S THE LIMIT - BLURB<span style="color: black; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Tired of waiting for her big break in the
fashion industry, Sky Gonzalez, eternal part-time student and overworked retail
drone, quits her job, sublets her New York apartment, and embarks on a semester
abroad study program in Paris. Paris! Time to throw caution to the winds and
jump-start her dreams. What’s the worst that could happen?</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">How about getting sent to the wrong Paris? As
in Paris-frigging-Minnesota?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Bye-bye career dreams. Bye-bye glamour and
haute couture. Hello flannel shirts, mind-numbing cold, zero bars on the cell
phone, and socially challenged mountain men with tons of unruly facial hair.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">So yeah, let the truck barreling her way hit her. Less painful.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Logan should have dodged the little lost waif
and kept on driving. Who in their right mind walked in the middle of the road,
dressed in white from head to high heels, during a snowstorm?</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> Clueless city girls, that's who. Sky is all
that Logan has gladly left behind: stylish, cosmopolitan, and a massive pain in
the butt. He wouldn’t trade a single day in his quirky little corner of the
woods for all the high-maintenance beauties the city can offer.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Too bad this beauty has been deemed a health
hazard and quarantined in his house. Damn his doomsday-prepper neighbors and
their paranoid emergency protocols. Now he has to keep Sky in and the pandemic
squad out until the roads are clear. The question is, will that happen before or
after Sky realizes she's under house arrest?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Ah, the best-laid plans...</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">****** </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">SKY'S THE LIMIT (Doomsday preppers 1)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Expected release JAN 2nd 2018</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-87234227134283852612016-12-21T07:42:00.001-08:002016-12-21T07:42:39.650-08:00<b>Hard Limits</b><br />
Rough, unedited version subject to change.<b> </b><br />
<br />
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter One</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Heads-up, that man is calling the cops on
us,” Ronnie said, glancing through the window and waving.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Paige leaned into the steering wheel and
smiled innocently at the man in the next car, but it didn’t help. He continued
staring at Ronnie and her with his eyes about to bug out of the sockets,
speaking even faster into his phone while automatically locking the doors.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Who would have guessed people would be more
scared of Paige clad in white than in her normal Goth attire? Then again, she
was wearing a wedding dress splattered in blood-red, Carrie–style. Ronnie was
too, so yeah, she could understand the panicked expression in the neighboring
car. That they were driving at three o’clock in the morning through Boston
suburbia with their makeup all smudged and their hair a messy snarl of paint and
crazy party didn’t improve matters.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“We are sooo ending up in jail.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span>“Probably,” Ronnie said, trying to pat her hair
down. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">When the lights changed, Paige floored it and
soon lost the spooked driver. Whatever came first, the arrest or the speeding
ticket, she was letting her lovely lunatic of a boss deal with it.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">After all, their current predicament was all
Elle’s fault. She’d declared her bachelorette party was happening in stages
over a whole month, the coed paintball game being the first installment.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">As if the women hadn’t been an easy mark for
all those testosterone-ridden ex-military guys with perfect aim to begin with,
Elle had had them wear old wedding gowns over the protective gear. Guess how
that ended? Not even leveling the odds by mixing teams had helped. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jail. A fitting ending for the night,” Ronnie
muttered. “Can’t believe it didn’t happened before, at the club.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">No shit. After the shooting fest, looking like
some sorts of vampire gore brides, they’d gone drinking downtown. How Elle had
gotten them in to the club dressed like that, Paige didn’t know, although it
shouldn’t be a surprise. Elle always got her way and now, with that ominous
weapon of mass destruction called Jack shadowing her 24/7, it was a miracle
anyone blinked at her twice, regardless of how nuts or unreasonable what she
was asking for was.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">All and all, a memorable first installment.
Paige couldn’t wait to see what was to come. By Jack’s aggrieved looks, he
couldn’t either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You seemed to hit it off with Kay at the club,”
Paige said. “How come I’m driving you home and not him? Not that I mind. Just
curious.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Ronnie laughed. “Didn’t you see the way Jack
looked at him when we were talking? I didn’t want to give my brother a
coronary. Besides, I didn’t want to jinx it now that he’s more relaxed and all
that crazy stuff about the drug cartel<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>is finished.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">True. At the time, when Jack had suddenly
started following Elle everywhere and ordering her around—well, trying to at
least—Paige had not known what was going on. Then Elle had gone underground
and James Bowen, Elle’s brother-in-law, had gathered all of Rosita’s staff and
informed them he was taking over the management of the restaurant temporarily.
From then on, more and more 250-pound, heavily tattooed, bodyguard types had
appeared at opening and closing. In hindsight, no frigging wonder. It was not every
day that you had a South American cartel gunning for you.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">By the time it was all said and done, Jack
almost lost his life rescuing Elle. Now though, they were happily in love and
about to get married. If the groom or the guests could survive
the bachelorette party, that is.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What about you?” Ronnie asked. “How come
you’re driving home with me and not with some sexy stranger? You are by far the
prettiest of all us brides, the way you Goth customized<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the outfit.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She shrugged. “No one tickled my fancy.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The last guy who managed that had been one of
the enforcers for the drug cartel. The second-in-command, as she later found
out. He had come to Rosita’s scouting the place and had struck a conversation
with her. Nick, sea platform worker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Extremely handsome, interesting, easy-going man who almost had gotten
Paige to go out with him.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It figured that the psychopath would zero in
on her.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">They always did.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Worst of it all? She could still remember how
badly she’d wanted him.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You need to give them a chance,” Ronnie
insisted. “Talk to them at least. Take for example that cute guy who kept
sending Bloody Marys your way.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A frat boy interested in taking a stroll in
the kinky side. Nope, thank you. Either they ended up disappointed or freaking
out and freezing, or she was the one doing all the freaking out and freezing.
Both options as unacceptable, really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And unpleasant. Not to mention totally unsexy. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“So that’s me,” Ronnie said pointing at a
building after they turned into her street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Thanks for getting me home.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">That was what it had not to drink, that she
was a permanent designated driver. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No
problem. It was on my way.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Paige would have gone straight home, because
she was dead on her feet, but she had a three-day holiday from Rosita’s and she
needed to make sure all was in order, especially as she had been the one
closing. At the moment couldn’t recall if she’d verified the lock. Besides,
Paige’s colorful roommate was having her boyfriend over and the only thing they
did more than fuck was fight and yell at each other so she was not in too much
of a hurry to get into that mess.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She parked in front of the restaurant. Time to
make her OCD proud. The lock on the roller shutter was closed. She opened and
closed it again, fixing the moment in her mind, and then pulled at it three
times, to ensure she wouldn’t forget. Then from the corner of her eye she
detected movement from a nearby parked car, the door ajar.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">There was a man inside, hunched over, one leg
out.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Probably one of those drunk morons who thought
he drove better intoxicated. No sounds were coming from him. No drunken babble
or dribble or sideways swinging, but it was cold outside. She couldn’t leave
the man there to freeze or choke on his own vomit.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Paige approached. “Yo, buddy, you okay?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">No answer. The guy wasn’t moving, his head
still flung forward. She couldn’t see properly through the window so she opened
the door a bit more, and the hunched figure tipped sideways until his face was
buried on her stomach. She took a step backward and noticed a fresh splotch of
bright red on her dress. Oh, God. That was blood. Real blood. Thick. Sticky.
Dripping from his face. His side too.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She reached for him, and the second she
touched him, a strong hand clamped on her forearm.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The man lifted his bloody face to her, his
expression a snarl, his deep-blue eyes cold and murderous. Before she could
react, he shoved a gun on Paige’s neck.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh shit. She knew that man. “Nick?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">* * * * *</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Nico had trouble focusing his sight.
Everything was blurry. Distorted. He narrowed his eyes. His trigger finger
twitched. The image in front of him sharpened little by little: a bride covered
in blood. Oh, well, it looked like the Grim Reaper had gotten a makeover. Or
maybe he was hallucinating. It wouldn’t be the first time tonight.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s me. Paige,” the bride let out.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Who? He couldn’t recognize the face in front
of him, but her eyes were strangely familiar to him. For the first time that
night, he felt safe, so he lowered his gun. It must had been a right call,
because the Bride didn’t grab his weapon and shot him with it.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’re bleeding,” he heard her say. “You’ve
been shot.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">And drugged. Or poisoned. Hell, both probably.
He wasn’t sure he could articulate so many words, so he just nodded.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You need a doctor. A hospital,” she
continued.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“No hospital,” he choked out. A hospital meant
police. Too many questions. If by any miracle he managed to survive, he didn’t
want to wake up in a government black site. Or in a hole in a jungle
compliments of the cartel.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The bride seemed to doubt for a second. “Okay.
No hospital. But you can’t stay here.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">That was true. Remaining in the open was a
sure death sentence.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Without waiting for his consensus, she scooted
him over to the passenger seat, jumped in, and revved up the engine.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Nick fought to keep conscious as his sight
became fuzzy again. Fuck, not now. He had to get to a safe location before he
lost it completely.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where are we going?” he managed to ask.
Hopefully she was not turning him in or driving him to a hospital because he
was too weak to fight his way out.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She didn’t answer. Just continued driving,
throwing furtive glances his way, eying the gun and his wounds.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He tried to fight the blackness, but he
couldn’t. He was drifting away. Resignation blanketed him, dulling his senses
as his body started shutting down. He looked at his driver. Vintage wedding
dress all covered in blood. Military boots underneath. Spiked choke collar.
Weirdly pretty raccoon eyes. He’d always thought that the last thing he’d ever
see in this world would be a hostile face snarling at him while sending him to
hell.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">If that beautiful bride was the
last image before biting the big one, he was happy.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 28.35pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Taking into consideration the life he’d led,
that was more than he deserved.</span></span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-88549923502338251202016-02-12T14:01:00.001-08:002016-02-12T14:26:16.020-08:00Snippet from Jacked UpHi guys" While we wait Jacked Up's release on Feb 23rd, here you have a snippet. <br />
Enjoy!<br />
<br />
(...)<br />
Elle studied him for a long second before she spoke again. “You didn’t answer when Cole asked why you were taking my side.”<br />
No, he hadn’t answered and he wouldn’t now. The truth of the matter was he hadn’t liked seeing Elle pushed against the wall. Sassy little thing that she was, the Bowens didn’t understand that she thought too much of them to give them her wrath.<br />
Pity she didn’t have the same issue with Jack.<br />
“You could have gotten rid of me today very easily, yet you didn’t. You like having me around; admit it,” she said with a smirk.<br />
Jack dodged her statement and sat on the sofa beside her. “You like pissing me off; admit it.”<br />
“Wrong, Borg. I looove pissing you off.”<br />
It figured. <br />
She pondered for a second, then added, “I think it’s that don’t-fuck-with-me vibe of yours. It makes me, you know, want to fuck with you.”<br />
His cock stood at full attention at the way her eyes danced with laughed and her lips quirked up. Such a fucking tease.<br />
“You don’t want to fuck with me, pet.”<br />
“But I do.”<br />
“You can’t take me on. I like my women tied up. Ball-gagged. Blindfolded. Plug up their asses. Pussy spread open for me to fuck it however I want it. If I take the gag off, it’s to fuck their mouths.”<br />
He was going for shock effect, not that he was exaggerating much. That didn’t shock her. She just whistled. “Wow. No wonder you forget they’re in your bed. How do they communicate? What about the safe word? Do you give them a pad and they use their fingertips to Morse it to you?” She imitated Morse-code-like sounds and added, sounding like a robot, “Tap. Taptaptap. Please scratch my nose. Dying here.”<br />
In spite of himself, he smiled. “You are a smartass.”<br />
“Thanks, I do my best. You didn’t admit you like having me around,” she pressed on, changing the subject.<br />
“Because I don’t.” He hated having her around. Hated what she did to him, how easily she got his attention. How he couldn’t think straight whenever she was near him. How he couldn’t shock her into compliance.<br />
“You’re a shitty liar, Borg.” She turned to him and in a swift movement, straddled him. “Hasn’t anyone tell you you’re handsome when you smile?”<br />
He curtly shook his head, froze as he was with sensory overload.<br />
“They are probably distracted by the growls and the ice-cold stares.”<br />
“And you aren’t?”<br />
“They don’t bother me.” <br />
No shit. They rolled off her back. Nothing seemed to face her.<br />
“I think they’re damn sexy. Can I ask you something?” Before he nodded, she was already talking, her hands flat on his chest. “Why do you kiss me all the time?”<br />
Her sweet mouth was so close to his he could smell the tiramisu gelato she’d been eating. Vanilla with a little kick from the coffee, just like her. Tamping down the need to ravish her lipskiss her, he answered matter-of-factly, “To shut you up. And I wouldn’t say it’s all the time. Just when strictly necessary.” <br />
“So all I need to do to get you to kiss me is chatter?”<br />
Actually, all she had to do was look at him. Hell, breathing was enough.<br />
That he kept to himself. It was already bad enough that his dick was jumping up and down from excitement, trying to break through his jeans by the way it was pounding against the zipper.<br />
She felt it too, he could tell. It was in the smugness in her eyes. “Not interested,” she said, unstraddling him, a cocky smile on her lips. “I know you think I’m dubiously slutty, but I’m not. I’m searching for the one. And you so are not.”<br />
She strode to the TV and turned it on.<br />
Suddenly, Jack jack-knifed and crowding her, turned it off, gripping her waist when she tried to swirl around. <br />
“Really?” he growled in her ear.<br />
“Really what?” she whispered, trying to hide her surprise.<br />
“You’re not interested? That’s why you sway around me half-naked, your nipples hard as stones? Why you sit on my cock?”<br />
“I’m not the one sneaking in your bed at night. Or kissing you all the time.” <br />
“No, you’re the one jacking off in the shower.” Her intake of breath was loud and sharp. She tried again to turn but he tightened the grip he had on her. “No. Keep still.”<br />
Her voice was husky and so fucking sexy. “Why?”<br />
“Because I say so.” And because his cock was hard enough pressed against her ass. Didn’t need any more visual stimuli. <br />
She snorted, her tone incredulous. “Is that supposed to work on me?”<br />
“Oh, but it works on you,” he said kissing her throat and feeling her body tremble. “You know what’s your problem? You go for men who are used to wearing the pants, but then you try to tell them which pants to wear. They cave in; you win and lose interest. You can’t tell me which pants to wear. I don’t work that way.”<br />
“Don’t say. You into quilts?”<br />
Such a smartass, his pet. He cupped her pussy, ripping a whimper out of her. “I’m into fucking. Stuffing yourself with ice cream will give you sugar rush and ultimately put you out.” He increased the pressure on her core. “I can do the same much faster.” <br />
It took a second before she could find her voice. “How much faster? Faster is not always better, Borg. Do you have files on female anatomy? You know what you’re doing?”<br />
Yep, a smartass through and through.<br />
He moved his hand up to her belly and then delved under her panties. Oh fuck, she was bare. Soft, smooth, bare pussy. He caressed her slit. “You bet I know what I’m doing.” Sex he could manage. Sex hHe understood, sex, knew how to make a woman’s body melt with pleasure. Besides, the more distracted they were coming, the less inclined were to want to talk. Or berate him for his lack of social skills. Sex was up his alley; the rest was just a jumbled mess that got him nowhere but into trouble.<br />
He circled her clit, spreading her juices . “Twice I’ve stopped myself from reaching for you and giving you what you were aching for. You were dripping wet all over me in bed, rubbing against me. Moaning in your sleep. So fucking ready to come. By the way, you are fucking sexy jacking off. Were you thinking of me?”<br />
“You saw me in the shower,” she all but whispered, clearing her throat.<br />
“Yes. You need to learn to close the doors, pet. And come in silence.”<br />
She was trembling. Creaming his hand. “And yet you didn’t…”<br />
“Barge in?” he finished her sentence. “No. I wasn’t invited to the party.”<br />
Elle cleared her throat and spoke in a frail thread. “And now you are?”<br />
“Now you’re awake and rubbing against me, panting, not telling me to stop, so yeah… Now I’m invited to the party.”<br />
Her voice was unsure for the first time. “Jack, this might not be the greatest idea.”<br />
Jack slid one finger along her folds, then inside her, her inner flesh clamping around him. Sweet Jesus. So fucking tight. <br />
“Jack—”<br />
He wrapped his other arm around her, supporting her and keeping her trapped. “You haven’t been fucked that much, have you?” Elle was such a tease. So brazen, so in-your-face, but it was a big, false facade. <br />
She licked her dry lips. “Why do you say that?”<br />
“You’re fucking tight, pet. You can’t be giving it up too often.”<br />
At his words, he felt her pussy contract around him. Her spine straightened, her whole body radiating offense.<br />
“You’re wrong. I fuck everything that moves, the bigger and the rougher the better and once a year, for Christmas, I get a vaginal reconstruction and start all over again.”<br />
He chuckled softly. Fuck but she was funny.<br />
“And let me tell you,” she continued, her voice choppy but irate, her flesh slowly yielding to his invasion. “If you’re one of those shitheads who only want to break into untried, tight holes to then move to the next one once it has been ‘stretched,’ you should know that one, I’m not a virgin, and two, the tightest holes in this earth are in men’s asses. Maybe you should move into fucking those.”<br />
<br />
Copyright Elle Aycart 2016<br />
unedited version Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-6442632699192153632016-01-25T14:09:00.001-08:002016-01-25T14:09:21.363-08:00Jacked Up. First chaptersHi everyone, we already have a release date for Jacked Up, Feb 23rd! To celebrate this, here you have the first chapters. Notice that it's the rough, unedited version subjected to changes. And there are some formatting issues in several paragraphs, sorry about that :-(<br />
I hope you'll enjoy revisiting the Bowens and getting to know Jack and Elle better.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<h1>
<span lang="EN-US">Prologue</span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Thinking with his dick was going to get
Jack killed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The guys he was dealing with wouldn’t
hesitate to reach down his throat, rip his balls off, and make a Columbian
necktie with them at the slightest hint of weakness. Or deception. Heck, just
for the sheer fun of it. No big reason needed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Too damn bad he couldn’t help himself. A
cocked gun shoved to his head wouldn’t change jack</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_1" id="_anchor_1" name="_msoanchor_1"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">shit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He logged in to his e-mail account, the one
he was supposed to ignore, hands fucking sweaty. His heart leaped, lodging in
his throat. Yeah, there it was. Unopened mail. From her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He should have deleted this account the
second she’d gotten her meddling, pretty little hands on it. Definitely before
taking the new assignment. At the very least forget its existence. There was a
reason for breaking all ties. Ties were dangerous, but here he was, literally
unable to go a handful of days without checking that damn account. His only
lifeline to the outside world. To her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Yo, Borg, I thought I’d give you the
immense honor of my company, even if you clearly don’t deserve it. It’s
Christmas. No one should be alone in Christmas. Not even rude, insensitive
assholes.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Such a smartass. He could see her in his
mind’s eye. All sass, throwing attitude left and right. That blowsy dark hair
all over her killer hourglass body, those big, bottomless black eyes narrowed
at him, challenging him. Pissing him off and giving him the biggest hard-on of
his life at the same time. Elle Cooper, the bane of his existence. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Is it snowing where you are? I hope you
get a white Christmas.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Jack looked around him. He was in a
helicopter in the middle of a jungle in Butt-fuck nowhere, supervising a
weapons run, and the only thing coming from the sky was a permanent horde of
motherfucking vicious mosquitos he’d long ago stopped caring about. Nope, no
white Christmas for him. Not any other kind either. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Wherever you are, I’m sure you’ve booby-trapped
the chimney, hell, the whole place, and Santa won’t be able to drop by to leave
you anything without risking his life in the process, so I’ve sent you a
present. A cyberpresent, as I’m positive you would have to kill me if you were
to give me an address.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He clicked on the attachment and something
exploded on the screen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A Christmas card for badasses, it read,
with Santa parachuting down sporting commando clothes and an Uzi.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Jack cracked a smile, the muscles of his
face complaining at the rare gesture.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He hadn’t seen her since James’s wedding in
August, yet her image was as fresh in his mind as if she were standing in front
of him. All he had to do was close his eyes and there she was with him, in full
3-D and Dolby surrounding, exuding sex appeal and attitude and the most potent
pheromones he’d ever experienced and against which he didn’t seem to have
defenses.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He should have stayed away from her at the
wedding, but with him being best man and her maid of honor, it had been
virtually impossible, especially when the bride and the groom had insisted on
them dancing. Against his better judgment he’d acceded and now the feel of her
luscious curves were imprinted in his hands. In his brain really. Her sweet
scent too. He’d avoided close contact and touching her for a fucking reason and
this, his pathetic, juvenile behavior while undercover, in the face of frigging
mortal danger, was exactly why.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He’d remained grim and silent during their
dance, clenching his teeth. Trying to block the sensory bombardment, but it had
been too late. And she’d known it. She’d smiled that all-knowing, teasing smile
of hers. So fucking beautiful. And so fucking aggravating.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He’d been under for five months, monitoring
the flow of illegal weapons to <span style="background-color: white;">the</span> rebels</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"> <span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">and watching <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">the</span></span></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_3" id="_anchor_3" name="_msoanchor_3"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US"> motherfuckers use <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">those</span></span></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_4" id="_anchor_4" name="_msoanchor_4"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">assault rifles and rocket launchers on civilians and peacekeepers.
Five of the shittiest, most miserable months of his entire existence—which was
saying a lot, seeing as he’d had pretty shitty assignments before—the only
point of light were her wiseass e-mails. He’d gotten a zillion; well, ninety-three
to be more exact. For a guy who only got encrypted messages and a couple a
month tops, ninety-three e-mails were a shitload. Some of them were barely a
line. A “yo, Borg, sweet dreams, wherever you are.” Others were pages long. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">His brain had ordered him ad nauseam to
block her address. End of issue. No more spam. No more Elle intruding into his
personal space, forcing him to interact with the real world. Ha! Like there was
a chance in hell his body would follow through on that executive decision. He’d
reread her messages many times. Knew them by heart. The wise-assed cracks too.
He couldn’t get enough of her. Even when she just talked about her day, he’d
greedily read every word, soaking them in. What was said, and what wasn’t.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Checking the sender’s details, he realized
she’d written to him in the wee hours. Again. What the hell was she doing up at
that time, on a regular Tuesday? And that was not an exception; it was the
norm. Elle was a party girl. Always shit to do. Places to go. Men to entice.
Not that she had to put too much effort into it; they trailed after her like
lovesick puppies, ready to lick her toes and worship at her altar for just a
smile of hers. She was the kind of woman for whom necks snapped whenever she
entered a room and when she left it, there wasn’t a single guy not following
her gorgeous behind. The kind of woman one could look at but should never
touch. You touch her, you’d get burned. Jack was too old and jaded for that
kind of crap. The aftermath of such a fucking rollercoaster would be a killer.
He’d rather get shot in the stomach and be left to die, thank you very much.
Less painful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He repeated that to himself but continued
reading.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">A<span style="background-color: #666666;"><span></span></span>s</span></span><span lang="EN-US"></span></i><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_5" id="_anchor_5" name="_msoanchor_5"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><i><span lang="EN-US">you can see from the pictures, all is good here. We had a full house
for Christmas. I was supposed to work but Aunt Maggie swore she’d haunt me down
if I didn’t show up. Mr. Bowen came from Florida. Christy’s mom from LA. All
the Bowen and their women were there. Lots of fun. It would had been funnier with
you, of course, barrel of laughs that you are. Life and soul of the party,
really. </span></i><span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Right. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She</i>
was the life and soul of the party. Of any party. She just had to smile to be
the center of attention. Hell, all she had to do was to show up</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_6" id="_anchor_6" name="_msoanchor_6"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">stared</span></span> at the second attachment. Pictures probably. Elle always
sent him pictures, which he normally refused to look at, stashing them into a
file in the cloud. It was bad enough this idiocy he had going on, no need to go
for the whole nine yards. But today he needed too much. In three minutes it
would be his fucking birthday. Thirty-six and not shit to show for. No wife, no
kids. A half-decent day at work was one he survived unscathed while dealing
with crazy fanatics. He was so wound up he couldn’t contain himself and gut
churning, he opened the file where he’d gathered all she’d sent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">One <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">glance</span></span> at them and his throat clogged. Fuck</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_7" id="_anchor_7" name="_msoanchor_7"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">she always knew what he needed. There were shots of Alden and the
Bowens, all laughing. Barbecues. Birthday parties. The newest were from
Christmas Eve. Max with his hands on the pregnant belly of his new lady friend,
the one Elle had talked to Jack about. The one prone to weird accidents. It
seemed like the last Bowen had already bit the dust, willingly, with a big,
sappy smile on his face. Jack’s chest tightened. Love and family and friends,
exactly the very things he was missing the most. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He reached into his pocket and took an
antacid. His stomach had been bulletproof. Until Elle. Now he had a fucking
hole the size of Texas, or so he thought. He was still in denial and refusing
to go to the doc, living under the illusion that whenever his exposure to her
would end, the ulcer would disappear. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He popped the pill and continued with his
foolish task</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_8" id="_anchor_8" name="_msoanchor_8"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">. Rosita’s was featured very prominently too. Not so much Elle, who
was always the one behind the camera. She was only in a couple of shots. In one
she was showing her tongue and making a face. In the other she was laughing,
hugging her sister Tate and James. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">At that moment an e-mail appeared on his
inbox from party girl. He looked at the time stamp: 00:01, rather early for
her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Without thinking, he clicked on it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Happy
birthday, Borg!!</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Don’t
look so surprised, you know I’m very resourceful. It wasn’t easy, let me tell you,
to get it out of James. It was a slip, long time ago, but I have a great
memory. He never said your actual age so don’t freak on me, big boy, your
secret is safe.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">I
would have never pegged you for a Capricorn though. I thought you’d be a
Scorpio, after all, most serial killers</span></i><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_9" id="_anchor_9" name="_msoanchor_9"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"> are born in November…</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Then
again, being a goat suits you too.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Wherever
you are, whatever you are doing, I hope you have a fabulous day. You would have
a much better time with us, but you can’t have everything in life, can you?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">No, he couldn’t. Learned that long ago.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Don’t
have much time now, too busy at Rosita’s. Just wanted to be the first to
congratulate you on your birthday—or your assembly day—however your kind of
people are made.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">I’ll
write to you later.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This time, the attachment was a video. Before
he could realize the foolishness of it, He opened it and his heart tumbled the
second he heard her laugh. Someone, Tate by the sound of it, was filming her
and Elle was joking with her. Then, as she stood under the mistletoe, she threw
an air kiss to the camera and winked an eye. His chest clenched so fucking hard
his lungs burned from the lack of air.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Jack stared at the image greedily, as if it</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_10" id="_anchor_10" name="_msoanchor_10"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">were air and he was a
fucking drowning man.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Which he was. Drowning in filth and lies
and human misery. Dealing with the worst of the worst, risking a Colombian necktie
and God only knew what else for just a peek at Elle’s words and a world he didn’t
belong to. His chest in a fist. His cock fucking hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He slapped the laptop closed, pissed at
himself. This was no place to lower his guard. He was surrounded by scum. He
ought to behave accordingly and stop daydreaming about the only woman in the world he couldn’t
allow himself to have</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
<div class="AsteriskBreak">
<br /></div>
<div class="AsteriskBreak">
<span lang="EN-US">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Two months later, Boston</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Elle looked around at the hospital chapel.
It couldn’t been denied; Bowen men were extremely original when it came to
weddings. First it had been James with that romantic midnight ceremony on the
backyard, a thousand small lights illuminating the garden. Then Cole had pledged
himself to Christy surrounded by aliens in Las Vegas. Elle hadn’t been there,
but she had irrefutable proof of it at Rosita’s, framed in central position on
the wall of fame.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And now Max had gathered a bunch of
trigger-happy preppers on one side and some stick-up-their-asses socialites on
the other and was getting hitched in a hospital chapel, before taking his woman
and his newly born daughter home with him. A last-minute, simple ceremony.<span style="background-color: white;"> <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">After</span> what had happened, Elle
couldn’t blame Max for not wanting to wait. Staring death straight in the eye—even
worse, watching the woman you loved almost be killed—would do that to you. </span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: white;">The brothers were talking while waiting for the bride. Mr.
Bowen by their side, standing proud. <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">After</span> fussing over Tate, James joined them</span>.</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_12" id="_anchor_12" name="_msoanchor_12"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Elle walked to where Tate was sitting. “How
are you doing, sis?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Can’t wait to be able to tie my own shoes
again,” Tate grumbled looking at her distended belly. “And to get James off my
back.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Right. Like she needed to tie her own shoes
with James around. “Come on, he treats you like a queen. He worries.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Tate smiled softly, looking at her husband.
“I know.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Elle still couldn’t get used to the image
of her prim and proper little sister married to the tattooed-up-to-his ears,
possessive James Bowen. And yet she couldn’t think of a better husband for her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“How’s Rosita’s?” Tate asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Still standing,” Elle assured her. Man,
her sister had been away from the restaurant for a couple of days and she was
already fretting. If it were up to her, she’d be there this last month of
pregnancy, but the doctor had ordered her to rest and James wasn’t taking any chances.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Mom offered to come to help,” Tate
insisted. “We can call her. She’d be here in a flash, and you wouldn’t be alone
in that big house.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Elle shook her head. She could manage just
fine. Her mom liked it in Florida, where there weren’t so many reminders of her
deceased husband and son, and being with Ron was good for her. “Rosita’s will
be fine. And I like my space.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Tate didn’t believe her, not for a second. “Why
don’t you just rent it and with the money pay for a place of your own. You
know, somewhere not so full of…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Memories. That was the word Tate was
probably working herself to. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I’m fine there,” Elle assured. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Before Tate could say anything, Annie
walked in with the baby in her arms, her mother by her side. Max darted right
away to them, face beaming with love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Elle had known from the very beginning that
Annie was going to be the one for Max. He’d had that look in his eyes, the same
one James and Cole had when they looked at their wives. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Let’s get this show rolling,” Max said
after the priest arrived.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As they took their places, Elle scanned the
premises. No sign of Jack. He was still doing whatever commando shit he’d been
doing since summer, but she’d sent him an e-mail with the info about the
wedding a couple of days ago, hoping he’d read it on time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Suddenly the doors opened and a big black
shadow stepped in. The air that she didn’t know she’d been holding came out in
a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">whoosh.</i> Jack. She didn’t need the
man to remove the hood to recognize him. The massive force field around him
gave him away. When he revealed his face though, she froze. His demeanor had
always been severe, but now he looked like a real cyborg. Deep, soulless eyes.
Sharper features. Skinnier, if the massive tank he still was could be called
that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Elle approached him and stood in the same
aisle he did. “So you do read my e-mails,” she whispered to him, her eyes never
leaving the priest<i>. </i>“You’re just too rude to answer to them.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She didn’t need an affirmation from him,
because one, she knew he was that rude and two, there was no doubt he’d read
her e-mails. And thank God for that; otherwise Max and Annie wouldn’t be here,
getting married, and their story would have ended very differently. Just the
thought of it made her sick</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_13" id="_anchor_13" name="_msoanchor_13"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">. What would have happened
if she hadn’t sent Jack those shots of Max and Annie? She didn’t even want to
think about it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Quiet, pet,” he answered back. She couldn’t
see, and it was just a flash, but she felt his smile on his voice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Pet. How she got that demeaning nickname
from him, she didn’t know. He’d barely talked to her in all the time they’ve
known each other, just grunts and scowls. Then James had gotten hurt last
summer and ended up in the hospital, shaking the living shit out of everyone,
her included, and when Elle had tried to drive out of there to go open Rosita’s,
Jack had blocked the door, snatched the car keys away from her and not only
forbade her to drive, but called her pet. Worse still, when she replied that
she didn’t recall giving him permission to call her pet, the asshole dared to
say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I don’t recall giving you permission
to talk at all, pet </i>with that frigging arrogant tone of his too, the one
that gave her those embarrassing shivers. Modern women shouldn’t get shivers at
that. So politically incorrect, dammit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And the asshole was immune to her. She got
her way with everyone but him, who aggravated the living hell out of her by
ignoring her. And the more he ignored her, the more she felt like pissing him
off. A vicious, rather enjoyable circle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She stood by his side, their hands brushing
during the service, feeling the tension rolling off him. The darkness too. He
was in a bad place. Not caring that he would probably rebuff her, she slid her hand
in his and gave him a tight squeeze. He needed that, whether he would admit it
or not. He froze for a second and to her utter surprise, when she tried to break
the embrace</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"></span><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span><span lang="EN-US">,</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_15" id="_anchor_15" name="_msoanchor_15"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">he didn’t let her, holding
her tighter. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">They didn’t exchange a word during the
ceremony<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="mso-comment-date: 20160121T1007; mso-comment-reference: RO_16;">.</a></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_16" id="_anchor_16" name="_msoanchor_16"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Elle didn’t even move a
hair, afraid it would break the spell and Jack would remember he was a badass
in no need whatsoever of comfort. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i>
a badass, true, but whatever he was involved in, it was eating at him. He was
tense and grim. Worn out, although he was standing stoic and would rather die
than admit it. He needed the comfort, the human touch, even if it was just a
small gesture, and damn if she wasn’t going to give it to him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">After Max and Annie were presented as
husband and wife, everyone rushed to congratulate them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Jack loosened his grip on her, and Elle
moved to kiss the newlyweds. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When she turned around, Jack had already
disappeared.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h1>
<span lang="EN-US">Chapter One</span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">One and a half months later, Alden</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Jack adjusted his tie, feeling
uncomfortable as all fuck. The service at the church had been bad, but the
mingling and the chitchatting of the reception was much worse. That it was a
very informal one, barbecue style, at James’s, didn’t make matters better. The
other way around, actually. It made them chattier. He’d rather eat glass. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of
there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“What have I ever done to you to deserve
this?” Jack muttered to James.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He hadn’t been forty-eight hours back from
his eight <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">month</span></span>s
undercover sting and he was already in Alden, neck deep in babies, parties, and
marriage bliss. Under normal circumstances, this family fest would have been
hard. In his present state, it was unbearable. He was still too raw inside. All
he wanted was to be alone, drink himself unconscious, and zonk out for at least
a week<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="mso-comment-date: 20160123T1314; mso-comment-reference: EA_17;"><span style="background: aqua; mso-highlight: aqua;"></span></a></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_17" id="_anchor_17" name="_msoanchor_17"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Come on, man. You know I love you,” James
said laughing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Thank fucking God. I don’t want to know
what you would do to me if you hated me.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Being back among normal people doing normal
stuff was fucking hard. Not life-reassuring. Just uncomfortable and pointless.
Making him feel disconnected and more of an outsider. The small talk, the
smiles. His stomach roiled at it all, but James was a persistent son of a bitch
who had refused to see reason.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“You could have declined to be my son’s godfather.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“And I would have if you would have told me
who the godmother was,” Jack grumbled.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">James chuckled. “No, you wouldn’t have.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">True. Refusing wouldn’t have been an option
for Jack. Whatever James would ask of him, he would do, no questions asked. And
the motherfucker knew it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“And I didn’t lie to you about the godmother,”
James continued with a smirk. “You never asked. You must be losing your touch.”
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">True again. It was all this happy-happy,
love-is-in-the-air, pink-marshmallow gooeyness around Jack that was melting his
brain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Alden and the Bowens were bad for his
mental health.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I told you I wasn’t up for this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“And that’s exactly why you need to be
here,” James stated. “You were too long under this time. You need to be
reminded of the good things in life. Get a haircut. Shave and go get laid.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Whatever.” Like it would be so easy to
unplug. The
stench of misery was still stuck in him, even though<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="mso-comment-date: 20160121T1020; mso-comment-reference: RO_18;"><span style="mso-comment-continuation: 19;"></span></a></span><span style="mso-comment-continuation: 19;"><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_18" id="_anchor_18" name="_msoanchor_18"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">he’d scrubbed himself
bloody. It was difficult to wash away.</span></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_19" id="_anchor_19" name="_msoanchor_19"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">At that moment, one of the main reasons for
his piss-poor mood tapped him on the shoulder.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Come on, T-800,” party girl said from
behind him. “The photographer wants a picture of Jonah with his godparents. I
tried to convince him that the godfather is not really photogenic and might
break the camera with his growls and shitty disposition, but he wants to risk
it, professional that he is.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Without waiting for a response from him,
she briskly walked away. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">James clapped him on the back. “As I said,
the good things in life.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“T-800?” That was a new one. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Infiltration unit. Model 101, series 800,”
James whispered. Then, probably realizing that meant nothing to Jack, added, “The
dumbest of all terminators?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It figured.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Don’t complain,” James continued. “It
could be worse. There’s one series who is a woman with big boobs dressed in red
leather</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_20" id="_anchor_20" name="_msoanchor_20"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He’d been told many times he came across as
threatening and unapproachable, that everyone was intimidated by him. He liked
it that way. The less human interaction, the better. Yet, for some surreal
reason, everybody didn’t include her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He hadn’t known Elle was the godmother
although he should have imagined James would pull a stunt like this. Not that
Jonah was unlucky to have her on his corner. <span style="mso-comment-continuation: 22;">On </span></span><span style="mso-comment-continuation: 22;"><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_21" id="_anchor_21" name="_msoanchor_21"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_22" id="_anchor_22" name="_msoanchor_22"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">the contrary. She was
fierce and protective. Damn abrasive and infuriating also</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_23" id="_anchor_23" name="_msoanchor_23"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">. Too bad when he closed
his eyes, she was the only woman his mind invariably conjured.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Come on,” she called at him, turning
around and wiggling her index finger at him. “Try to keep up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He followed her, trying very hard but
failing not to notice her sandglass figure and the hypnotic sway of her hips.
That gorgeous ass. The way her long, glossy dark hair seemed to float on her
back. And that smell. Fuck, that smell always <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">shot</span> straight to his cock, never mind how
inappropriate the moment was.</span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: white;">The photographer wanted several <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">shot</span>s of them in different
locations, but Jonah took pity on Jack and decided to start fussing,</span> so the
ordeal was cut short, ending while he was sitting on the porch sling. He would
have stood up and left if he could have, but his legs weren’t obeying him.
Besides, the way out of there was through a horde of giggling, happy people,
all nice and friendly. Living oblivious to all the darkness in the world.
Wanting to know why he looked so gloomy and trying to cheer him up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">With Elle cooing at the baby, Jonah calmed
down pretty fast, and Jack found himself staring at the both of them. He never
felt disconnected or like an outsider while being around Elle. He felt pissed
at himself and bothered beyond belief and amused and aggrieved all at the same
time, but never disconnected. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She turned to him, smiled, and he got the
full impact, like a fucking 18-wheeler slamming against his chest. Olive-color
skin. Delicate features, sultry, extremely fuckable lips. Killer body. Too bad every
inch of her being radiated that belligerent disposition of hers, the one that
made his cock so fucking hard he couldn’t breathe. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_24" id="_anchor_24" name="_msoanchor_24"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Fuck, he’d hoped her
effect on him would have worn down with exposure but no dice. She’d gotten even
more beautiful, which should have been impossible, because she was stunning to
begin with.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He could still remember the day he’d seen
her for the first time at Rosita’s. She’d looked at him with those black eyes
of hers full of attitude and the world had tilted on its axis. He’d tried to
get it back straight, but so far he’d had no luck whatsoever. With her around
all was a mess—which he fucking hated it—but without her nothing felt right. Go
fucking figure.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“So you finally resurfaced. You sticking
around this time, or is this just another of your quickies?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He all but choked. “What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“In and out in a flash. Now we see you, now
we don’t, like</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_25" id="_anchor_25" name="_msoanchor_25"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Max’s wedding.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Max’s wedding, another of his lapse of
judgment a bit over a month ago. He’d flown into Boston and then driven for two
hours to make sure he didn’t have a tail, arriving just in time to see the
couple walk down the aisle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Going there had been his first mistake.
Letting Elle touch him had been his second and even far more dangerous. He
couldn’t explain why he hadn’t allowed Elle to let go of him. She was small and
delicate, but despite</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_26" id="_anchor_26" name="_msoanchor_26"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">how hard he’d held unto
her, she hadn’t complained, gripping his as tight. Standing there, in silence,
holding hands, had been the most at peace he’d felt for months. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Whatever Elle had seen in his eyes must
have been pretty bad, because she hadn’t said anything, but after that, she’d
started writing to him daily and sending him more pictures than ever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Done. For the most part.” The mission had
been to infiltrate the illegal arms trade, investigating the</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_27" id="_anchor_27" name="_msoanchor_27"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">source of arms flowing to
scumbags all over the world</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_28" id="_anchor_28" name="_msoanchor_28"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">. The sting undercover had
been a success, managing to shoot down several routes without getting his cover
blown, but there were always loose ends to be tied up. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Where were you?” He didn’t answer but she
didn’t seem to take it personally. “Got it. State secret.” She gave him a once-over and
not giving him time to pull away, brushed his beard with her fingertips, the unexpected
caress sending a jolt through his body and zapping his brain<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="mso-comment-date: 20160121T1038; mso-comment-reference: RO_29;">.</a></span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_29" id="_anchor_29" name="_msoanchor_29"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">“You look different.
Scruffy. I like it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Jack pulled away and</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a class="msocomanchor" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7953326570353653701#_msocom_30" id="_anchor_30" name="_msoanchor_30"></a><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US"> ran his hand through his
shaggy <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hair, trying not to think about
how good her touch had felt. “Don’t get used to it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with
a laugh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Before he could censor himself, his dumb
mouth opened. “Where is Kai?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She studied him with big inquisitive eyes,
the corner of her mouth tilted up in amusement. “Where’s the blonde?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Blonde? Ah, that babysitting job he’d been
guilt-tripped into during James’s wedding. Gorgeous woman, no two ways about
it, but Jack hadn’t even noticed her. Elle was all he had seen. Her and her
date, Kai, grinning like a fucking fool, his hand on the small of Elle’s back. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Man, he’d wanted so badly to chop off that
hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Forgot her tied to your bed?” Elle
continued. “That’s what it has to gag your dates, that they can’t scream and
one forgets they are there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“You speaking from experience, pet?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“No one would ever forget I’m in their bed.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He looked into her eyes. No, of course not.
Any man with blood in his veins would kill for that memory. Instead, he
answered, “I bet. You’re that obnoxious.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She didn’t take offense. She tapped
condescendingly on his chest. “Not the right word, buddy. But I’ll forgive you.
Everyone knows T-800s have limited vocabulary. Besides, this must be
overwhelming for you. Wifeys and babies all over the place.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with
that.” Which, under normal circumstances, was true. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Really? I thought you’d be another of
those commitment-phobic guys.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“No.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She studied him. “You want to marry?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Sure. I just would never marry someone
like you,” he said, his tone hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Now it was when she would cross his face
and leave him there in a huff. Lord knew it wouldn’t be the first one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Elle burst into laughter. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“</i>You’re so full of yourself. What makes
you think I would marry you? You are not husband material. You are…fucking
material,” she whispered the last two words, covering Jonah’s barely month-old
ears, as if the baby could understand. “At best. And that remains to be seen.
You might not be good at that either. Not that I have the slightest interest in
finding out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“You are lying, pet.” he found himself
blurting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Her expression was deceivingly sweet. “Do
not call me pet.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Do not lie, pet.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Nope. Given up on bad boys, sweetie. And
you are as bad as they come.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Then she stood up and still chuckling,
walked away from him, leaving him stunned and with the mother of all hard-ons
tenting his pants.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In spite of everything, he felt a smile
breaking over his face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Yep, he needed to get the fuck out of Alden
and away from her. Pronto. Before the little mind he had left melted.</span></div>
<div style="mso-element: comment-list;">
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Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-33226743747484526212015-06-25T03:55:00.000-07:002015-06-25T03:55:50.584-07:00COVER REVEAL - HEAVY SECRETS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Goodreads:
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">ET</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1ET1QTW">QTW</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Pre-order
available here: </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
US: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1eGOcif">http</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1eGOcif">://</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1eGOcif">amzn</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1eGOcif">.</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1eGOcif">to</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1eGOcif">/1</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1eGOcif">eGOcif</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
UK: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1dfivuw">http</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1dfivuw">://</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1dfivuw">amzn</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1dfivuw">.</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1dfivuw">to</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1dfivuw">/1</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1dfivuw">dfivuw</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Loose
ID: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">http</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">://</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">www</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">.</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">loose</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">-</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">id</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">.</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">com</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">/</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">heavy</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">-</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">secrets</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">.</a><a href="http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-secrets.html">html</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">(additional
retailers to follow) </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Release
Date: June 30th</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"></span><br /></span>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="color: white;"><span id="freeText6790764003006005342">Christy Sheridan has
come a long way from the physical and emotional wreck she used to be.
She's made Alden her home and is happily engaged to a man who loves and
accepts her for who she is, curves, quirks, and geekiness included. Life
is good. Until mommy dearest blows into town to "help" her clueless
daughter seal the deal. <br /><br />Cole Bowen is experiencing a world of
firsts: first time in love, first engagement, first Valentine's, first
in-laws. He's found the woman of his dreams, so he figured dealing with
Martha Sheridan was a small price to pay. That is before his
monster-in-law plants herself in their home and inside Christy's head,
stirring up old demons and destroying her newly regained self-esteem.
And while his hands are full with trying to neutralize their meddlesome
guest, a mysterious phone call turns his world upside down.<br /><br />With
ghosts from the past resurfacing and threatening to tear Cole and
Christy apart, can they make it to the wedding they both so desperately
want, or will heavy secrets send their relationship to the breaking
point?</span></span>
</div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><i><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Bowen
Series Reading Order</span></u></i></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">More
than Meets the Ink (Bowen, #1)</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
US: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ">http</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ">://</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ">amzn</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ">.</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ">to</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ">/1</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ">BHLGvQ</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
UK: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">http</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">://</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">amzn</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">.</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">to</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">/1</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">AddDA</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1AddDA2">2</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Barnes
& Noble: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD">DjeSLD</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">iTunes:
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">BLgSg</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5">5</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Kobo:
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">yVS</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">0</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC">xC</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Heavy
Issues (Bowen #2)</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
US: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo">http</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo">://</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo">amzn</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo">.</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo">to</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo">/1</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo">ymbIUo</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
UK: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN">http</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN">://</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN">amzn</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN">.</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN">to</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN">/1</a><a href="http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN">yZFYrN</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Barnes
& Noble: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">vn</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">91</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">q</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1vn91q6">6
</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">iTunes:
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">tN</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">4</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo">oEo</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Kobo:
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
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<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Inked
Ever After (Bowen, #2.5)</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Amazon
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Barnes
& Noble: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ">DshXJJ</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
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<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">iTunes:
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">/1</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">HB</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">27</a><a href="http://bit.ly/1HB27mj">mj</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
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<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">Kobo:
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">http</a><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">://</a><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">bit</a><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">.</a><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">ly</a><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">/16</a><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">duB</a><a href="http://bit.ly/16duB52">52</a></span></u></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">To
The Max (Bowen, #3)</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span>
<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
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<div align="center" class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;">All
Romance ebooks:</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto auto;"><a href="http://bit.ly/1KMsQZp">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
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<div align="center" class="western" lang="en-US" style="border: none; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">
</span></span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-20649525667914710582015-06-13T04:46:00.001-07:002015-06-13T04:46:38.827-07:00Heavy Secrets, Cole and Christy's novella, to be released June 30th. Read the first chapter here!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<h1>
<span lang="EN-US">Chapter One</span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How
many years do you think I’d get for offing my mom? Because honest to God, if
we’re talking single digits, I’m willing to risk it,” Christy said while leaning
back on the lounge chair after getting a full-body massage that had left her
totally gooey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They
were at the spa, wearing fluffy bathrobes and sipping tea, except for Christy,
who was nursing a diet soda.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Just name
a time and place, and we’ll be there with a shovel. No questions asked,” Annie
said, and Holly and Tate assented.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I could
claim temporary insanity.” Heck, emotional self-defense too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Don’t
worry, we’ll vouch for you. No jury in its right mind would convict you,” Holly
stated. “I thought you were exaggerating, but boy, were you understating. What
a…character.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Ha. That
was one way of putting it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
nodded in commiseration. She’d met Martha a long time ago, when the girls were
in college. Christy had gone for an East Coast institution, hoping it would be
out of her mom’s range, but going away had been useless. There was no place far
enough.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Crazy
had its own methods of reaching her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Where’s
the Grand Diva now?” Tate, Christy’s future sister-in-law, asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Checking
out wedding dresses. She arranged an appointment at a bridal shop. I stood her
up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her
whole posse turned to her, looking stupefied.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“She’s
picking out a wedding dress without the bride?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Yeah, typical
Martha stunt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I know
I should be there, but why, really? She won’t listen to anything I say. I might
as well save my breath.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And a
whole lot of pain and abuse in the process.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
girls pondered for a second and then nodded.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Oh, and
remember,” Christy added, reaching for her diet soda. “I’m not here. I’m in the
middle of a massive twelve-car accident. Well and healthy but stuck inside the
vehicle and waiting for the firefighters to come and cut the roof open to
rescue me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">That her
mom hadn’t rushed to her side when Christy called her—and that Christy had
known she wouldn’t—already said it all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“And when
your mom realizes your car is intact? Then what?” Tate asked, to which Christy
couldn’t help snorting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“That
would imply she remembered our talk. It won’t happen. A total impossibility.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
would bet anything, her first unborn child included—and her second and
third—that her mom wouldn’t even mention it. That was the advantage of being
disappointed one too many times; no way in hell to harbor false illusions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Martha’s
number-one priority was…Martha. Followed by whatever man she was screwing with
at the moment. How she’d managed to marry a decent guy and keep him for several
years was beyond Christy. Then again, Fred was too kind for his own good. That
or he had a hell of a lot of bad karma from a previous life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">For a split
second, she’d considered going to the bridal shop, but then she’d discarded the
idea. Defaulting to her smile-accept-and-walk-away technique, she’d nodded and
kept quiet. And had run in the opposite direction at the first chance. Let her
mother get her kicks. Just let her do it far away from Christy. Besides, there
was no damage Martha could do; Christy had told the shop assistant not to
reserve anything without her consent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Holly
poured herself more tea. “Doesn’t she know you don’t want a traditional dress
for your summer wedding?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“She
knows. She just doesn’t care.” They were talking about a woman who had gotten
married four times, once with a beer-can tab as a ring. Appointments at
high-scale bridal shops were a dream come true for her. “I feel like a shitty
daughter, but I’m so ready for her to leave.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Martha
had come for Christmas with her husband and stayed a couple of days. It had
gone rather well, probably because Cole was scary enough and Martha hadn’t
worked herself up to be…well, herself. This time around, she’d been in Alden
for three days, without Fred, and Christy was ready to face the gallows for a
chance to get rid of her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Fate had
thrown Christy the mother of all curve balls when it chose Martha as her sole
parent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Their
relationship had always been complicated, to say the least, with Christy
spending all her life putting out fires—Martha’s—and eating to cope. Eventually
she’d gotten her food addiction under control, but changing her mom and her nasty
ways was something out of her reach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And
having Martha living with her without Fred as a buffer was bringing up all
sorts of feelings and automatic coping mechanisms that Christy had thought
she’d left behind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Lora,
Christy’s former sponsor, had been right: nothing guaranteed recovery, and they
were always one upset away from relapse. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What
about Cole?” Tate asked, taking Christy out of her reverie. “Isn’t he putting
her in her place?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He would
if he knew. Apparently Martha was learning subtlety, at least in front of a
240-pound, uncompromising ex-marine. It also helped that Christy had asked him
not to interfere. Cole was a black-and-white kind of person. Intransigent and
not inclined to put up with moronities. Left to his own devices, he would have
kicked Martha out the first day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“She’s…contained
around him. I think she’s scared of him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“She and
half the world, sister,” Holly mumbled.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
rolled her eyes and, after reaching inside the pocket of her bathrobe, fished
out a sugar-free cherry lollipop. “Come on. Cole is a harmless sweetie.” Who
liked macho power tripping and playing with cuffs, but a sweetie nonetheless.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They’d
been together for six months, and although they’d clashed several times, he’d
kept his word and hadn’t shut her out. He’d leave to cool down—sometimes he
went to his brother James’s; sometimes she saw him pacing up and down the yard,
muttering under his breath—but he always came back and they always found middle
ground.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“To you
he’s harmless,” Holly corrected as Christy unwrapped the candy. “Wait until he
finds out about the pole-dancing classes. Mike already told Kyra to up her
insurance. And to make sure there are no guys lurking around during said
classes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Cole and
his men had started working on Kyra’s dance studio right before Christmas and
had gotten it ready in no time. Anything to get the exotic aerobics and the
horde of giggling women in tight thongs out of Haddican’s, the local gym, and
away from so much bubbling testosterone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“It’s
all Annie’s fault,” Christy shot back, giving her friend the evil eye. “She
signed me up without asking.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
wasn’t much for showing herself off, and pole dancing was exactly that, but
Kyra had been so excited to have her and Tate on board that it had been
impossible to get out of it without hurting Kyra’s feelings.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">On the
plus side, Martha hadn’t found out about her daughter’s new hobby. She would
have made fun of Christy or joined the classes. Either way, no number of
twelve-step meetings would have helped Christy get through that trauma. Her
mother was many things, but ugly and clumsy she wasn’t. That her ass and boobs
were still perkily pointing north and that she moved perfectly to capitalize on
that also helped. Working a pole under her reproving stare would have killed
Christy and her shaky, newly developed self-esteem. For all Martha’s dumb
decisions in her personal life—and boy, were there plenty—she had a witty
tongue and knew how to deliver killer putdowns.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Duh,
you would have said no,” Annie replied, bringing her back to the present. “And
I owed you one after you got me into exotic aerobics.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You know
I can’t quit the exotic aerobics. I needed company.” Christy had gone there
just on a whim, but then Cole saw her and, in one of his my-way-or-the-highway
stunts, had tossed her over his shoulder and stomped out of the class. Now she
couldn’t quit, just on principle. She needed to stand her ground with Cole,
especially when he was being a control freak and attempting to fuck her into
submission, which was very often.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Besides,
she liked that class. And defying Cole.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
pursed her lips. “A pregnant woman wiggling her ass around a chair and
pretending to be sexy is…definitely not.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m
pretty sure Max feels otherwise,” Holly said. “I’ve seen him watching you. No
way to disguise that look.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What
look?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“That
tight expression. The she’s-mine-everyone-back-the-fuck-off glare, mixed with
wait-till-I-get-a-closed-door-between-us-and-the-rest-of-the-world.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Tate
laughed. “That’s the standard Bowen look.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Damn
right. Christy had seen it on Cole’s face many times. Before and after fucking
her senseless. Heck, while too. She loved that proprietary look. It said she
was beautiful and he needed her. For someone who’d battled self-esteem issues
all her life, it meant the world. Cole meant the world to her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“As soon
as the baby pops out,” Christy said, pointing at Annie’s seven-months-pregnant
belly, “you’re marching into the pole-dancing classes with me. No frigging
excuses.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
shook her head. “I have shitty coordination. I’d kill myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Sure.
And the swing up in Max’s room?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They
were all rosy from their facial massages, yet Annie visibly flushed. “Hmm,
that’s for yoga?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
couldn’t stifle the giggle. Neither could Holly or Tate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Yeah,
because Max was such a yoga type.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy dipped
her sugar-free lollipop on her diet soda. “If I’m making an ass out of myself
and Kyra is risking the integrity of her new business, you’re joining us after
recovering from childbirth.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
grimaced, pointing at Christy’s glass. “That’s gross. I thought you were
cutting back on your weird stuff.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Yeah,
she’d thought that too. Until her mom blew into town.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Cola-flavored
cherry lollipop or cherry-flavored soda. Not weirder than scooping Nutella with
bacon.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“True,
but I’m hormonal.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Ha!
Pregnancy hormones had nothing on the spike of anxiety that Martha created.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“By the
way, Tate,” Holly chimed in, “did you get a pole installed in the bedroom?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Now it
was Tate blushing. “Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“And?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
blushed even harder. She was six months pregnant, and although she had some
limitations where the movements were concerned, Christy had seen her dance.
Tate really knew how to make it work. She kicked ass. Pregnant and all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“James
loved it. As in really loved it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“On a
scale of one to ten?” Holly asked, wiggling her eyebrows.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Thirty.
And don’t worry,” Tate hurried to appease Christy. “I made him promise he won’t
say a word to Cole about the classes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Good,
because Mike was right. If Cole found out, Kyra was going to need
top-of-the-line insurance, especially with Amantis’s dancing crew and the
security detail snooping around.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Although
I don’t see the big issue. It’s for Cole. Whenever you’re ready, he’ll be the
one enjoying the result of the classes, right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Right,”
Christy mumbled. She’d started liking it, but considering how klutzy she felt
at pole dancing, it was going to take a couple of decades before Cole got to
see her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Holly
turned her inquisitive gaze to Annie. “And your, uh, yoga swing? Scale of one
to ten?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Thirty,”
she answered after a long pause, red as a frigging tomato.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Wow.
Swings, dancing poles. The pregnant ladies here like their toys,” Holly said
with a grin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy glanced
at Annie and Tate, both fanning themselves. “We should change the subject.
Before the kinky pregnant ladies faint.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
a fine one to talk. And the cuffs tucked in the drawer in your nightstand?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Annie!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What?
I’m being tactful. The cuffs were the only objects I recognized.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Okay,
they were so banned from each other’s bedrooms.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Really?”
Holly asked, looking intrigued as hell. “What kind of objects?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“We are
deviating from the subject, people. We were talking about how to off my mom,
remember?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Tate
waved around. “That’s easy. We bring her here, lock her in the sauna, and turn
it to high.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“It
won’t work. She’s from LA. And she lived in </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Georgia</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> for a while, chasing after some
crocodile hunter. The heat’s nothing for her.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Or now
that we have plenty of props,” Holly said with a wink, “we could plant Tate’s
dance pole somewhere in the forest and cuff Martha to it. Leave her for the
wolves.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Poor
wolves. Her mother would have them committing suicide in no time. Christy
couldn’t do that to them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Must be
a simpler way. Can’t you just send her to hell?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
shrugged. It was easier said than done. Her mom had the nasty habit of doing
something nice whenever Christy was reaching critical mass. She couldn’t send
her to hell in good conscience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
girls couldn’t understand. Annie had a kick-ass mom. Tate too. Holly’s she didn’t
know, but the messages between mother and daughter were hilarious, so she
imagined their relationship was solid. People with great parents had no clue
how difficult it was to deal with bad ones.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How
long until she leaves?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Still a
while. Thirteen days, nine hours”—Christy reached for her cell—“twenty-five
minutes and thirty-five seconds, to be exact.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
chuckled. “You keeping track?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I have
a countdown set.” Every twenty-four hours, an app sent her a yay-you-can-do-this
message. “She’s leaving four days before Valentine’s Day. She wants to be in LA
then, so that she can prepare for it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Four
days in advance?” Holly asked. “What’s she planning on doing for her husband?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“For
Fred? Nothing. She goes to make sure he gets her all that she wants.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Oh
boy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You can
say that again. How he puts up with her, I don’t know.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her
smile-accept-and-walk-away technique was failing her big-time now that they
were both under the same roof. Or maybe it was that she had gotten a taste for
normal and supportive with Cole, and going back to mental was hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“We
should call Fred and get some pointers,” Holly suggested. “Thirteen days is a long
time. Spending your and Cole’s first Valentine’s Day in jail wouldn’t be too
much fun.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Run to
Vegas ahead of schedule. You’re going there anyway for your annual convention,
right?” Annie asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Tate
frowned. “What convention?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“The geeky
version of Valentine’s,” Annie said. “I was there once with her. Memorable. Not
going ever again.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
rolled her eyes and turned to Holly and Tate. “There’s a <i>Star Trek</i>
convention held in Vegas the weekend before Valentine’s every year.” Plus this
year they had the premiere of a new <i>Star Trek</i> movie. “And no, I’m not
going. Cole wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that. I’ve been dropping
hints about it for a couple of months already, but he isn’t biting.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Holly
patted her on the arm. “So no hanging out with your nerdy friends and stuck
with your mom. That sucks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Yep.
Totally.</span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-11089984592880064612015-02-17T12:42:00.000-08:002015-02-17T12:42:46.281-08:00ANNIE AND MAX'S FIRST VALENTINE'S: BONUS SCENE!!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8uBwdWsWWxR2JW898aUKE7uOloyt8ezvYUgufPOpt2IfSqkUeAGKXcb4qWqx-n3HwIMtDJbu0bxajga0nim_-jt-d-ADc5mnTjlw5jMrgIobrbvMsMOeiCmcEUaUHRHALA1MbGEvt4U/s1600/ToTheMax2(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8uBwdWsWWxR2JW898aUKE7uOloyt8ezvYUgufPOpt2IfSqkUeAGKXcb4qWqx-n3HwIMtDJbu0bxajga0nim_-jt-d-ADc5mnTjlw5jMrgIobrbvMsMOeiCmcEUaUHRHALA1MbGEvt4U/s1600/ToTheMax2(2).jpg" height="320" width="220" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Best way to spend Valentine's? Seven and a half months pregnant, on a
Florida beach, looking like a whale among sirens, with your feet so swollen
they seemed floating boats, and watching your sex God of a boyfriend being
ogled and salivated upon by ten-years-younger-than-you, skinny women.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yep, best way ever. Hands down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Max had had to travel to </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Florida</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> for work, and had insisted on Annie
accompanying him. "Insisted" was too mild a word. He'd totally taken
over and made all the arrangements. She'd been presented with a plane ticket
and a "we're leaving tomorrow, pack your swimsuit."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Her man was bossy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She would have wanted to object, but </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Boston</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> in February was no match for </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Florida</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">. The nice weather, the beach. Max
kitesurfing, doing one of his stunts while being filmed. Yummy. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sadly, she wasn't the only one that thought so. Apparently the whole of </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Florida</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">'s female population agreed with
her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When the shooting was about done, Annie stood up from the sun lounger
and tried approaching. Several gorgeous groupies, fluffing out their hair, with
bikinis that left little to imagination, giggling and swaying their hips like
there was no tomorrow, rushed ahead, leaving her in the dust. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Well, what did she expect? Max was gorgeous with that sexy short Mohawk
of his all mussed and his trimmed beard. Tanned. All wet from the sea, his muscles
bulging and glistening, his dark blond hair bleached by the sun. And that
permanent roguish smirk on his face, like he was flirting with life. She'd bet
any-frigging-thing all the women on the beach had their girlie parts tingling,
just from looking at him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">After wrapping things up, Max turned around and moved toward Annie,
smiling. The women in front of her were already breathless, waving at him. He
passed the groupies without a second look and went straight to her, taking her
in his arms and kissing the living wits out of her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"One zero for the whale," she whispered when he let her up for
breath.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"What?" he asked, totally oblivious to the way the groupies
glared and pouted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"You missed a turn. Your fans there thought you were walking to
them."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He snorted. "Don't give a fuck what they thought. I want you. Only
you. Haven't you realized it yet?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yes, she had. The first day of the shooting, Annie would had preferred
to stay behind, intimidated as she was with all the gorgeousness around, but he
hadn't allowed it; he'd kept her by his side, his arm wrapped around her
shoulders. Kissing her and being sweet in front of God and everyone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Lots of jaws had dropped.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"You done?" she whispered to him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Max nodded. "I'm all yours now."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">All hers. She loved the sound of that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"So now what?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"Now we get ready to celebrate Valentine's," he stated.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"Are we celebrating it at the hotel?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"Nope."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"Where then?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"You'll see."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Damn, he'd been so close-lipped about the whole thing. Their kick-ass,
top-of-the-line hotel had been fully paid for until the next morning. And by
the looks of it, they were pulling out all the stops preparing for the event.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"I need to know what to dress for," she insisted. "Beach
picnic? Amusement park? Fancy restaurant? Naked date in the Jacuzzi?" It
could be anything, considering who her Valentine was.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He brushed his lips with hers. "Dress how you want, Ace. You'll be
stunning anyway and everybody will think I'm the luckiest bastard alive for
being allowed to walk by your side. I'm holding you to the naked part for later,
though," he added with a wink. "Now let's get going. We're expected
soon."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Annie was relieved when she noticed Max had on jeans and a T-shirt. If
he would had broken out the tuxedo, she would have been in trouble, seeing as
the only outfits she'd packed were maternity swimsuits and flowy summer dresses.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Once ready, he clasped her hand in his and walked her to the car. At her
inquiring look, he just said, "Trust me. It'll be memorable."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She had no doubt about it. So far, everything with Max had been.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They drove for over an hour. When he parked the car, she looked at her
surroundings and broke into laughter. "The Eternal Sun resort?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He nodded. "I promised you memorable, love. This is the place to
have it, surrounded by couples averaging fifty years of marriage." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She'd heard so much about this place she was giddy with excitement. And
a bit terrified, because there was a crowd at the entrance, already waving at
them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She turned to him. "Are they waiting for us?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He waved back. "Yep. They are all very excited to meet you. We have
a busy schedule, I hear. Bingo. Then romantic dinner. Then dancing under the
stars and poker for the two-left-feet ones."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They had barely made it out of the car when those senior ladies were
hugging and smooching them. Congratulating them on the baby and treating her as
if they'd known her for freaking ever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Bingo was a blast, not to mention the outrageous way those seniors tried
to cheat. Dinner too. The common area had been transformed into a very romantic
outdoors restaurant, with candles and roses and tables for two, but those
seniors didn't believe in privacy, and before they made it to the second
course, most tables had been pushed together, and Annie and Max were eating
with a loud bunch who, in spite of their nosiness, were adorable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Annie'd heard the Bowen brothers were very well liked at the Eternal
Sun, but she had no clue how much.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Everybody there knew him and treated him like he was part of the family.
And Max was so at ease with them too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">By desert Annie's side hurt from laughing so hard. Apparently fifty years
of marriage gave for a lot of Valentine's anecdotes, all of them hilarious. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"I've had all sorts of Valentine's dates, from the totally awesome
to the totally horrendous," Annie whispered into Max's crook after dinner,
as they danced. "Nothing compared to this. This is off the charts."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"Off-the-charts horrendous or off-the-charts awesome?" he
asked, spinning her around to the slow music.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She laughed. "Awesome, of course."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"I'm glad you're pleased." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pleased? They were in the Eternal Sun resort on the dance floor,
surrounded by couples who had been together for more than half a century, yet
they were still holding hands. Cooing at each other. Laughing at each others'
jokes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">"They loved you," Max
continued. "I got the third degree for not bringing you here until
now."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">"You got the third
degree? Because I did too."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">A frown marred his beautiful
face. "What do you mean?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">"I was asked what were my
intentions toward you." Several times, actually, during bingo and dinner. "Everybody
loves you here." They'd been singing Max's praises all night long. And
warning her about hurting him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Max laughed. "And what
are your intentions?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">"Well, I told them I plan
to use you as a sex toy and then dump you to the curb," she joked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">His amused snort was loud and
clear. "You can use me as a sex toy all you want, no objections
whatsoever. You know my cock will always be hard for you, but you won't dump me
to the curb, I won't let you."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The intensity in his words and
his erection pressing against her abraded her senses. Man, even in the middle
of a senior community he could turn her on, just by whispering into her ear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They danced until the wee hours and then, as promised, she ended up
naked in the Jacuzzi. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Best way to spend Valentine's Day? Or any other day of her life for that
matter? With Max. Hands down.</span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-70180091770483367172015-02-11T01:34:00.000-08:002015-02-11T01:34:06.608-08:00TO THE MAX IS LIVE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-27030383801542735882015-02-06T09:54:00.001-08:002015-02-06T09:54:39.202-08:00To The Max - First two chapters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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TO THE MAX <br />
<br />
Hi everyone! To the Max will release on Feb 10th, yay! To celebrate it, here you have the first two chapters. I hope you'll enjoy them. Kisses, Elle<br />
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<h1>
<span lang="EN-US">Chapter One</span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
know, if the idea behind a </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">midnight</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> wedding was to discourage people
from attending, I think we can fairly say it hasn’t worked,” Annie Griffin
heard from behind her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Shit,
busted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
whirled around so fast, she not only got a dizzy spell but almost fell from the
hammock she was sitting on. Thank God someone with a very strong grip reached
out and steadied her. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Wow,
careful there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As she
regained her balance, Annie lifted her gaze to find Max Bowen, the groom’s
younger brother, smirking at her. She brought her hand to her thumping heart. “Jeez,
you scared me, Max.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Sorry,”
he said, his light eyes sparkling with amusement. “What are you doing here?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They
were in the unlit part of the backyard, as far away from the wedding reception
as possible without actually leaving the Bowens’ property.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m in
hiding. Go away.” She shooed him, peeking around to make sure no one had followed
him. “You always have a string of girls attached to your hip. Soon they’re all
going to be gathered here giggling, drawing attention, and I don’t want to be found.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her
duties as bridesmaid were done. Tate and James were already on their way to
their honeymoon; she could disappear in good conscience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Hey,”
he complained, sounding offended. “I may need to go into hiding for a while
too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She gave
him a disbelieving look. “You? Why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
loosened his tie and, unfastening the first button of his shirt, sat beside her
on the hammock. “Why? Because my ass has been pinched so many times tonight, I
swear I can barely feel it anymore.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
stifled a giggle. “Your ass is sore?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Like
you wouldn’t believe,” he said, breathing out slowly and running his hand through
his shoulder-length hair.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
locked eyes with him, realizing too late he was smiling less than three inches
away from her face. The sight of him all but knocked the wind out of her. Max
in faded old jeans and a tee was breathtaking. In a tuxedo? A total heart-stopper.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She wasn’t
too fond of blond men, but Max was in a league all his own. With model-perfect
masculine features, wicked blue-green eyes, and his usual weeklong golden
stubble, Max was sexy as hell. Add to his </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Hollywood</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> looks his laid-back disposition,
kick-ass body, and roguish smile, and, well, it was almost impossible not to
drool in his presence. A fact the charming devil knew very well and played to
his full advantage. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie wasn’t
sure how, but she managed to break eye contact. “I think the senior contingent
from Eternal Sun Resort might be the ones primarily responsible for your ass
condition.” She got it that both Mr. Bowen and Tate’s mom lived down there—were
neighbors, in fact—but they should never have told the other residents about
the wedding. The Bowen brothers were popular enough in the greater </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Boston</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> area. No need to bring
reinforcements from the South.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Probably.”
Max pondered for a second and then grinned at her. “I should just count my
lucky stars those ladies are on the short side and can’t reach my nipples, huh?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie burst
into laughter. God, Max was such a clown. Although on that one he might be
right. “I hear they chartered a bus and made regular stops along the way from </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Florida</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> to </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Boston</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> to pick up their granddaughters
and nieces.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And who
could blame them? It was not every day that one of the Bowen brothers tied the
knot. The standard guest plus one had transformed into guest plus ten. Not to
mention the groom’s wedding party, which alone was a sight to behold. All those
hunks in tailored tuxedos, standing tall and proud and yummy. Talk about eye
candy. She must have gotten a couple of extra cavities tonight just from
staring.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
smiled. “That would explain it. This is the first wedding I’ve attended where
there are more people crashing the damn event than actual guests. James should’ve
hired his own security company to guard the place.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He should
have, but judging by the way he’d looked, he’d been so over the moon lately
that he probably hadn’t thought about anything besides putting his ring on Tate’s
finger.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
seemed to be able to read her mind. “Yeah, I know my brother is in married-man
bliss, but there is Cole and me to think about. Well, okay, just me now that
Cole is engaged,” he conceded with a rueful grin. “But seriously, with how
fiercely protective Cole is of Christy, and the mean right hook she’s
developed, I’d say some guests would have thanked him for the extra protection
too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Please.
Christy is a pussycat.” Nevertheless, Annie sure relished the yellowish
remnants of the black eye Rose was still sporting, which, by the way, she’d
totally deserved. A real pity no one had gotten that on video. “And you,
mister, don’t need protection from women.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">If
anything, it was the other way around. He was the ultimate ladies’ man. He’d
never hurt for female attention before, but now with James married and Cole
engaged, Max was getting so much action he was gorging on it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">His
cheeky grin lit his face. “True, under normal circumstances, but that back
there is a bit overwhelming, even for me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
was about to answer, when suddenly Max moved, making the hammock rock like
crazy. “What are you doing?” she squeaked, gripping the net hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Lying
down. I need to give my poor, abused ass a respite. Come on,” he said, patting
the spot near him. “Lie down with me. I don’t bite.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Oh, she
wouldn’t bet on that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
warily eyed the net. Forget the spiky high heels she was wearing and the
skintight bridesmaid’s dress, which was the shit but didn’t allow for much
movement. She’d spent three hours in the beauty salon getting her unruly mop of
hair pinned up and adorned with dozens of tiny white flowers. “If my hairdo
gets tangled in that, I won’t be able to yank it free without looking like the
modern version of Medusa.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Here.”
He stretched out his arm and offered it as a pillow. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie doubted
this was a good idea, but she was so tired. “I’m not that great with hammocks.
I may roll us both over.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m a
professional stuntman. I think I can handle a hammock.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Well, he
had a point there. She’d seen him on the big screen doing the craziest things.
Not to mention his fondness for extreme sports.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’ll
keep us steady,” he insisted. “Come on. You’re messing with the center of
gravity by sitting there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She hesitated
for just a second, then shrugged. “Fine. But I’m not too coordinated. Don’t
come crying to me when we find ourselves on the grass, Mr. Hotshot Stuntman.”
She slowly moved to lie beside him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It was a
two-person hammock, but he was so big and his shoulders were so damn broad, he
took more than his fair share of space. She rested her head on his arm and
tried to keep her body at a distance from his, but he was much heavier and her
whole left side ended up glued to his right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Comfy?”
he asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Actually,
yes, but that was beside the point.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Hmm…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
tried separating herself from him, but gravity and his massive body worked
against her. The more she moved away, the more the net bounced her right back
against Max.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Not
that I’m complaining, but you’re rubbing against me. Anything you want to tell
me, Miss Griffin?” he asked, his words laced with laughter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">This was
the closest she’d ever been to Max. She could feel every flex of his muscles,
his warm breath tickling her face. In spite of herself, his low, deep rumble
and hard body had all her girlie parts tingling, which was so inappropriate on
so many levels, she refused to even think about it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
cleared her throat, trying to sound outraged. “Of course not. Besides, you’re
way too young for me.” Eight years younger. Not to mention that at thirty-five,
Annie was a good decade older than the women Max usually dated.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Sure,
you’re ancient. Now stop squirming, Ace. You’ll break your femur, and at your
age any fracture could be fatal.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She saw
the smirk on his face and went to elbow him, but there was not enough space
between them to get a good jab in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Watch
it. You could easily dislocate a shoulder. I hear all you have to do is sneeze,
and there goes the hip.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Oh
please. Just shut up,” she said, unable to contain her laughter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
hadn’t had much contact with Max before. But since Tate and Holly had started
to hang out together, and Christy and Cole had become an item, the Bowen
brothers and their crew had ceased to be a bunch of gorgeous guys she admired
from afar and had become permanent fixtures in her life. It was hard to get
used to such an overabundance of panty creamers, but she was coping. With the
occasional panic attack, but she was coping.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Chuckling
himself, he pinned her by his side and turned his gaze to the sky. “Settle down
and look up, Ace.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Bossy
guy, she thought, but she found herself obliging him. “Wow,” she whispered as
she took in the view.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Everything
looks better from a hammock, doesn’t it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It sure
did. “I’m going to take one to the Friday-night outdoor movie instead of
sitting on those wooden chairs. The Arnie marathon they’re running won’t be
better, but at least the hammock will improve my viewing experience.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I hear
they’re preparing a Mel Gibson marathon for next year.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“That’s
marginally better.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">His low
voice rumbled in the night. “How do you figure that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“More
rom-coms, less commando crap. Plus, I could stand to see his milky-white ass again
in <i>Braveheart</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She felt
him turn to her and shake his head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
lowered a foot to the ground and kicked, gently rocking the hammock. They lay
there in silence for a long while, enjoying the view. She should have been more
freaked about being there with Max Bowen, but the truth of the matter was she
didn’t have the energy to get herself worked up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It had
been a very hectic day. The wedding had been beautiful, and everything had gone
according to plan—more or less—but it had been taxing. For a while she’d felt
dizzy and out of breath from the excitement and the place being packed. And
then there had been the cake. Annie loved cake, even risqué ones, but she must
have eaten the poisoned piece intended for Tate—or Christy—because, boy, the
little sucker had repeated on her. Now though, away from the crowd, her gaze on
the black sky, gently rocking, she felt totally relaxed and at ease.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“The
wedding was beautiful,” she said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Aunt
Maggie and Tate’s mom really thought of everything.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Except
for the electrified fence around the yard.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
chuckled. “Yes, except for that. I could have done without the impromptu conga
line during the reception too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Come
on, Max, you rocked the conga line.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It had
been one of the highlights of the night, second only to seeing Tate all but run
down the aisle and kiss the living daylights out of James before the priest had
gotten a word in, that amazing green dragon tattoo swirling on the small of her
totally exposed back. Ah, and the dance of the best man and the maid of honor.
There had been so much tension rolling off Jack and Elle, it was palpable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Did you
see Elle’s face when the bouquet hit her on the head?” Annie asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
nodded. “Epic. I hope the photographer got it. That picture is so going to the
wall of fame in Rosita’s.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Elle hadn’t
looked happy the bouquet had defied physics, changed trajectory in midair, and
landed on her head while she’d been standing beside her date—Kai, a gorgeous
Japanese American full of tattoos. Jack hadn’t looked much happier either. It
wasn’t clear if his displeasure had to do with Kai or the bouquet. Both,
probably. Not that Jack himself could talk, considering the exuberant blonde he’d
had perched on his arm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“So, why
are you in hiding?” Max asked, turning his captivating gaze on her and
disrupting all her thoughts. God, the guy was stunning. And this close, there
was all the olfactory and tactile data to deal with. Even in his relaxed
position, Max oozed masculinity and testosterone. His smell, a mixture of
aftershave, clean sweat, and a hint of tobacco from the cigar James had given
him, was so male it gave her goose bumps. She couldn’t explain it, but to her,
Max smelled like summer and sunshine. Even now, in the middle of the night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
sighed and turned her face up to the sky. “I’ve been in the dating arena long
enough to know that when your date starts talking about himself in the third
person, it’s time to hide.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
hammock shook with his muffled laughter. His hard body too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Not to
mention the more he drinks, the more arms he grows. And the more his eyes bulge
every time he sees a pair of boobs. It’s bad enough that he’s spent the last
two hours talking to my nipples, but ogling other women’s goodies on top of
that? Gross.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Steven
was a coworker from her office. She’d gone out with him once this past month.
The first date hadn’t turned out too horribly, so she’d given it a second try.
Bad, bad idea.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He tsked.
“Moron. Doesn’t he know your goodies are the best?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She felt
her face flame. Then she realized what he was probably referring to. “You’re
talking about the candy basket from the fund-raiser, right?” A couple of weeks
ago, for the annual town fund-raising dinner, her candy shop had donated a
basket of gourmet candy, which Max had bid on and won.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Those
goodies too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">God, he
was such a shameless flirt. Gorgeous, charming, easygoing. Pity when it came to
women, he had the attention span of a hummingbird on crack. Which was
irrelevant, really. Not only was he totally out of her league, but there was
the age difference to contend with. Eight years might not seem like much, but
in mind-sets, they were light years apart. Annie was ready to settle and marry,
and Max was… Well, Max was most definitely not. He wasn’t playing the field; he
owned the damned field.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Behave,”
she admonished him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I am,
Ace. I am,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve been meaning to tell you those
chocolate things were fantastic.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
liked them?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
nodded. “Don’t misunderstand me; traditional candy is great, but this new shit
you’re bringing…mouthwatering.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
smiled, pleased as all hell. She’d inherited the little candy shop in Alden five
years ago, when her mom remarried and moved to Ohio. Annie already had an
office job in Boston, but she hadn’t wanted to close the place down. So she’d
hired a girl to run it during the week, and Annie took care of Saturdays and
the odd afternoons when the girl couldn’t.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The shop
had barely been turning a profit. With the extra salary to foot, Annie had
decided to upgrade the whole concept. Along with jelly beans and candy canes,
she went for a more sophisticated line, sporting gourmet chocolates and
truffles from Brussels, strawberries with champagne and white-chocolate
frosting, and all sorts of products for special occasions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Remember
to come ready to tweet.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
winked at her. “Don’t worry. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, the whole shebang.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
have all of those?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Actually,
no, but I’ll sign up. How did you think of the whole concept?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Honestly?
I didn’t. Christy did.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">One day,
brainstorming while chatting with Christy about how to reach more customers,
her friend had come up with the idea of using Twitter. The shop Sweets had
become Sweets and Tweets, and clients got a discount if they tweeted on the
spot about the goodies they were buying. Word got out about the new products,
and in no time they had people coming from Boston to get their sugar fixes or
to buy treats for special dates. This past Valentine’s Day had been crazy. The
line had gone all the way to the street and around the corner.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
smiled. “My future sister-in-law is a charming geek.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“That
she is.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
and Christy had met in college and had kept in contact ever since. A bit over
six months ago, Christy had taken a sabbatical from her job as a software
engineer and moved temporarily from LA to Alden to get away from her ex-fiancé.
Now she was engaged to Cole Bowen and ran Alden’s library. Funny how things
changed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They
swung in comfortable silence for a while longer. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“So, I
have to ask,” he said after a long pause. “How often do you end up in hiding
during your dates?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
snorted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I’d be hiding in the bathroom
right now if I could be sure that the Women Only sign would stop that
self-absorbed pompous ass from entering.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
was an active dater—an optimist. Yeah, the world was full of frogs, but there
were princes out there. She just had to persevere until she found hers; it was
a matter of probabilities, pure and simple. Easier said than done. A romantic
at heart, she’d always kept faith that everyone got a happily ever after, but
with the luck she’d had lately and all the frogs she’d had to deal with, she’d
begun to suspect “everyone” just didn’t include her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
barked out a laugh. “Self-absorbed pompous ass?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
nodded. “Aka Steven.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
dating the wrong guys.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Didn’t
she know it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Not that
Max would understand her predicament. The guy went through women like most men
went through potato chips, a handful at a time. He charmed girls out of their panties
as if it were an Olympic sport. Nevertheless, Annie hadn’t heard a single
complaint from the female population. Far from it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What
about the stud gala? Did you end up in hiding there too?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
stilled. “How did you know about the gala?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
kidding me? I heard Cole grumbling about you guys buying the gala invitation
for Christy. Then I had to listen Tate complain about not getting one. And then
James growling and threatening Elle with bodily harm if she dared to buy one
for Tate.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
cleared her throat. “That wasn’t a date. But, no, I didn’t end up in hiding
then.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">No,
sir, not at all.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Guys,
what are you doing there?” a woman asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
turned her head to see Christy and Cole approaching.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“His ass
was hurting and he needed to lie down,” Annie blurted, tensing. Under somebody
else’s scrutiny, lying there with Max felt suddenly awkward.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
looked confused. “What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Never
mind,” Annie mumbled, clumsily hauling herself up and out of the hammock. Max
followed her much more gracefully, holding her when her wobbly legs and the
rocking made falling on her face a very distinct possibility.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How’s
it going?” Max asked his brother. “Is the party winding down already?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Cole
looked toward the reception and grimaced. “Nope,” he muttered. Then he turned
to Christy. “We’re eloping.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
smiled widely. “Sure, let’s elope to Vegas.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Cole’s
expression tightened. “I’m not getting hitched by Elvis,” he warned, wrapping
his arm around her shoulders and bringing her front to his side.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Who
said anything about Elvis? I was thinking more along the lines of Captain Kirk.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“So not
happening.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy,
bless her heart, ignored him and smiled even wider. “Or Spock. We could book
the <i>Star Trek</i> package, marry with a Vulcan and a Klingon as witnesses.
And wire the chapel so that our friends could follow the wedding through the
Internet. Wouldn’t that be a blast?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
kissed her hard, then whispered against her lips, “I love you, baby, but no
fucking way.” If his expression was anything to go by, it was a good thing Cole
loved Christy to pieces, because he sure as hell wasn’t a man to be led by his
dick, much less into a <i>Star Trek</i> wedding.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Elope
all you want, but I’m organizing your bachelor party. Imagine all I could do
with Vegas as the backdrop,” Max said, to which Cole grimaced even more
strongly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Here
you are,” Annie heard someone say.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Shit.
Steven, aka Pompous Ass. Her stomach roiled and realization dawned. Oh God, the
spell of sickness she’d experienced during the reception? Apparently it had
nothing to do with the crowded yard or the cake. She’d reached a milestone—her
dates were physically making her sick. Way to go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max came
closer and whispered, “Is this the guy?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
nodded and turned to Steven, who was obnoxiously grinning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Ready
to dance with the king of the night, darling?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He was
now close enough that his sugary smell reached her. Nausea rose in her belly.
Trying not to cringe, she took a step forward, frantic for an excuse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Suddenly,
someone tugged her hand from behind. “Sorry, man,” Max apologized. “The
prettiest girl in this wedding owes me a couple of dances, and I’m ready to
collect.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
twirled her and wound her in, winking. “Let’s give him a show,” he whispered.
Before she could react, Max wrapped one hand around her neck, the other around
her waist. Exaggeratedly bending her backward, he placed his lips over hers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She hadn’t
regained her breath or her bearings when he pulled her up for another spin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Oh
God, too much movement.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m not
feeling good,” she managed to get out. Then she leaned over and threw up all
over Max’s shoes.</span></div>
<div class="AsteriskBreak">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Okay,
spit it out, Annie,” Holly prompted, tapping at the table. “I’m the dispatcher
for the sheriff’s department. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve heard worse. Although,
if memory serves, Ben switching teams on you was a DEFCON3 emergency. I truly
have no clue what possible planetary disaster DEFCON1 could refer to.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
glanced around, making sure they were alone in the terrace. Then, trying not to
hyperventilate, Annie uttered those two tiny words, the ones that had her
freaked out of her ever-loving mind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Holly,
Christy, and Sophie gaped at her, totally shocked. Thank God they’d been
sitting; otherwise her friends’ behinds would have had very close encounters
with the floor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Definitely
DEFCON1,” Christy mumbled and Sophie assented.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Pregnant?
What do you mean pregnant?” Holly asked, sounding stupefied.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Pregnant,”
Annie choked out. “As in knocked up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How?
When? Who?” Then, before Annie could answer, not that she was too eager to
answer anyway, Holly continued, “Please don’t tell me it’s Steven’s.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">At least
there was that: a positive side of this whole mess she hadn’t thought of. “Eww.
You nuts? I didn’t have sex with Steven.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her
friends let out a collective sigh of relief. “Thank God,” Holly muttered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
had been about to chide them for even thinking she’d had sex with Steven after
just two dates, but she saw the irony in her predicament and decided to bite
her tongue.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“If it
isn’t his, then…?” Christy asked, motioning with her hand for Annie to go on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
cleared her throat. “Remember the StudsRus.com gala a while back?” she said
with a grimace. “The nice Italian escort I met there? Luigi?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Complete
silence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
had attended the yearly gala in Christy’s place. The most prestigious escort
agency in Boston had hosted it a month ago at the Ritz Carlton downtown. The
girls had managed to buy an invitation for Christy’s birthday, after her vow to
get professionally laid, but once Cole had heard about it, he’d put a damper to
the whole plan. So they had drawn straws, and surprise, surprise, Annie had
won.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
shitting us,” Sophie said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
shook her head. No, she wasn’t shitting them. She wished she were, but she wasn’t.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It had
been a great night. Magical, with all the candlelight, the unending flow of
expensive champagne, and the great company. That it was a masquerade ball had
also added an extra layer of magic and privacy that had been exhilarating.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Apparently
StudsRus.com’s escorts were highly sought after. They traveled all over the
country accompanying clients, some of them very powerful people, to
high-profile events. They were not only gorgeous; they were extremely well
educated and charming. One of the escorts she’d met that night was a
dark-haired, handsome man by the name of Luigi. One thing led to another, and
she most definitely had not ended up hiding in the bathroom.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Holly
cursed. “What about the whole stash of condoms I put in your purse? Didn’t you
think of using them?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I used
condoms; I swear I did.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How
exactly did you use them, sweetheart?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What do
you mean, how did I use them? How does anyone use condoms? Are there so many different
ways of using them?” Annie asked, out of breath, her tone of voice rising. She
was freaking out. Big-time. But all in all, she thought she was entitled to. “I
certainly didn’t put them on my head as new-age hats.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Did it
break?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
shook her head. If it had, she would have gotten the morning-after pill, and
she wouldn’t currently be about to pass out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Are you
sure it’s not a false alarm?” Sophie asked, trying to calm her down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“No
false alarm. Five peed-on sticks and two blood tests confirm it. I’m pregnant
up to my eyeballs,” Annie said as she, very ineffectively, fanned herself with
a napkin. Damn hot flashes. Before she found out about the pregnancy, she’d
been having so many of them, she’d even considered going to the doctor to make
sure she hadn’t entered some sort of freaky early menopause. Wouldn’t that have
been a laugh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How did
this happen?” Holly asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sophie
waved at her. “The usual way?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Not
helping, sweetie.” Holly chastised Sophie with a look and then turned to Annie.
“If you used condoms, how did you get pregnant?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And here
was where it got embarrassing. “It seems there’s an infinitesimal chance of
getting knocked up if you start rolling the condom on, realize it’s inside out,
and then turn it the right way. Drops of precum get onto the outside of the
condom, and voilà, if the semen is of quality and has great mobility, you’re in
deep shit.” Annie looked at them, fidgeting. “I was a bit nervous, and there
wasn’t too much light…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
should have left the logistical details to the pro.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">All the
head shaking she’d done when women in her office got pregnant out of
carelessness, and look at her: knocked up on a technicality.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sophie
whistled. “Wow, some super-duper power sperm those studs have, huh?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Tell me
about it,” Annie muttered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Could
it be someone else’s?” Christy asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“It’s
either Luigi’s or an immaculate conception.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The good
thing about getting laid so seldom was that she could pinpoint the conception
date with 100 percent accuracy, which meant that if her baby was as anal as she
was, he or she should be born in the early hours of March thirty-first.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Holly looked
at her, worried. “I hate to say this, honey, and I know these guys are the best
of the best, but did you get checked for diseases?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Yeah,
no STDs.” That was what she’d done first once she’d found out about her
pregnancy. And hadn’t that been fun, explaining to Alden’s only doctor, the
same one who had treated her all her life, why she needed testing for STDs
right after he told her she was pregnant. “All I got from the superstud is a
baby.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“At
least you had a valid excuse for throwing up on Max the other night,” Christy
said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie cringed
at the memory. Talk about making an ass out of herself. The most sought-after
bachelor in the whole state was being sweet and offering her a way out so she
wouldn’t have to dance with Steven, and what had she done in exchange? She’d
puked her brains out all over his shoes, messing his pants too. Well, on the
flip side, the second she’d started throwing up, her oh-so-attentive date had
all but run in the opposite direction.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max, on
the other hand, had been very nice and understanding. He’d even joked that if
he’d been saddled with a date like Steven, he would’ve been puking too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Does
Luigi know about any of this?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Nope.
And I never got a last name, so I don’t know how to contact him.” Or even if
she wanted to.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
had been dazzled by Luigi, who had been so not what she’d expected. He wasn’t a
young, buff stud with more muscles than brains. No, he was in his mid-to-late
thirties, sophisticated, elegant, and a great conversationalist. She wasn’t a
knockout, but she was pretty enough. And so far her body was holding its own
against gravity and time, if one could ignore the expansionist tendencies of
her ass. Still, Luigi favoring her company had kind of blown her mind. Between
that, the alcohol, and the privacy the masks offered, she’d just let go. In the
morning, though, she’d panicked and, much to her shame, run out on the guy
before he even woke up. How the hell was she supposed to face the proverbial
morning after when she had slept with a professional escort in his spare time?
At least she thought it had been in his spare time. She didn’t even dare
consider he’d been working and she’d stiffed him of his fee. That was just too
much.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“It
seems Italian escorts are in fashion. StudsRus.com has eight Luigis on staff. I’m
going to have to ask them for pictures.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">If the
conversation at the doctor’s had been fun, she shuddered to think about the one
with the stud-agency receptionist.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
might never find Luigi again, and she couldn’t say she felt particularly sorry
about it. After all, she didn’t know the guy. But a man had the right to know
he was a father. And although she didn’t need a husband, the thought of raising
a kid all by herself sucker punched her. Money was not an issue; she had a good
job, the shop was doing well, and she still had the untouched trust fund her
paternal grandparents had created for her. They hadn’t trusted her flighty
father, and thank God for that, because the man was already on his fifth bimbo
wife, who was bleeding him dry like three of her predecessors.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">So
financially she was more than covered, but there were other things to consider.
Some mornings it took her forever to decide whether she wanted to have
cornflakes or honey puffs—how the hell was she going to choose a school for the
kid? He or she would be old enough for junior high by the time Annie had made
up her mind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
know, I somehow envisioned embracing motherhood differently. Not at
thirty-five, without a partner, and knocked up by a gigolo who might or might
not be named Luigi.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">After
all, maybe Luigi was just his stage name.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“It
beats the hell out of a sperm bank, which is what I can see in my future,”
Holly muttered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They
were silent for a while. Then Annie sighed. “I’m so screwed, guys. I’m a
forensic accountant. What do I know about kids?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You own
a candy store. I’d say you’re already ahead,” Christy offered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Well,
there was that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I
should have never gotten up on that flower pot after you,” Annie said to
Christy. “You got the good stuff. I got…backlash.” Annie covered her face with
her hands. “This is so unfair. You and Cole are the ones humping like rabbits
all the time. Me? It was just once. One little screw. Why me? The universe
hates me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
should have suspected there was some mega cosmic catch to it when she’d won
that gala invitation. She never won anything. Ever. On the contrary. She was
that jinxed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Holly
interrupted her mental rant. “Wait a second. What do you mean, only once? Wasn’t
he, you know, up for a rematch?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“It was
good, don’t misunderstand me, but let’s just put it this way: when an
overpriced European escort isn’t working, he starts snoring after the deed.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Are you
sure he was a member of StudsRus.com and not some nutcase impersonating a stud,
like in </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">True Lies</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">?” Sophie asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Oh crap,
she hadn’t thought of that possibility. Annie panicked for a second, then shook
her head. “No, can’t be. He knew everyone there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">True Lies</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">?” Holly repeated.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
know, the waiter in that Arnie movie, the one who got chicks by impersonating a
spy,” Sophie explained.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
frowned. “A waiter? Wasn’t he a car salesman? I—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“People,
people. Concentrate,” Holly interrupted, out of patience. “I told you to quit
with the outdoor movies.” She turned to Annie. “Are you going to keep it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie looked
at her friends. “Forget the fact I’m thirty-five and my clock is ticking. What
are the chances of getting pregnant like this? One in a frigging billion. This
baby hasn’t been born yet, and it’s already a damn superhero. Of course I’m
keeping it.”</span></div>
<h1>
<span lang="EN-US">Chapter Two</span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
entered Sweets and Tweets and drew in a deep breath. Man, if heaven had a
smell, it surely was this. He’d loved this place since he was a little brat.
The endless rows of colorful goodies, the smell of cotton candy. It made his mouth
water every time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He’d
been running with Mike, like every morning, when on his way home, he couldn’t
resist the allure of the shop, especially now that he was soon to leave for
California.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
scanned around. It seemed the kids had decided to sleep in, because it was ten
o’clock on a Saturday and there was no one in the store.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie’s
mom had moved away from Alden several years ago, but for the most part, the
place was still as she’d left it. Painted with vivid and crazy colors, it had a
certain hippie, childish look to it. Although that had perfectly suited Annie’s
mother, it didn’t match her daughter. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
addition at the far end, though—where all the new goodies were elegantly
displayed—had subtle tones and was much more Annie’s style. He wasn’t sure what
she did for a living, but she worked in an office and often wore power suits.
Pearls on her neck and ears. Hair all contained. Even when she threw on some
jeans and a top, she was a far cry from a hippie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
found Annie refilling some containers, her back to him. He smiled to himself.
Of all the changes that having his two older brothers involved with women had
brought, getting to hang out with Annie had been the nicest. He’d always known
her—he had an unrivaled sweet tooth, and her candy shop was the only one in
town—but he had never socialized with her or run in the same crowd. Until now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He moved
toward Annie. “Hi, gorgeous. How are you doing?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
straightened and turned around, her ponytail swaying. She looked…green. And
becoming greener by the second.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Sorry,”
she croaked as she covered her mouth and, reaching for the trash bin near her,
bent over and began throwing up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">O-kay.
Not the reaction he’d been hoping for. Maybe he should have taken a shower
before dropping by.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Before
he could get a word out, she stumbled to the back of the shop, her head never
leaving the inside of the trash can.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
glanced around. Sweets and Tweets was still miraculously empty, so he went to
the entrance, flipped the CLOSED sign, and locked the door. Following the
heaving sounds coming from the back, he made it to the bathroom and knocked on
the half-open door. “Ace, you okay?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He heard
a feeble “Yeah.” Worried, he peeked in. Annie was on her knees, leaning on the
toilet seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d stopped puking and
was flushing it. The trash bin by her side was already empty.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
moved to the sink, filled a glass with water, and handed it to her along with a
towel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Thanks,”
she mumbled after she rinsed her mouth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She wasn’t
green anymore, but she didn’t look much better. She was white as a sheet, the
hair around her temples wet from sweat, her eyes red and watery.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He was about
to help her up, but she leaned her forehead on the seat and sighed. She didn’t
seem ready to move, so Max sat on the floor beside her, his back to the wall,
his arms on his knees. “This is the second time you’ve thrown up on me. I’m
going to start taking it personally. Thank God I’m not a sympathetic puker,
huh? Otherwise we’d both be in so much trouble.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
attempted a smile, brushing some strands of hair away from her face. “Technically,
I didn’t puke on you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“True.
Just lost your breakfast at the sight of me.” Which wasn’t much more
flattering.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie blushed.
“It’s not you. I’ve developed a sudden allergy to sweets.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Really?
Since when?” Because in his mind, Annie equated with sweets. Hell, the whole
woman smelled like marshmallows and candy apples.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Since I
have a picky fetus inside of me,” she muttered low, almost as if to herself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">What?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Come
again?” he asked, trying his damnedest not to choke on his words. Surely he’d
misunderstood her. She hadn’t said <i>fetus</i>, had she?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her
faint blush intensified, giving a bit more color to her face. “I’m…umm…pregnant,”
she said with chagrin, as if she’d blurted the earlier comment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Oh.
Congratulations.” She looked miserable, so he reconsidered. “Is this good news
or bad news?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
sighed. “Good news. Just a bit unexpected. Please don’t say anything to anyone.
Only the girls know for now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
nodded and raked his brain. Apart from that bozo from the wedding, he didn’t
remember seeing her with anyone. “Do I know the father?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“There’s
no father.” She cleared her throat and then backtracked. “Well, there is a
father, obviously, but I’m doing this alone. Probably.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“His
loss,” he growled, holding her gaze. “If he lets you do this alone, then you’re
better off without him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie murmured,
“Thanks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“So this
is what morning sickness looks like, right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
snorted. “Morning sickness, my butt. I’m sick all the time. Specially when I
come to the shop. The damn smell is killing me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Huh.</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> Max didn’t get it. Sweets and
Tweets was the best-smelling place in the whole wide world. Surely a fetus
should be able to appreciate it. “What smell?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Expectant
mothers get sick from strong or bitter smells. Me? I get sick from sweet ones.
How much more unlucky can I get?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
looked at her, all disheveled, sitting on the floor and still hugging the
toilet seat, and had to laugh. “Well, keeping in mind you do own a candy store,
not much more unlucky.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m
able to go without puking now because your smell is somehow blocking the ones
coming from the shop, but I’ll bet the second you leave and I have to go back
out there, I’m going to be on my knees again. My abs hurt from throwing up.
Well, heaving, because there’s really nothing else to throw up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Poor
Annie. She looked so miserable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
turned his face to his armpit. “You got it backward. I stink. I probably
shouldn’t have come straight from my run.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You don’t
stink. You smell…manly,” she finished.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Like
sweat.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You don’t
smell like sweat. Not like disgusting sweat, I mean. But like man’s sweat. I
mean—” She was babbling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I get
it, Ace,” he said with a chuckle. “What about the girl who takes care of the
shop during the week? Can’t she come on Saturdays?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Megan
can’t make it on Saturdays. Plus she has school a couple of afternoons too. I’m
going to hire someone, if I can keep my head out of the toilet that long, but
so far it’s just me. Holly, Sophie, and Christy have been helping, taking turns
being here, but today none of them could come.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Really?”
Because he doubted very much Christy would be too busy to lend a hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Well,
no. Holly and Sophie were going to Boston, and Christy doesn’t get many
Saturdays free from the library. They’ve been doing so much, I didn’t want them
changing their plans to be here, so I sort of lied and told them I got someone
to cover for me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Ah, that
was more like it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Let’s
just close for the day and get you home, Ace. You’re in no condition to be
here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
shook her head. “Can’t leave. Kids are due at noon. For many, today is candy
day. I don’t want to disappoint them. And Sam and Kyra will be dropping by to
get provisions for their pizza night.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max couldn’t
stifle his snort. “I can’t speak for Kyra and Sam, but I’m sure Mike can do
without those. As a matter of fact, he might even thank you. And we can’t have
the owner puking all over the patrons. They may take offense.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I know.
Still…” She sighed, not looking that excited about closing up and getting the
hell out of there. “Staying home is almost as bad,” she confessed. “My condo is
being renovated, and those smells are killing me too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“The
fire in the clubhouse. The faulty wiring, right?” Max remembered Cole talking
about having to shoehorn that job into their already busy schedule. The complex
where Annie lived had been in dire need of a face-lift and some new plumbing,
but the management had been dragging their feet for a while.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
nodded. “They had an origami lecture that evening, and the whole place was full
of paper, so a spark and it went up in flames. On the plus side, the fire got
management into gear. And it was about time. Last week, my next-door neighbor
almost fell walking down the stairs when the step gave way. Thank God Thelma
had great reflexes. If it had been me, I would’ve killed myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
tried to hide his amusement. “You mean Thelma from the gift shop? The lady in
her late sixties with a knee replacement?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
rolled her eyes, and suddenly Max noticed how expressive they were. “I know.
But it’s true. All the seniors in my complex are in great shape. They take Mike’s
self-defense classes. And they’re constantly organizing dance marathons. I’m
not even sure they sleep; that’s how someone noticed the smoke in the
clubhouse. Me? I was totally out. Anyhow, now I find myself in the middle of a
rather massive renovation, throwing up all the time.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You can’t
be sick day in and day out.” He had no clue about pregnant women, but barfing her
guts out nonstop couldn’t be good for her or the baby.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Yeah, I
know. I’m going to get a room in the motel. My place should be ready in a month
and a half. Two months tops.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The hell
she would. Two months in Alden’s only motel was too long. The place was clean
but not really comfortable. It was located outside of town, close to Bottoms
Up, a strip joint in a deserted lot, and it saw a lot of action of the dubious
kind. Annie there? No fucking way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Alden’s
cute B&B was temporarily closed, so the only other option was the upscale
club resort several miles away, but that hotel was always booked to the max
with conventions and other activities for clients from Boston who wanted to escape
from the city without being too far away from its amenities. Not to mention
that a couple of months there would cost a mint. Scratch that. Two months there
would make four years’ worth of student loans look like a joke.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie,
oblivious to his thoughts, kept talking. “Christy asked me to move in with her
and Cole, but no way am I going to be a third wheel. Sophie’s trying to
reconcile with her ex-husband, so that’s a no go, and Holly lives in my complex
too. She’s moving in with her cousin and asked me to go with her, but Holly,
bless her heart, is a total slob. After two days I’d be ready to hang myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How
long does this morning sickness last?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Supposedly
only the first trimester. I’m two months pregnant, so just one more month.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I may
have a solution for your accommodation troubles.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She scowled
at him. “I’m not moving in with your aunt. She’ll smell my condition a mile
away.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Probably.
Max shook his head. “Move in with me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“In a
couple of days, I’ll be off filming, first at the studio and then on location.
After that I plan to go to the Rocky Mountains for several weeks. I miss the
action. I spent the whole summer here. I’m getting itchy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
frowned. “Weren’t you somewhere just a couple of months ago?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Yes, ma’am.
I was in Pamplona, Spain. Running in front of the bulls for the San Fermín
festival.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
lifted her eyebrows. “What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">“Los Sanfermines</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> is a festival that lasts a week
starting July seventh. Every morning at eight o’clock sharp, they let six bulls
loose in the city. You run in front of them and try to reach the bullring
before getting overrun by them. Or horned. Or crushed under a mountain of guys
when someone falls. Plain old fun. My dad did it. My bros too. In my family,
being chased by bulls is a rite of passage.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie’s
shoulders shook with laughter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Of
course, after the <i>encierro</i>—that’s what running with the bulls is
called—everyone spends the day partying and drinking. The night too. Imagine
how difficult it is to run next day at eight. Damn complicated to pinpoint six
angry bulls chasing you when you’re seeing twelve.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
was now giggling wholeheartedly. He loved to make her laugh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
watched her. She was very pretty, in an understated sort of way. Brown hair, huge
hazel eyes. Killer lips. She never wore flashy clothes and wasn’t big on makeup.
Nor did she put her boobs out there for everyone to gawk at, like most of the
girls he hooked up with. Nevertheless, once you looked at her face and she
granted you one of her sweet smiles, you did notice her. Big-time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
kidding me,” she got out between gasps.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Nope.
By the end of the week, if you haven’t been hospitalized from alcohol poisoning
or lost your balls from a goring, you’re a man.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Of
course, it wasn’t like that. The people who came to Pamplona to drink and party
saw the encierros from behind protective fences or from the local bar. And one
of the strict rules for running was not to be under the influence, but making
Annie laugh was worth a few exaggerations.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Somehow
I don’t see Cole doing something that crazy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Well,”
he conceded, “I heard Cole ran once and then went to the city committee with a
list of security concerns and how they should implement changes. I believe the
city authorities declared him persona non grata permanently. All Bowen men
travel to Pamplona when they’re of age. I’ve already gone several times.” Annie
looked at him questioningly, and he shrugged. “What? I might have issues about
becoming a man.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
nuts,” Annie concluded when she got her giggles under control.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
grinned. “I keep busy. Anyhow, I’ll be away two months all in all. More than
time enough for your morning-afternoon-evening sickness to go away.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“It’s
very nice of you, but I couldn’t—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Sure
you could. You’d have the place all to yourself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She was
shaking her head, her smile apologetic. “Really, thank you very much, but—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Besides,
I need someone to look after my pets.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
stopped shaking her head. “You have pets?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Yep.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He didn’t
elaborate, and she cringed. “What kind?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“The fun
kind, of course.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
didn’t seem that convinced. “I don’t do well with reptiles, Max. Or bugs. As a
matter of fact, I don’t do well with fish either. I think they’re creepy. The
way they look at you and open their mouth hypnotically. It feels like they know
something we don’t and the ones inside the bowl are us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
laughed. Jeez, Annie was funny. He wasn’t sure why he’d offered her his house.
The thought just formed in his head, and once it was there, he hadn’t wanted to
let it go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“No
reptiles. You’ll love Tango and Cash. And you’d be doing me a huge favor.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m
terrible with animals. Can’t you leave them with your aunt?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Nope. Last
time I did, her cat upset them.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“And
your brother?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Cole
isn’t too crazy about them.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“A
neighbor?” she fumbled desperately.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
snorted. “Excuse me. Have you met my neighbor Wilma, Original Grandma
extraordinaire?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
wiggled his brows and she laughed at his antics. “True.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“So you
see, I do need you to stay at my place and watch Tango and Cash,” he lied. He
could actually leave his pets with any number of people, all of whom would be
happy to have them or to stop by and keep an eye on them. But Annie struck him
as the kind of person who wouldn’t agree to living in his house for free. And
no way in hell was he asking her for money. “By the time I return, the
renovating at your place will be done and you’ll be ready to move back there.
No biggie.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">By the
look in her face, it was the mother of all biggies. “Thanks, Max. But I have to
decline. It’s too much. And I’m sure you can find a better-qualified pet sitter
than me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I don’t
leave Tango and Cash with just anyone. Think about it. There’s a big plus: the
whole house smells like me. You would get the benefit of a throw-up-free zone
without having to put up with me. What do you have to lose? It’s a win-win
situation.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“This is
extremely sweet of you, really, but I can’t take you up on your offer.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
might have been sick, but easily swayable she wasn’t, at least not in this
matter, so he decided not to push the issue. “Okay. If you change your mind,
let me know. Now, first things first: you done?” he asked resolutely, standing
and signaling toward the toilet, which she was still hugging.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
pondered for a second. “I think so.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Good.”
He helped her up. “This is what we’re going to do. We’ll gather your things and
close the shop. I’ll go home, take a quick shower, and come back to open this
place so your kids won’t be disappointed and we can contribute to expanding
Mike’s ulcer. I just need a crash course on how to work your cash register, and
we’re on.” Although if he could manage the one at Tate’s restaurant, which was
a relic her father had inherited from his father, he was sure this would be a
piece of cake.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
wasn’t moving.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Come
on. If you don’t want to go home, you’re welcome to stay at my place. Either
way, you’re out of here. Unless, of course, you want me to rat you out to
Christy?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
shook her head. No, he bet she wouldn’t want that. “Max, you can’t spend your
morning—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Are
your workers allowed to sample the products while in the shop?” he interrupted
her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie assented.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Then I
can spend the morning here, I assure you. A dream come true. Let’s get
cracking.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As he
walked out of the bathroom to the cash register, he heard her heaving. “Ace,
you okay?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">No
answer. He’d left the door open. Guess his smell had worn off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He’d
better bring the cash register to the back.</span></div>
<div class="AsteriskBreak">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">* * * *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
was lying on a lounger in the yard of her complex, near the pool, her work
papers on her lap, when she saw Christy approaching. </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Damn</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">. “He ratted me out, didn’t he?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
frowned. “Who?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Max.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
dragged another lounger to where Annie was and sat beside her. “There was no
need for it. You haven’t been checking your cell, have you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She hadn’t.
She’d forgotten it inside her condo, and she hadn’t felt like braving the
smells to go get it. Especially now that the workers had left and silence
reigned. Besides, Max had assured her he’d have everything under control. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“No.
Why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her
friend fished her own phone out of her pocket and handed it to Annie. At that
very moment, the chime of a message came in. Then another. And another. “It
hasn’t stopped the whole day. It’s crazy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It took
Annie a while to understand what she was looking at. There were hundreds of tweets
on the shop’s Twitter account. She scrolled all the way down. She normally received
notifications of clients tweeting or Facebooking to get the discount. Now all
the messages had the word “Max” in them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Your Twitter’s
on fire. Your Facebook page too. Instagram and Pinterest are in ashes already.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Halloween
has come early, my friend. Your shop is full to the brim. People are all but
fighting to get in. Not sure about Alden’s policy, but Sweets and Tweets is way
over its capacity. Expect a visit from the sheriff soon. Oh, and be ready for
Facebook jail because of the obscene remarks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">God, and
she’d told Max there wouldn’t be too many clients aside from the kids.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He’d
been such a sweetheart. He’d plugged an extension cord into the cash register and
brought it to the bathroom—not the back office, which was currently doubling as
storage and reeked of sweets to high heaven. Then he’d sat with her on the
floor and learned to use it. He’d even managed to make her laugh, which, given
the circumstances, had been a miracle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He’d
turned broody when she refused to let him take her to Christy and Cole’s or to
his place. He hadn’t liked it at all, only relenting when she promised him she
was going to be in the yard and that the workers would be stopping early for
the weekend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What’s
going on? Is Max giving my candy away?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
laughed. “Please, girl. Max <i>is</i> the candy. I’m telling you, you get him
to work there a couple of days per month, and you’re set for life. Not that you
need the money. Just saying.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Two more
messages. Annie logged in to Facebook. Oh God. She handed the phone back to her
friend. “I should go rescue him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
kidding? He’s having a field day. He was laughing and flirting with everyone
when I rushed there to see what was going on. And for your information, he didn’t
rat you out—not right away. I had to drag it out of him. You know I’m a tough
cookie.” Yes, she was. That was why Christy could hold her own when dealing
with Cole. “Why didn’t you tell me Megan couldn’t work today? I could have
taken her place.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
spend too much time there as it is.” Annie knew how hard it was for Christy to
be around sugar, having struggled with emotional eating all her life. “And you
didn’t have to come.” She waved Christy off. “Go back to your fiancé. Enjoy
your free day.” Mrs. Wilkinson at the library was still having difficulties with
the e-collections and was driving Christy into the ground. Her friend deserved a
day off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy,
of course, ignored her. “No, and you’re right; I didn’t have to come. Because
you were supposed to come to me. And stay with me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Yeah,
and I’m sure Cole would appreciate having me there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Of
course he has no problem with you staying with us, honey. As a matter of fact,
if he knew that you’re sick and why, he’d probably be here packing your stuff.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">That</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> Annie could believe. And that was exactly
why she’d sworn her friend to secrecy. She had enough trouble as it was making
sense of the whole thing. She was still amazed she’d blurted it to Max, but
somehow it had felt right. Natural. “Not gonna happen. Not moving in with you
guys.” Cole and Christy were starting their life together, and she refused to
be a third wheel. A third, vomiting-all-the-time wheel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
huffed. “You’re so stubborn. Damn that the landlord just rented my old apartment.
That would have been perfect. What about moving temporarily to your dad’s?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
gave her a you’re-joking look. Like she was going to that place with the wife
du jour and the ex-wives fluttering around, with their fake Botox smiles and
their calculating, greedy eyes when they thought no one was watching. Although
Barbara, the current trophy wife, was somehow more likable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her mom
and Larry were several states away. And happily clueless about the whole
pregnancy thing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I know,”
Christy mumbled, reading her expression perfectly. “The club resort?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
lifted her shoulders. That was one option, although two months there would be
hard to bear. An overdose of entitled socialites would probably kill her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Well,
Mrs. Wilkinson is thinking about renting a room.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Nope.
She’ll realize right away I’m pregnant, and I’m not ready for everyone to know
yet. Besides, she doesn’t like me. Since I joined the romance book club, she
looks at me funny.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
chuckled. “She looks at me funny too. Scratch that; she looks at me horrified.
She already thought I was from another planet for introducing the digital
collections and suggesting we reduce the paper copies. Diving into the world of
cliterature and taking Alden’s women with me is just the last straw.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Mrs.
Patty’s incident didn’t help.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
romance book club had kicked off with half the town signed up. But when Mrs.
Patty, the lady in charge at the Salvation Army, had to be rushed to the
hospital while still clutching her e-reader to her chest, Christy decided to
separate the club into two groups based on reading preferences. And heart
condition.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Which
reminds me, we’re starting a new book,” Christy added.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They
were supposed to be reading a book per month, but they’d polished off the first
one in a week.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Really?
What now?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
wiggled her eyebrows. “One word: Highlanders.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Lord. Horrible
timing to sign up for a cliterature book club. She was suffering enough as it
was with the hot flashes, without having to read about mouthwatering ancient
warriors whose swords weren’t their only diamond-hard accessories.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Several
more messages hit the phone. Christy checked them. “More of the same. Max is
causing havoc. Not even Cole scowling by his side is deterring the women.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Cole is
scowling by his side?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
nodded. “We were together when my phone went bonkers. Pity James is still on
his honeymoon. If you could get the three Bowen brothers working in the shop,
man, that would be a sight to behold.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How are
things going with Cole?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">A smile
tugged at Christy’s lips. “Things are great.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
loved how her friend’s face went soft when she talked about Cole. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
a brave woman.” Cole was a force to be reckoned with. Scary.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Nah, he’s
a total softie. Haven’t you seen the way Max pesters him?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You know,”
Annie started, “Max offered me his house. He’s going to be away for a while
filming. He said I could stay there and take care of his pets.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Christy
was taken aback. “Max has pets? I had no idea.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Apparently.
It doesn’t really matter though, because I can’t take him up on it. It’s too
much.” She wasn’t used to being indebted to anyone to such an extent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max
lived by the lake—not on the newly developed side but on the old one, in a
gorgeous Victorian house he’d totally renovated.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Why? It’s
a great solution,” Christy said. “Besides, who will look after the pets?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You
serious? Any of his groupies.” He’d just have to mention it or tweet about it,
and a thousand volunteers would offer, never mind what kind of hellhounds Tango
and Cash were.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">At that
moment, a woman dressed in expensive clothes entered the yard. She pulled her
sunglasses up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Barbara,
what are you doing here?” Annie asked, surprised.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her father’s
current wife didn’t answer right away. She was too busy gawking at her
surroundings and trying to avoid the piles of material that the workers had
left scattered all over the place. “I came to the club for my tennis lesson,
and I thought to get those champagne strawberries your dad likes so much. I
couldn’t even get in your store. Total mayhem, so I decided to check up on you.
What’s going on? And why does this condo look like a work site?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Store
is fine. A very popular friend of mine is tending to it. And the complex is
being renovated after faulty wiring caused a fire.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Barbara
scrunched her beautifully sculpted nose job. “Forget renovate. They should
bring it down.” She stepped on some cables with her Blahniks, almost losing her
footing. “This is a mess. Please don’t tell me you’re staying here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Well…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You can’t
stay here. You have to come to the estate.” She motioned to the piled
materials. “This place was bad enough as it was before. Now it’s downright
inhuman.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Annie
rolled her eyes. Most of her neighbors were staying. Yes, it was annoying and
exasperating to reside in a work site, but come on. Some people survived in
much, much worse conditions. On the other hand, Barbara lived in a mansion, so
yeah, to her this was probably the Gulag.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
tried derailing her attention. “Barbara, this is Christy, my dear friend from
college. Christy, this is Barbara, my dad’s wife.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
woman glanced at Christy, offered her a quick smile and a nice-to-meet-you, and
then zeroed back in on Annie. “How come you didn’t tell us you needed a place
to stay?” she asked, sounding outraged, arms crossed under her gravity-defying,
barely two-year-old silicone boobs. “By the way, you don’t look well. Are you sick?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Just
tired,” Annie hurried to answer. She didn’t want people to know about her
pregnancy, especially her dad’s side of the family.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Although
no wonder,” Barbara continued, glancing around with a sneer. “Living here would
make anyone sick. Shall I send someone to pack your things? Your dad would love
to have you at the estate.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Really?
Because Annie was positive he wouldn’t notice her presence. Or lack thereof.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Thanks,
but no. I’ve already made other arrangements.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It took
a bit of insisting before Barbara gave up and left.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Other
arrangements?” Christy asked when they were alone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m
moving in with Holly and her cousin. It’s just a couple of months. How bad can
it be?”</span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-71222240156778357472014-04-14T00:49:00.001-07:002014-04-14T10:30:14.296-07:00Deep Down Blog Tour April 14th - 25th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: red;">Hi everyone! Deep Down's blog tour is kicking off. Excerpts, reviews, and giveaways from over 50 blogs. I will be posting the links here. Don't miss it!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">April 14th:</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">The Danish bookaholic: <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fthedanishbookaholic.wordpress.com%2F2014%2F04%2F14%2Fb-log-tour-deep-down-the-ogs-1-by-elle-aycart-my-review-excerpt-giveaway%2F&h=-AQHgLdzO&enc=AZOhn892qmaE5eHpfQx9tYI2TNgy2jPL-9ZtGZohiGv_BZM5fwTrVpH4mtkxds6L-YmZXPL0xGh-LbiCD3FOXcvhejrix0ow82nTOEpjEIoLppjOqQ9zEfL0rYHWHnlmDwBN15f9U5q53f0EeOm-oDLSI56l3xswGXK4rkMEUO4PaQ&s=1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://thedanishbookaholic.wordpress.com/2014/04/14/b-log-tour-deep-down-the-ogs-1-by-elle-aycart-my-review-excerpt-giveaway/</a><br /> Waves of fiction: <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwavesoffiction.blogspot.fi%2F2014%2F04%2Fblog-tour-review-giveaway-deep-down-by.html&h=qAQEzTeD0&enc=AZPOVEAsOMGKxrBGyHkyRveQrBFdzG9LoG303QF-04FWontjMa-wfzSW_zIXrD32XF_jFXuHXSTiqYA2hussrBO3LMtfNCooUjhX9NTgNGhwen-40UXeDE1IymQOul7QvGB2_YyuWwDdPFM8VAfZ-DL8N3LLL75yAeRyYQ655ZbQ0A&s=1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://wavesoffiction.blogspot.fi/2014/04/blog-tour-review-giveaway-deep-down-by.html</a><br /> Lustful literature: <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Flustfulliterature.com%2Fdeep-down-by-elle-aycart-blog-tour-giveaway%2F&h=yAQE053Z9&enc=AZPP0-RjLg-ZOfmXNldsgR3_gBzxrfvHUalTLgLqUg4TfgZqoWnFtI3GOSsYfMRdHnLvW6_KMVR750slCnxtHLEN9T4QVf16QWnlGA83H3arJg2Wa-zp_tvUucl3DZWjOgpMYSHasqA-i7FzXv-dAOm_6lJ36nB4py1reK6FzcnMAg&s=1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://lustfulliterature.com/deep-down-by-elle-aycart-blog-tour-giveaway/</a><br /> The book blog: <a href="http://www.thebookblog1.blogspot.fi/2014/04/blog-tour-stop-and-giveaway-deep-down.html?zx=a714cdf4e2c33a7c" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.thebookblog1.blogspot.fi/2014/04/blog-tour-stop-and-giveaway-deep-down.html?zx=a714cdf4e2c33a7c</a><br /> A is for Alpha, B is for Books:<br /> <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fa4alphab4books.blogspot.com.au%2F2014%2F04%2Freview-blog-tour-giveaway-deep-down-ogs.html%3Fzx%3D539a3328e98b2c0d&h=tAQFPEdFV&enc=AZMLlT2vFc8_Dv-Ho6jasccv_p5c6-jSDtrNY5qCLDEYGgtjhLGX3xeUQ_u7RIsaQ5cgzlmmhAv4XIQbYcNXpMwndEL23P-nZx0NkkONiI_1sTSYmho-0r1rFfx1GQ-ToTrxM3mad86wHsGAbxcU5f2lgoEx0KlIehsONkDR64kLYA&s=1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://a4alphab4books.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/review-blog-tour-giveaway-deep-down-ogs.html?zx=539a3328e98b2c0d</a><br /> Sizzling Pages: <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.sizzlingpages.com%2F2014%2F04%2Fblog-tour-deep-down-ogs-1-by-elle-aycart.html%3Fzx%3Dc8ce15f637ebae94&h=bAQEAyIYw&enc=AZP2ZrjcDxgXQyU45XNshhIKaepBKMfBc4TEArCttxaHUaeFxykBPerBtsBgJOq9NHLxz0iWxclmHcwFCOUa6CDC6hUk4arffgFU_1WJ06HND3FwVYSfDFJ-oWMaCsT06Aly0b71mUinXmFGVMnQXpC2ylDIiin5nPLwKU013bx4xQ&s=1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.sizzlingpages.com/2014/04/blog-tour-deep-down-ogs-1-by-elle-aycart.html?zx=c8ce15f637ebae94</a> </span>Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-74150561653562396952014-03-10T05:33:00.001-07:002014-03-10T05:33:11.059-07:00Bowen series - price dropHello everyone!<br />
Max's book is coming out next, probably sometime during the summer. To celebrate its future release and the release of Deep Down, the first installment of the OGs' series, Inked Ever After is now at a permanent price tag of $4.99 in Amazon, so for all of you who didn't read the final installment of James and Tate's love story, now's your chance:<br />
<br />
http://www.amazon.com/Inked-Ever-After-ebook/dp/B00C1LFF6A%3FSubscriptionId%3DAKIAJBDF5XQBATGDX4VQ%26tag%3Dspea06-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB00C1LFF6A<br />
<br />
For all of you in the UK, More Than Meets the Ink and Heavy Issues are below 3 GBP for the first time ever. Inked Ever After is priced at 3.07 !!<br />
<br />
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Elle-Aycart/e/B007XIZJ26/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1<br />
<br />
Please share with your friends, and I hope you'll enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them :-)<br />
<br />
Kisses,<br />
Elle Aycart<br />
<br />Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-79632175464189534022014-02-18T00:33:00.001-08:002014-02-18T00:33:19.339-08:00Deep Down Blog Tour April 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ca3Z-11KsHZxvZWjOOT6Lv9Nf4Q2DEzUmRHuhdBllosvzyAmCh6huDkn2r4ZJ5BVyAD7h6uIOl6Kp0Xg3ZtOv4aTm0MrqtB24GVNMjD3GfjxeQAnHcj-SRwY1T4lZ-eD1ZMEEe_KfPA/s1600/ElleAyecart_DeepDown_coverin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ca3Z-11KsHZxvZWjOOT6Lv9Nf4Q2DEzUmRHuhdBllosvzyAmCh6huDkn2r4ZJ5BVyAD7h6uIOl6Kp0Xg3ZtOv4aTm0MrqtB24GVNMjD3GfjxeQAnHcj-SRwY1T4lZ-eD1ZMEEe_KfPA/s1600/ElleAyecart_DeepDown_coverin.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
You want to review Deep Down? Or interview a character from the book? Or maybe the author?<br />
Sign up for the blog tour and you'll get your chance!<br />
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1_myknbwqoWkmx41xuGNOQnEfLF0mrGDI2eOpOft65b4/viewform<br />
<br />
Kisses,<br />
ElleElle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-88315670597545322572014-02-05T01:00:00.000-08:002014-02-05T01:00:28.586-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OLUkwjf34_JdoxuXj_WOTG4dZuc_dC1ghlxPkc7QBTDbgS5gT-DKM016kZS65oaJGhGFC-KIFAYGrCKS1123KLkBhlc77V3LBPdgSmZoDgXqQGJgOQK3ey93xwdpWwzasu_AyeP7jgc/s1600/ElleAyecart_DeepDown_coverin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OLUkwjf34_JdoxuXj_WOTG4dZuc_dC1ghlxPkc7QBTDbgS5gT-DKM016kZS65oaJGhGFC-KIFAYGrCKS1123KLkBhlc77V3LBPdgSmZoDgXqQGJgOQK3ey93xwdpWwzasu_AyeP7jgc/s1600/ElleAyecart_DeepDown_coverin.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;">Here you have <i>Deep Down</i>'s first chapter. The final, edited version. I hope you'll enjoy it. Kisses, Elle</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<h1>
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US">Chapter One</span></span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“This is
a bad idea, Grandma,” Mike said as he walked out of the dressing room at the
community center, wearing nothing but his boxers and an intimidating scowl
that, unfortunately and as usual, had no effect whatsoever on the old lady.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Nonsense.
The girls are anxiously waiting. Let’s roll,” she said as she pushed him forward
and down the corridor.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Scratch
bad. This was a shitty idea.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">His
grandmother was barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds when drenched. How
she got the strength to push his big frame while he was literally dragging his
feet was beyond him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Besides,
you promised you’d do it.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
snorted. “No, I didn’t. I promised I’d help you with your senior courses.
Meaning I’d drive you around, do your shopping, and stuff like that. I didn’t
agree to pose for your male-anatomy painting lessons. You know I’m too busy for
this.” He’d stopped working as a foreman several years ago to run the family
gym full-time with his dad, but last month Cole had taken on the renovation of
the town’s library pro bono, and Mike had volunteered to help. That plus the
gym and the martial-arts classes in the afternoons had taken up all his time.
Fuck it if now that the library was almost ready he was going to invest
whatever was left of the summer in this. “Can’t you guys use, I don’t know, a
statue? Or better yet, a picture. There are plenty of books and—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Live
human-anatomy painting, Mike,” she interrupted, emphasizing the word “live,”
“and one is never too busy to help his grandmother.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Well, it
depended on how nutty the grandmother was, didn’t it?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What
about Mr. Honbacker or Mr. Stilt from bingo nights?” he asked, trying to get
out if it. “I’m sure they are free and willing.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">His
grandmother clicked her tongue. “The idea behind these classes is for us senior
citizens to enjoy ourselves. We do know we have a foot in the grave. We have
enough of a reality check every time we look in the mirror, honey. Besides, Mr.
Stilt’s prostate is acting up again. He can’t stay still fifteen minutes to
save his own life. And about Mr. Honbacker,” she added, lowering her voice, “Greta
had a…fling with him. They are not on speaking terms. Some kinky thing he did
with his false teeth, I hear.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Oh man.
There was an image he wouldn’t be able to erase from his mind even if he lived
to be one hundred.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">That was
what he got for being nice—permanent brain damage.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
a flawless specimen in the prime of your life,” she continued, reaching for his
arm and squeezing his biceps appreciatively. “Handsome and fit. A perfect
Michelangelo’s <i>David</i>.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
turned his head to her. “You’re kidding me, right? Come on, do I look anything
like Michelangelo’s <i>David</i>?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
pondered his words as her gaze traveled over his bulk and tattoos, then settled
on his face. “Well, your hair isn’t curly.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
rolled his eyes. Trust her to focus on the most insignificant things.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">For one,
his hair was cropped so short it was barely there. And two, he was heavily
tattooed, weighed around two hundred forty pounds, and a lifetime of practicing
boxing and martial arts had granted him a body that had little to do with that
of an effeminate boy.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’re
a bit rougher than Michelangelo’s <i>David</i>,” she finally conceded, “but you’ll
do nicely, I’m sure of it. The girls will be pleased.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">For the
love of God.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I’m
your grandson, and you’re pimping me out. Don’t you see anything wrong with
this picture?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Just
humor us. We’re a bunch of women in our eighties. Half of us are blind; the
other half won’t remember what we did today tomorrow. And you only have to
pose. The girls voted for body oil to highlight your muscles, but they couldn’t
agree who should help you rub it on, so I vetoed.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Fuck
me,” he muttered as he dug his heels in.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Fucking
hell.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">That was
what he got for going along with her wacky ideas. For not putting his foot
down. Like when she decided her girls needed self-defense classes. They needed an
extra edge, she’d said. Extra edge for what? What were those grandmas going to
be doing? Strolling around Southie sporting colors? Considering their age, the
best bet if anyone tried to rob them would be to hand over the purse. Better
that than risk any injury. His grandmother hadn’t agreed, of course, and now,
every Tuesday, there was a self-defense class for seniors down at the gym,
where Mike was supposed to teach those charming ladies how to knock down a
potential assailant without breaking any bones of their own.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Come
on, Mike, you know we’re harmless.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Yeah,
harmless his ass. He’d rather face a bloodthirsty firing squad or, better yet,
the Hulk in a no-holds-barred underground fight than deal with all the guilt-tripping
of the OGs—the Original Grandmas—what his grandmother and her partners in crime,
Greta and Wilma, had fittingly named the messenger group they shared.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Besides,
you’ve been fooling around with too many women to count. I bet half the
continental US has seen you naked. What does it matter if a bunch of grannies
see you in your undies? Oh, look, I got a rhyme. Sort of. I need to remember
it. For my creative-writing course. I’m compiling my memoirs.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Your
memoirs? Why do you need creative writing for memoirs?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She let
out a soft snort. “You wouldn’t believe it.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Next
time Mr. Bowen came for a visit, Mike was so bribing him into taking her to
Eternal Sun Resort in </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Florida</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">. From what he’d heard, the
senior community was more than adequately equipped to keep his grandmother
entertained and the rest of the world out of trouble.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">In the
meantime, he needed to do some damage control.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Grandma—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Probably
sensing he was about to hightail it out of there, she pulled out the big guns.
“You promised, Mike. You can’t break your promises to me. For all you know, I
could drop dead tomorrow, and you’d have to carry the guilt of breaking my
heart for the rest of your life.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">God
grant him patience.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Oh
please, you’ve been using the same I-could-drop-dead-tomorrow line to get away
with whatever you wanted for the last twenty years.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
shrugged. “I’ve just been lucky, but clearly I’m running out of time. The
probability of me kicking the bucket becomes higher and higher with every
passing day. You shouldn’t risk it.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Right.
She was in great shape, not only for her age but for someone ten years younger.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“A
shameless blackmailer, that’s what you are,” he muttered as they approached the
room, following the sound of animated chatter. “No oil. No rubbing. Heck, no
touching at all. And the boxers are staying on, are we clear?” He wasn’t sure
if Michelangelo’s <i>David</i> was a complete nude or if he had something
covering his junk, but Mike had his suspicions, and no way in hell was he
risking it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
patted him condescendingly. “Of course, dear. It’s not our intention to make
you uncomfortable in any way.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Really?
Thank fucking God, because he’d been nothing but damn uncomfortable since he’d
set foot in the community center.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“For the
record, Mike, none of us has had sex during this century, granted, but
equipment-wise, I doubt you have something we haven’t seen before.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
choked on the breath he was taking. He wouldn’t bet on that.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
second he entered the room, a perfectly heart-shaped ass clad in barely-there
boy shorts that left the undersides of the ass cheeks in plain view welcomed him.
Well, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The girl was bent over, so
he couldn’t see her face, but what he could see was very promising.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I
thought you needed a model for the male-anatomy painting class,” he whispered
as he lifted his chin, greeting his grandmother’s blue-haired posse.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“No, I
needed a male model for the anatomy painting class.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
should have started with that. As an incentive if nothing else. He was still
pissed he’d be spending every Wednesday posing in his damn
underwear—hopefully—but at least he wouldn’t be alone in his misery and could
entertain himself with eye candy.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
caught his grandmother’s gaze drifting away to the floor, a flash of unease on
her face, and his joy took a nosedive.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Oh boy,
why did he have a shitty feeling about this? Before he could ask anything, the
owner of that glorious ass straightened, turned around, and his fucking heart
jumped to his throat and stopped.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
froze. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">There,
standing in those sexy-like-hell shorts and a sports bra, showing off her
toned, curvy, and mouthwatering body, looking surprised as all fuck—and
displeased as all fuck too—was Kyra.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">His
Kyra.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">No, not
his Kyra anymore, he corrected himself.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
instinctively took a step back, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She’d
been back in Alden for a bit over a month now, and this was the closest he’d
been to her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Much
closer than he wanted to be ever again.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“A
word?” he growled to his grandmother while moving back to the hallway, dragging
her along.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Hoping
he was out of earshot, he stopped and turned to her, his jaw clenched so tight
he had trouble getting any words out. “Are you crazy?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
thought for a second. “Is that a trick question? Because I warn you my
admission won’t have any legal validity, in case you’re having funny thoughts.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
ignored her. “Kyra? Really?” He hated the raw bitterness dripping from his
voice, but there was nothing he could do about it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
lifted her shoulders. “I had nothing to do with that. I was in charge of
bringing a male model. Greta is the one who got Kyra.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sure she
had nothing to do with Kyra being in there. His grandma, Wilma, and Greta made
the three musketeers look like total strangers.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Not
doing it. No fucking way.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“What’s
the problem? You told me you were over her.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sure he was
over her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Over and
fucking done, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend any time around her. For
one, because even now, seeing her or hearing her voice still sent a surge of
pain through his chest, which, considering how fucking badly she’d crushed him
all those years ago, pissed him off to no end. That, of course, he wasn’t going
to explain to his grandmother.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Not that
she needed any explanations to read him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I
thought we could be mature about this,” he heard her say.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Fuck
mature. He was running for the hills.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">If it
hadn’t been for the fact that he’d promised Cole he would help with the library’s
renovation, he would have gotten the fuck out of Alden the very first day she
came back. Then again, his father couldn’t manage the gym by himself, so he was
stuck.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Since
her return, out of pure self-preservation, he’d become a master at avoiding
her, which in a place the size of Alden was a damn feat. Posing with her for a
couple of hours in a confined space, without immediate means of escape, would
blow to hell and back the frail status quo he’d managed to achieve. Not to
mention he would lose whatever </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">little</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> was left of his frigging peace of mind. He’d have nothing to do but
stare at her. At those gorgeous gray eyes of hers that he, once upon a time,
used to wake up to. At that bee-stung, luscious mouth he used to spend hours
kissing. At that sexy hourglass body he used to love fucking.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He shook
his head. “Grandma, I—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
sighed. “I understand. If you can’t take it, you can’t take it. I’ll walk right
back in and say you can’t do it. You shouldn’t feel like any less of a man for
it. It’s okay your feelings are still tender, my boy,” she said, patting his
chest. “Nobody will think less of you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
groaned in exasperation. Fantastic. Now he’d look like a fucking pussy if he
backed down.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Whatever.
Worse things to look like in life than a pussy, even for a born fighter like
him. Not sure what exactly, but he was sure there were some.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
turned around and began walking away.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Michael
Haddican, if you leave, we have to cancel the class. The whole course,
probably. If we cancel, she won’t get paid. She needs the cash. She’s in
trouble, my boy. I heard in two days—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Don’t
want to hear it,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone harsh.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He didn’t
want to hear a damn fucking word. Not a one. The sight of her and Sam was
painful enough. He didn’t need a sound track to go with it, thank you very
much.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He got a
handful of steps more before he stopped and let out a low, pissed-off growl.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Mike,
please,” he heard his grandma say.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He slung
his head forward.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Fuck.
Shit. Crap.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He hated
being played, but for the life of him he couldn’t walk away knowing he would be
directly responsible for making Kyra’s situation more difficult than it already
was. And why that mattered to him after all that had gone down, he couldn’t
fathom. Well, he could; he was a moron in dire need of a lobotomy. Pronto.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">After a
long pause, his back still to his grandmother, he muttered, “I thought you said
this was volunteer work.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“For you
it is. I’ve donated your pay to the church.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He shook
his head. He was so going to regret this.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">God
protect the unsuspecting soul who would spar with him in the gym later on. He
was going to have so much pent-up aggression he would annihilate the poor
bastard.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
turned around. “Just this once,” he said as sternly as he could muster. “You
better find a substitute for next time. I don’t care if you have to make do
with Mr. Honbacker and his kinky teeth or Mr. Stilt and his prostate. You
either get someone else next time, or your classes will be canceled. You hear
me?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
beamed. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He drew
in a deep breath and walked back inside.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He could
do mature.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Hopefully.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The
second his gaze landed on Kyra, he felt his cock stir. Jesus fucking Christ.
Didn’t the little fucker have a smidgen of dignity?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Apparently
not.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He
should not only be lobotomized, he should be castrated too, for good measure.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her
voluptuous mane of black hair was twisted back in a knot, two hair sticks
haphazardly holding it up. Thanks to her mixed Hispanic ancestry, she had
sun-kissed skin, raven hair, and almond-shaped eyes. That they weren’t black
but smoky gray made her even more exotic.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They
stared at each other for a long second.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Man, to
him she was the most beautiful woman in the world.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">How the
fuck was he going to pull this off?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Mike,”
Kyra greeted him, her voice clipped.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She wasn’t
happier than he was at this moment. She stood stiff, eyeing the door as if she
might bolt at any second. But he knew she wouldn’t. Like him, she’d always had
a soft spot for his grandmother. Never mind how badly Kyra might need the
money, she would be running out the door if this gig didn’t involve the OGs. Or
maybe not. Who the fuck knew her now? Certainly not him. He wondered if he ever
did.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Shaking
those thoughts away, he nodded in her general direction. His cock followed
suit.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Fuck,
shit, crap. He had to get the fuck out of here.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He threw
a dirty glance to his grandmother, who now was shamelessly smiling. Wilma and Greta,
her sisters in mischief, were smiling too.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Let’s
get cracking,” the evil woman said, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him
forward. “Come stand here in front of Kyra.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He lifted
his gaze up, chanced another look at Kyra, and his dick twitched again. Oh
hell. These boxers were no barrier. At all. They were going to start tenting in
three…two…one.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And cue public
humiliation.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Well, if
his cock burst straight through his pants and gave her friends a collective
heart attack, his grandmother would have no one to blame but herself. Then
again, sending half the senior population in Alden to the ER would be a hell of
a way to end his Wednesday. He would never live that one down.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He took
in a slow breath, and reaching deep inside into the place where he kept it all
locked away, he released every ounce of pain that came hand in hand with Kyra,
allowing the memories to flood into his mind. And with that, he felt his dick
retreating.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Good.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Now he
could do this.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">OH GOD.
HE was coming back. Stalking into the room like a cornered panther, baring his
teeth. His body tense, his huge muscles bulging.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He was
breathtaking.</span><span lang="EN-US"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Kyra had
almost fallen on her ass the second she’d seen Mike there. Only a lifetime of
training in not showing her emotions had kept her standing.</span><span lang="EN-US"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He’d
been smiling. That lazy, drawn-out smile she’d loved so much. Until he’d seen
her. Then his face had fallen along with his smile and his expressive eyes. Now
his gaze was blank. And his jaw about to split in two.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
would have loved to run away, much in the same manner he’d done. And not just
out of this room, but out of this town and this state. Out of her frigging
life. But she couldn’t. And there was Sam to think about.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She
needed the money, so she hid her shaking hands behind her back, breathed in
deep and slow, and brought up that memory, the one of Mike looking straight at
her and shattering her world. Rage filled her, cracking up her spine. Stilling
the tremor in her hands.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Good.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Now she could do this.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: white;">Copyright Elle Aycart 2014 </span></span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-28859103023135437472014-01-13T05:36:00.003-08:002014-01-13T05:36:58.982-08:00Cover reveal: Deep Down (The OGs #1). Release date 11th Feb.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKM_SIIJ5NeMJ2PaFqwPDSpvbtW9KIJvR-iy9m-8MQxkSlKRlkSJOFqyQ38VKyZBRwWvNSZmT_pMnbFdEl_Rm1SDUkOWxktP-pUldS4pP3L1oEfPQK8MF5KvBsbyRQPAeb8gtQhbRn2zo/s1600/ElleAyecart_DeepDown_coverin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKM_SIIJ5NeMJ2PaFqwPDSpvbtW9KIJvR-iy9m-8MQxkSlKRlkSJOFqyQ38VKyZBRwWvNSZmT_pMnbFdEl_Rm1SDUkOWxktP-pUldS4pP3L1oEfPQK8MF5KvBsbyRQPAeb8gtQhbRn2zo/s320/ElleAyecart_DeepDown_coverin.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;">Deep Down, the first in the OGs series (Original Grandmas) will be released 11th of February. Here you have the synopsis. Enjoy!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;">Mike Haddican is a proud small-town gym owner, a renowned karate
instructor, and all-around good guy. He’s never needed much to be happy:
his family, his friends, his girl. Especially his girl. But when Kyra
left him seven years ago to chase her dreams, she all but destroyed him.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;">Contemporary dancer Kyra Brims made it big, but it cost her dearly.
With her life and career in shambles, she doesn’t need a do-over, she
needs a friggin’ miracle. Injured, broke, and out of options after going
through hell, she’s come back to Alden, the town she swore she’d never
return to and home of Mike Haddican, the man who ripped her soul to
pieces, to lick her wounds and recover.</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;">Forgetting and letting go proved impossible when they were worlds
apart; now that they’re stuck together they don’t stand a chance,
especially with Mike’s grandma and her partners in crime plotting,
meddling and refusing to give up on them.</span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;">As the passion that never died burns out of control, so do old hurts
and unresolved issues. Both have reasons to be angry and feel betrayed,
but now that they’re older, are they wise enough to make things work?</span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-10459159001976900702013-04-25T10:50:00.000-07:002013-04-25T10:50:11.855-07:00Mike's book<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Hi everyone, since announcing I'd be writing a book about Mike, I got lots of requests for more information on Mike. Heavy Issues had a subplot about him, but the publishers decided to delete it. Ever since, I've had Mike's story in my head and frankly, I'll go bonkers if I don't get it out on paper. I'm still writing Max's book (basically I'm writing both books at the same time), but I think I'll get Mike's published first. Here you have the first chapter. Keep in mind this is a rough, unedited version that is subject to change. I hope you'll enjoy it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Chapter 1</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“This is a bad idea, grandma,” Mike said as he got out of the
dressing room at the community center, wearing nothing but his boxers and an intimidating
scowl that, unfortunately and as usual, had no effect whatsoever on the old
lady.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nonsense.
The girls are waiting. Let’s roll,” she said as she pushed him
forward and down the corridor. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">His grand
mother was barely five feet tall and 100 pounds when drenched. How she
got the strength to push his big frame while he was literally dragging his feet
was beyond him. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Besides,
you promised you’d do it.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He
snorted. “No I didn’t. I promised I’d help you with your senior courses.
Meaning I’d drive you around, do your shopping or some shit like that. I didn’t
agree to pose for any male anatomy painting lessons. You know I’m too busy for
this.” He’d stopped working as a foreman almost two years ago to run the family
gym full time with his dad, but last month Cole had taken on the renovation of
the town’s library pro bono, and Mike had volunteered to help. That plus the
gym and the martial art classes in the afternoons had taken up all his time.
Fuck it if now that the library was ready he was going to invest whatever was
left of the summer in this. “Can’t you guys use, I don’t know, a statue? Or
better yet, a picture. There are plenty of books and—”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Live
human anatomy painting, Mike,” she interrupted, emphasizing the word “live”. “And
one is never too busy to help his grandmother.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Well, it
depended on how nutty the grandmother was, didn’t it?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
about Mr. Honbacker or Mr. Stilt from Bingo nights?” he asked, trying to get
out if it. “I’m sure they are free and willing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">His
grandmother clicked her tongue. “The idea behind these classes is for us senior
citizens to enjoy ourselves. We do know we have a foot in the grave. We have
enough of a reality check every time we look in the mirror, honey. Besides, Mr.
Stilt’s prostate is acting up again. He couldn’t stay still 15 minutes to save
his own life. And about Mr. Honbacker,” she added lowering her voice, “Rita had
a ...fling with him. They are not on speaking terms. Some kinky thing he did with
his false teeth I hear.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh man. There
was an image he wouldn’t be able to erase from his mind even if he lived to be
hundred. That was what he got for being nice—permanent brain damage. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’re a
flawless specimen. In the prime of your life,” she continued, reaching for his
arm and squeezing his biceps appreciatively. “Handsome and fit. A perfect
Michelangelo’s <i>David</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He turned
his head to her. “You kidding me, right? Come on, do I look to you anything
like Michelangelo’s <i>David</i>?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She pondered
his words as her gaze travelled over his bulk and tattoos, then settled on his
face. “Well, your hair isn’t curly.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He rolled
his eyes. Trust her to focus on the most insignificant things.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The fact that he was heavily tattooed,
weighted around 220 pounds and a life-time of practicing boxing and martial
arts had granted him a body that had little to do with that of an effeminate
boy hadn’t registered.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’re a
bit rougher than Michelangelo’s David,” she finally conceded, “but you’ll make
do nicely, I’m sure of it. The girls will be pleased.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">For the
love of God.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m your
grandson, and you’re pimping me out. Don’t you see anything wrong with this picture?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Just
humor us. We’re a bunch of women in our late seventies, early eighties. Half
of us are blind; the other half won’t remember tomorrow what we did today. And
you only have to pose. The girls voted for body oil to highlight your muscles, but
they couldn’t agree who should help you rub it on, so I vetoed.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fuck me,”
he muttered as he dug his heels in. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Fucking
hell.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">That’s
what happened for going along with his grandma’s wacky ideas. For not putting
his foot down on time. Like when she decided her girls needed self-defense
classes. They needed an extra edge, she'd said. Extra edge for what? What were those grandmas
going to be doing? Strolling around Southie sporting colors? Considering their
age, the best bet if anyone tried to rob them would be to hand out the purse.
Better that than risk any injury. His grand mother hadn’t agreed, of course, and now, every
Wednesday, there was a self-defense class for seniors down at the gym, where Mike was supposed to
teach them how to knock down a guy without breaking any bones of their own. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Come on,
Mike, we’re harmless.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Yeah,
harmless his ass. He’d rather face a firing squad or better yet,
the Hulk in a no-holds-barred underground fight than deal with his grandma’s
goonies and all their guilt tripping tricks. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Next time
Mr. Bowen came for a visit, Mike was so bribing him into taking her to
Eternal Sun Resort in Florida. For what he’d heard, the senior community was more
than adequately equipped to keep his grandmother entertained and the rest of
the world out of trouble.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">In the
mean time, he needed to exercise some damage control. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Grandma—”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Probably sensing
he was about to hightail it out of there, she pulled out the big guns. “You
promised, Mike. You can’t break your promises to me. For all you know I could
drop dead tomorrow and you’d have to carry the guilt of breaking my heart in
your conscience for the rest of your life.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">God grant
him patience.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh please,
you’d been using the same I-could-drop-dead-tomorrow line to get away with
whatever you wanted for the last 20 years.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She
shrugged. “I’ve been just lucky, but clearly I’m running out of time. The probabilities
of that happening become higher and higher with every passing day. You should
not risk it.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Right. She
was in great shape, not only for her age but for someone 10 years younger than
she was. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“A shameless
blackmailer, that’s what you are,” he muttered as they approached the room, from
where the animated chatter was coming out. “No oil. No rubbing. Hell, no
touching at all. And the boxers are staying on, are we clear?” He wasn’t sure
if Michelangelo’s David was a complete nude or if he had something covering his
junk, but Mike had his suspicions and damn
if he was going to risk it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She patted
him condescendingly. “Of course dear, it’s not our intention to make you
uncomfortable in any way.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Really? Thank
fucking God, because he’d been nothing but damn uncomfortable since he’d set
foot in the community center.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“For the
record, Mike; none of us has had sex during this century, granted, but equipment
wise, I doubt you have something we haven’t seen before.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He choked
on the breath he was taking. He wouldn’t bet on that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The second
he entered the room, a perfectly heart-shaped ass clad in an extremely short
boy shorts that left the underside of both ass cheeks in plain view greeted him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The girl was bent
over, so he couldn’t see her face, but what he could see was damn promising.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I thought
you needed a model for the male anatomy painting class,” he whispered as he
lifted his chin, greeting his grandmother’s blue-haired posse.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“No, I
needed a male model for the anatomy painting class.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She should
have started with that. As an incentive if anything else. He was still pissed
he’d be spending every the other Tuesday posing in his damn underwear—hopefully—,
but at least he wouldn’t be alone in his misery and could entertain himself
with eye candy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He caught his grandmother’s gaze
drifting away to the floor, a flash of unease on her face, and his joy took a
nosedive. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh boy, why
did he suddenly have a shitty feeling about this? Before he could ask anything,
the owner of that glorious ass straightened, turned around and his fucking
heart jumped to his throat. And stopped.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He froze.
Literally. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">There, standing
in those sexy like hell shorts and a sports bra, showing off her toned and
curvy and mouth-watering body, looking surprised as all fuck, and displeased as all fuck too, was Kyra. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">His Kyra.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">No, not
his Kyra anymore, he corrected himself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He instinctively took a step back, the air
suddenly too thick to breath.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She’d been
back in Alden for several weeks now. This was the closest he’d been to her
since her return.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Much
closer than what he wanted to be ever again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“A word?”
he said to his grandmother while moving back to the corridor, dragging her
along.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Hoping he
was out of ear shot, he stopped and turned to her, his jaw clenched so tight he had trouble getting any words out. “You crazy?” </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She
thought for a second. “Is that a trick question? Because I warn you my
admission won’t have any legal validity. In case you’re thinking about having
me committed.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He ignored
her. “Kyra? Really?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She lifted
her shoulders. “I had nothing to do with that, I was in charge of bringing a
male model. Rita is the one that got Kyra.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sure she
had nothing to do with Kyra being in there.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Not doing
it. No fucking way.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What’s
the problem? You told me you were over her.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sure he
was over her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Over and fucking
done, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend any time around her. Or breathing
the same air. For one, because even now, seeing her or hearing her voice still send
a surge of pain through his chest, which, considering how fucking badly she’d
crushed him all those years ago, pissed him to no end. That, of course, he wasn’t
going to explain to his grandmother. Not that she needed any explanations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I thought
we could be mature about this,” he heard her say.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Fuck
mature. He was running for the hills. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">If it hadn’t
been for the fact that he’d promised Cole he’d help with the library’s
renovation, he would have gotten the fuck out of Alden the very first day she
came back. Then again, his father couldn’t manage the gym by himself, so he was
stuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Since her
return, and out of pure self-preservation, he’d become a master at avoiding her,
which in a place the size of Alden was a damn feat. Posing with her for a couple
of hours would blow to hell and back the frail status quo he’d managed to
achieve, not to talk about how he would loose whatever little was left of his
frigging peace of mind. He’d
have nothing to do but stare at her. At those gorgeous dark grey eyes of hers
he, once upon a time, used to wake up to. At that bee stung, luscious mouth he
used to spend hours kissing. At that sexy little body he used to love fucking.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Grandma—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She
sighed. “I understand. If you can’t take it, you can’t take it. I’ll walk right
back in and say you can’t do it. You shouldn’t feel like any less of a man for
it. It’s okay your feelings are still tender, my boy,” she said patting his
chest. “Nobody will think less of you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He groaned
in exasperation. Fantastic. Now he’d look like a fucking pussy if he backed
down.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Whatever.
Worse things to look like in life than a pussy, even for a born fighter like
him. Not sure which ones were those, but he was sure there ought to be.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He turned
around and began walking away.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Michael,
if you leave, we have to cancel the class. The whole course probably. If we
cancel, she won’t get paid. She needs the cash. She’s in trouble, my boy. I
heard in two days—”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t
want to hear it,” he said through gritted teeth. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He didn’t
want to hear a damn fucking word. Not a one. The sight of her and Sam was
painful enough. He didn’t need a soundtrack to go with it, thank you very much.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He got in only
a handful of steps more before he stopped and let out a low, pissed-off growl.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Mike,
please,” he heard his grandma say.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He slung
his head forward. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Fuck. Shit.
Crap.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He hated
being played, but for the life of him he couldn’t walk away knowing he would be
directly responsible for making Kyra’s situation more difficult. And why that mattered to him after all that had gone down, he couldn’t
fathom. Well, he could; he was a moron in dear need of an express lobotomy.
Pronto. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">After a
long pause, his back still facing his grandmother, he muttered, “I thought you
said this was volunteer work.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“For you
it is. I’ve donated your pay to the Church.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He shook
his head. He was so going to regret this. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">God
protect the unsuspecting soul that would spar with him in the gym later on. He
was going to have so much pent-up aggression he would annihilate the poor
bastard.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He turned
around. “Just this once,” he said as sternly as he could muster. “You better find
a substitute for next time. I don’t care if you have to make do with Mr.
Honbacker and his kinky teeth or Mr. Stilt and his prostate. You either get
someone else next time, or your classes will be cancelled. You hear me?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She beamed.
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He drew in
a deep breath, and walked back inside.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He could
do mature. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Hopefully.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The second
his gaze landed on Kyra, he felt his cock stir. Jesus fucking Christ. Didn’t
the little fucker have a smidgen of dignity? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Apparently
not.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He should
not only be lobotomized, he should be castrated too.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">They
stared at each other for a long second.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Man, she
was still the most beautiful woman in the world. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">How the
fuck was he going to pull this off?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Mike,”
Kyra greeted, her voice clipped. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She wasn’t
happier than he was at this moment. She was standing stiff, throwing glances to the
door as if she were to bolt at any second. But he knew she wouldn’t. Like him, she’d
always had a soft spot for his grandmother. She might need the money, but he
bet she would be running out the door if this little gig didn’t involve his
grandmother. Or maybe not. Who the fuck knew her now. Certainly not him. He
wondered if he ever did.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Shaking
those thoughts away, he nodded in her general direction. His cock too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Fuck,
shit, crap. He had to get the fuck out of here.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He threw a
dirty glance to his grand mother, who now was shamelessly smiling.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Let’s get
cracking,” the evil woman said, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him forward.
“Come stand here in front of Kyra.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He looked
up, chanced another look at Kyra and his dick twitch again. Oh hell. These boxers
were no barrier. At all. They were going to start tenting in three... two...
one.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Well, if his cock burst straight
through his pants and gave a collective hard attack to her friends, his grandmother would have no one to blame but herself. Then again,
sending half the senior population in Alden to the ER would be a hell of a way
to end his Friday. He would never live that one down.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He took in
a slow breath, and reaching deep inside into the place where he kept it all
locked away, he released every ounce of pain that came hand in hand with Kyra, allowing
the memories to flood into his mind. And with that, he felt his dick retreating
into himself. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Good. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Now, he
could do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Copyright © Elle Aycart 2013 </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-70105504189323187152013-04-03T01:25:00.000-07:002013-04-03T01:25:41.284-07:00Max's book<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> Hi everyone, I got tons of requests for this, so here you have it. Just keep in mind it's a rough, unedited version that may be subject to change. I hope you enjoy it. Kisses, Elle</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Chapter 1</b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You
know, if the idea behind a midnight wedding was to discourage people from
attending, I think we can fairly say it hasn't worked," Annie heard coming
from behind her.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit, she'd
been already made out. Damn. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She whirled
around so fast, she not only got a dizzy spell but lost her footing and almost
fell from the hammock she was sitting on. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank God someone
with a very strong grip reached to steady her. "Wow, careful there."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she
regained her balance, Annie lifted her gaze to find Max Bowen, the groom's
younger brother, smirking at her. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She brought her hand to her thumping heart. "Jeez,
you scared me, Max."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Sorry," he said sheepishly, his eyes
sparkling with amusement. "What are you doing here?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were in
the unlit part of the garden, as far away from the wedding reception as
possible without actually leaving the Bowen's property. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"I'm in hiding. Go away," she shooed him,
peeking behind him to make sure no one had followed Max. "You always have
a string of girls attached to your hip. Soon they are going to be all giggling
around here, drawing attention, and I don't want to be discovered just yet."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her duties
as bride's maid were all done, Tate and James were already on their way to
their honeymoon; she could disappear in good conscience.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Hey," he said, sounding offended. "I
may be in need of hiding for a while too."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She gave him a disbelieving look. "You?
Why?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max went around the hammock, loosened his tie and
unfastening the first button of his shirt, sat beside her. "Why? Because my
ass has been pinched so many times tonight I swear I can barely feel it
anymore."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie stifled a giggle. "Your ass is
sore?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Like you wouldn't believe it," he said,
breathing out slowly and running his hand through his shoulder-length hair. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She locked eyes with his, realizing too late he was
currently smiling less than three inches away from her face, and the sight of
him all but knocked the wind out of her. Jeez, Max in faded old jeans and a tee
was breathtaking. In a tuxedo? A total heart stopper. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She wasn't too fond of blond men, but Max was in a
league all of his own. With model-perfect masculine factions, wicked green eyes
and his usual five-day golden stubble, Max was sexy like hell. Add to his
Hollywood looks his laidback disposition, his kick-ass body and rogue smile,
and well, it was almost impossible not to drool in his presence, which the
charming devil knew very well and played to its full advantage.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She managed to break eye contact. "I think the
Eternal Sun resort senior contingent from Florida might be the one primarily responsible
for your ass condition." She got both Mister Bowen and Tate's mom lived
down there -- were neighbors actually--, but they should have never told the
other residents about the wedding. The Bowen brothers were popular enough in
the Boston greater area, no need to bring reinforces from the south.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Probably,"
Max mussed. "I guess I should just count my lucky stars those ladies are
on the short side and can't reach my nipples, huh?" </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie broke in laughter. God, Max was such a clown.
Although on that one he might be right.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"I hear they catered a bus and made regular
stops along the way from Florida to Boston to pick up their granddaughters and
nieces."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And who
could blame them? It was not every day that one of the Bowen brothers got
married so the standard guest plus1 had transformed into guest plus10. Not to
mention the groom's wedding party alone was a sight to behold. All those hunks
in tailored tuxedos. Standing tall and proud and yummy. Talk about eye candy. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max sighed. "I
bet they did. This is the first wedding I attend where are more people crashing
the damn event than actual guests. James should have hired his own security company
to guard the place."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He should have, but he was so over the moon lately,
he probably hadn't thought about anything else besides putting his ring on
Tate's finger.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max seemed to be able to read her. "Yeah, I
know my brother is in married-man bliss, but there is Cole and I to protect. Well,
ok, just me now that Cole is engaged," he conceded with a rueful grin. "But
seriously, with how fiercely protective Cole is of Christy, and the mean right
hook she's developed against certain bitches, I'd say some guests would have
thanked the extra protection too." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Please, Christy is a pussycat." Although
Annie sure relished the yellowish remnants of the black eye Rose was still
sporting, which, by the way, she'd totally deserved. "And you don't need
protection from women, Max." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If anything
it was the other way around. He was the ultimate ladies' man. He'd never hurt
for female attention before, but now with James married and Cole engaged, Max was
getting so much action he was gorging on it.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">His cheeky grin broke over his face. "True,
under normal circumstances, but that back there is a bit overwhelming, even for
me."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie rolled her eyes, and was about to answer,
when suddenly Max moved, making the hammock rock like crazy. "What are you
doing?" she squeaked, gripping the net hard.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Lying down. I need to give a respite to my poor,
abused ass. Come on," he said patting the spot near him. "Lay down
with me. I don't bite."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh, she wasn't so sure about that. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She eyed warily the net. OK, forget the spiky high
heels she was wearing and the skin tight bridesmaid dress, which was the shit
yet didn't allow for much movement, but she'd spent 3 hours in the beauty
saloon getting her unruly mop of hair all pinned up and adorned with dozens of
tiny white flowers. "If my hairdo gets entangle in that, I won't be able
to yank it free without looking like the modern version of Medusa."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Here." He stretched his arm and offered
it as a pillow. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie wasn't sure this was a good idea, but she was
so tired. "I'm not that great with hammocks. I may roll us both
over." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He chuckled. "I'm a professional stuntman,
Annie. I think I can handle a hammock."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, he had
a point there. She'd seen him on the big screen doing the craziest things. Not
to mention his fondness for extreme sports.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"I'll keep us steady. Come on, you're messing
with the gravity center sitting there."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She faltered for just a second, then shrugged. "Fine.
But I'm a klutz. Don't come crying to me when we find ourselves on the grass,
mister Hotshot Stuntman," she said as she slowly moved to lay besides him.
</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It was a two-person hammock, but he was so big and his
shoulders were so damn broad, he took more than his fair share of space. She
rested her neck on his muscular arm and tried to keep her body at a distance
from his, but he was much heavier and her whole left side ended up glued to his
right.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Comfy?" he asked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Actually, yes, but that was beside the point. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Hmm..." She tried separating herself
from him, but gravity and his massive body worked against her and the more she
moved away, the more the net bounced her right back against Max. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Not that I'm complaining, but you're rubbing
against me. Anything you want to tell me, miss Shawn?" he asked, his words
laced with laughter. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">This was the closest she'd ever been to Max, and in
spite of herself, his low deep rumble had all her girly parts tingling, which
was totally inappropriate because Max was eight years younger than she was. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She cleared her throat, trying to sound outraged. "Of
course not. Besides, you're way too young for me." Not to mention that at
age 35, Annie was a good decade older than the women Max usually dated.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max snorted, amused. "Sure, you're ancient.
Now stop squirming, Ace. You could break your femur, and at your old age any
fracture could be fatal."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She saw the smirk on his face and went for elbowing
him, but there was not enough space between them to get a good jab in.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Watch
it. In your advanced condition you can as easily dislocate a shoulder. I hear
all one has to do is sneeze and there it goes the hip." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Oh
please. Just shut up," she said unable to contain her laughter.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie hadn't had much contact with Max before, but
since Tate and Holly had started to hang out together, and Christy and Cole had
become and item, the Bowen brothers and their crew had ceased to be a bunch of
gorgeous guys you admired from afar, and had become a permanent fixture in her
life. It was hard to get used to such overabundance of panty creamers, but she
was copping. With the casual panic attack but she was copping. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Still chuckling, he pinned her by his side and turned
his gaze to the sky. "Settle down and look up, Ace." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Bossy guy, she thought but she found herself
obliging him.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Wow," she whispered as took in the view.
</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Everything looks better from a hammock,
doesn't it?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sure it did. "I'm going to take one to the Friday
night outdoors cinema instead of sitting on those wooden chairs. The Arnie
marathon they are running won't be better, but at least the hammock will
improve my viewing experience."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Yep," he said. "I hear they are
preparing a Mel Gibson marathon for next year."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Well, that's marginally better."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">His low voice rumbled in the night. "How you
figure that?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"More rom-coms, less commando shit. Plus I
could stand to see his milky white ass once more in Braveheart."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She felt him turn to her and shake his head.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max lowered a foot to the ground and kicked it,
rocking gently the hammock.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">They laid there in silence for a long while,
enjoying the view. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She probably should
be more freaked about lying there with Max Bowen, but the truth of the matter
was she didn't have enough energy to get herself worked out. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Today had been a very hectic day. The wedding had
been beautiful and everything had gone according to plan --more or less-- but it
had been taxing, and for a while there she'd felt dizzy and out of breath from
the excitement and the place being packed. And then it had been the cake too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Annie loved cake, even riskee ones, but she
must have eaten the poisoned piece intended for Tate -- or Christy-- because
boy did the little sucker repeat on her. Now though, lying there away from the
crowd, with her gaze up on the black sky and the gently rocking, she felt
totally relaxed and at ease. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"The wedding was beautiful," she mumbled
without turning to him. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Aunt Maggie and Tate's mom really thought of
everything."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Her lips quirked in a slow smile. "Except for
the electrified fence around the yard."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max chuckled. "Yes, except for that. I could
have done without the impromptu conga line afterwards during the reception too."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Annie
laughed. "Come on, Max, you rocked the conga line."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He snorted but said nothing about that.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It had been one of the highlights of the night,
only second to seeing Tate all but running down the aisle and kissing the
living lights out of James before the priest had gotten a word in. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"So,
why are you in hiding?" he asked turning his captivating gaze to her. God
that the guy was stunning. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And of course
at this close distance, there was all this olfactory and tactile data to deal
with. Even in his relaxed position, Max's body was hard and rigged, oozing
masculinity and testosterone. His smell, a mixture of aftershave, clean sweat
and a hint of tobacco from the cigar James had given him, was so male it had
all her girly parts jumping in excitement, which was so inappropriate in so
many levels she wasn't even going to think about it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She sighed and turned her face up to the sky. "I've
been long enough in the dating arena to know when your date starts talking
about himself in third person, it's time to hide." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The hammock shook with his muffled laughter. His
hard body too.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Not to mention the more he drinks, the more
arms he grows. And the more his eyes bulge every time he sees a pair of boobs. It's
bad enough that he has spent the last two hours talking to my nipples, but ogling
other women goodies on top of that? Gross."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Steven was a co-worker from her office with whom
she'd gone out twice this last month. The first date didn't turn out too bad, so
she'd given it a second go. Bad, bad idea. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He tsked. "Moron. Doesn't he know your goodies
are the best?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She felt her face flame. Then she realized what he
was probably referring to. "You are talking about the candy basket from
the fundraiser, right?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">A couple of weeks ago, for the annual town's
fundraising dinner, her candy shop had donated a basket of gourmet candy which
Max had bid on and won.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He winked at her. "Those goodies too."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She shook her head. God, he was such a shameless
flirt. Gorgeous, charming, easy going. Pity when it came to women, he had the
attention span of a hummingbird on crack. Not that it mattered to her. Not only
was he totally out of her league, but there was the age difference to contend
with. 8 years might not seem much, but in mindsets, they were light years
apart. At age 35 Annie was ready to settle and marry and Max was..., well Max
was most definitely not. Max was not playing the field; he owned the damned
thing.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Behave," she admonished him.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"I am, Ace. I am," he said in a chuckle. "I
have been meaning to tell you those chocolate things were fucking
fantastic."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"You liked them?" </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He nodded. "Don't misunderstand me, the
traditional sweets are great, but this new shit you are bringing... mouth
watering. I'm going to go to see you one of these afternoons to get more."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Annie smiled, pleased as all hell. She'd
inherited her mom's little candy shop two years ago, when she'd decided to
marry Larry and move with him to Alaska. Although she already had an office job
in Boston, she hadn't wanted to close the place down, so she'd hired a girl to
work there in the mornings and Annie took care of the afternoons. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">As the shop had been barely turning a profit, she'd
decided to upgrade the whole concept and along with jelly beans and candy canes
she decided to go for a more sophisticated line sporting gourmet chocolates and
truffles from </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Brussels</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">, strawberries with champagne and white chocolate frosting, and all
sort of products for special occasions.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Remember to come ready to tweet."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He winked at her. "Don't worry. Twitter, Facebook,
Foursquare, the whole shebang. How did you come up with the whole concept by
the way?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Honestly? I didn't. Christy did."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day brainstorming while chatting through
internet with Christy about how to reach more customers, her friend had come up
with the idea of using Twitter, so the shop "Sweets" had become
"Sweets and Tweets" and the clients got a 5% discount if they tweeted
on the spot about the goodies they were buying.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Word got out about the new products and in no time
they had people coming from Boston to get their sugar fixes or for special
dates. Last year for Valentine's Day it had been crazy, the queue had gone all
the way to the street and around the corner. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max smiled. "My future sister-in-law is a
charming geek."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"That she is." Annie and Christy had met
in college and had kept in contact ever since. A bit over six months ago she
took a sabbatical from her job as a software engineer and moved temporarily from
LA to Alden to get away from her cheating fiance. Now she was engaged to Cole
Bowen and run Alden's library. Funny how things changed.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">They swung in silence for a while longer.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She'd been afraid lying with Max, playboy
extraordinaire, was going to feel weird, but somehow and in spite of his
flirting, it didn't. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"So, I have to ask; how often you end up in
hiding during your dates?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She snorted. "You wouldn't believe me if I
told you."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She would be hiding in the bathroom right now if
she would be sure that Women Only sign would somehow stop self-absorbed Pompous
Ass from entering. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie was an active dater, an optimist one would
say. Yeah the world was full of frogs, but there were princes out there and you
just had to persevere until you found yours. Easier said than done though. A
romantic at heart, she'd always believed everyone got his or her happily ever
after, but with the luck she'd had lately, and all the frogs she'd had to deal
with, she'd begun to believe everyone just didn't include her. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"You're dating the wrong guys."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Didn't she know that.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Not that he would understand her predicament. The
guy went through women like through potato chips. Charming girls out of their
pants as if it were an Olympic sport. Although Annie hadn't heard a single
complain from the female population. Far from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"What about the stud gala? Did you end up in
hiding there too?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie stilled. "How did you know about the
gala?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"You kidding me? I heard Cole grumbling about
you guys buying the gala invitation for Christy. Then I had to listen Tate
complain about not getting one. And then James growling and threatening Elle if
she did."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She cleared her throat. "That hadn't been a
date but no, I didn't end up in hiding then."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">No sir, not at all. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Guys, what are you doing there?" </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie turned her head to see Christy and Cole
approaching. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"His ass was hurting and he needed to lay down,"
Annie blurted, tensing. Under somebody else's scrutiny, lying there with Max
felt suddenly awkward.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"What?" Christy asked confused, letting
go of Cole's hand as they reached Annie and Max.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Never mind," she mumbled, clumsily
hauling herself up and out of the hammock. Max followed her much more
gracefully, holding her when her wobbly legs and the whole rocking made her
falling on her face a very distinct possibility.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"How's it going?" Max asked his brother.
"Is the party winding down already?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Cole looked toward the reception and grimaced. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Nope," he muttered. Then he turned to
Christy. "We are eloping."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled
wide. "Sure, let's elope to Vegas."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Cole's expression tightened. "I'm not getting
hitched by Elvis, sweet thing," he warned, wrapping his arm over her
shoulder and bringing her front to his side.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Who said anything about Elvis, honey? I was
thinking more along the lines of Captain Kirk."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"So not happening."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Christy, bless her heart, ignored him and smiled even
wider. "Or Spock. We could book the Star Trek package, marry with a Vulcan
and a Klingon as witnesses. And wire the chapel so that our friends could
follow the wedding through internet. Wouldn't that be a blast?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">He kissed her hard, then whispered in her lips.
"I love you, baby, but no fucking way." If his expression was
anything to go by, it was a good thing Cole loved Christy to pieces, because
sure as hell he wasn't a man to be led by his dick, much less into a Star Trek
wedding. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Elope all you want, but I'm organizing your
bachelor party. Imagine all I could do with Vegas as the backdrop," Max
said, to which Cole grimaced even stronger. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Here you are," Annie heard coming from
behind them.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Shit. Steven aka Pompous Ass. Her stomach roiled
and realization dawned. Oh god, the spell of sickness she'd experienced during
the reception? Apparently it had nothing to do with the crowded yard or the
cake. She'd reached a milestone -- her dates were physically making her sick.
Way to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max came closer and whispered. "Is this the
guy?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She nodded and turned to Steven, who was
obnoxiously grinning. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Ready
to dance with the king of the night, darling?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was now
close enough and his sugary smell reached her. Nausea rose in her belly. Trying
not to cringe, she took a step forward, frantic for an excuse, when suddenly
someone tugged at her hand from behind.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Sorry
man," Max said. "The prettiest girl in this wedding owes me a couple
of dances and I'm ready to collect." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max twirled
her around, and wound her in, a wink in his face. "Let's give him a show,"
he whispered to her. Before she could react, Max wrapped his hand around her
neck, the other around her waist and bending her exaggeratedly backwards, placed
his lips over hers. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She hadn't regained her breath and her bearings
when he pulled her back up and spun her around again.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh God, too much movement.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"I'm not feeling too good," she managed
to let out a second before bending over and throwing up all over Max's shoes.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>***********</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"OK, spit it out, Annie," Holly prompted.
"If memory serves me well, Ben switching teams on you had been a DEFCON3
emergency, I truly have no clue what possible planetary disaster DEFCON1 could
refer to."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trying not
to hyperventilate, she let out those two tiny words, the ones that had her
freaked out of her ever loving mind.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Holly's ass plopped unto the chair, Sophie's eyes all
but popped from her sockets and Christy's jaw dropped to the table. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Definitely DEFCON1," Christy
mumbled.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Pregnant? What do you mean pregnant?” Holly asked,
stupefied.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Pregnant,” Annie choked out. “As in knocked up.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh God,” Sophie let out.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“How? When? Who?” Then before Annie could answer,
not that she was too eager to answer anyway, Holly continued, "Please
don't tell me it's Steven's."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">At least there was that; a positive side of this
whole mess she hadn't thought of.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Eww. You nuts? I didn't have sex with Steven."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her friends
let out a collective relieved breath.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Thank God," Holly muttered.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She'd been
about to chide them for even thinking she'd had sex with him after just two
dates, but she saw the irony in her predicament and decided to bite her tongue.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"If it isn't his then...?" Christy asked,
motioning with her hand for her to go on. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie cleared her throat. “Remember the StudsRus.com
gala a while back?” she mumbled in a grimace. "The nice Italian escort I
met there? Luigi?" </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Complete silence.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie had attended in Christy's place to the yearly
gala that StudsRus.com, the most prestigious escort agency in Boston, had hosted
a month ago in the Ritz Carlton downtown. The girls had managed to buy an
invitation for Christy's birthday, after her vow of getting professionally
laid, but once Cole had heard about it, he'd put a damper to the whole plan, so
they drew straws and surprise, surprise, Annie had won. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"You're shitting me," someone mumbled.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie shook her head. No, she wasn't shitting them.
She wished she was, but she wasn't.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It had been a great night. A magical one with all
those candle lights, the fine food, the expensive champagne, the great company.
It turned out StudsRus.com was much more than a gigolo agency. Their escorts were
highly sought after and traveled all over the country accompanying clients,
some of them very powerful people, to high profile events. They were not only
gorgeous, but they were extremely well educated and charming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the escorts she'd met that night was a
dark-haired handsome man by the name of Luigi. One thing let to another and
well, she did most definitely not end up hiding in the bathroom.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Holly cursed. “What about the whole stash of
condoms I placed in your purse? Didn’t you think of using them?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“I used condoms, I swear I did.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“How did you exactly use them, sweetheart?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“What do you mean how did I use them? How does one
use condoms? Are there several different ways of using them?” Annie asked, out
of breath, her tone of voice rising. She was freaking out. Big time. But all
and all she thought she was entitled to. “I certainly didn’t put them on my
head as new-age hats.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Did it break?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She shook her head. Of course it didn't. If it
would have, she would have gone to get the Morning after Pill and she wouldn't
be currently about to pass out.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sophie tried to calm her down. “Are you sure it’s
not a false alarm?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie shook her head. “No false alarm. Five
predictors and two blood tests confirm it. I’m pregnant up to my eyeballs,” she
said as she, very ineffectively, gave herself air with a napkin. Damn hot
flashes. For the past 2 weeks, she'd been having so many of those she'd even
considered going to the doc to make sure she hadn't entered some sort of freaky
early menopause. Talk about irony, uh?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“How did this happen?” Holly asked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“The usual way?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Not helping, sweetie." Holly chastised
Sophie with a look, and then turned to Annie. “If you used condoms, how did you
get pregnant?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">And here it was when it got embarrassing. “Well, it
seems there’s an infinitesimal chance of getting knocked up if you start
rolling the condom on, realize it’s inside out and then turn it the right way.
Drops of precum get onto the outside of the condom, and voilà, if the semen is
of quality and has great mobility, you’re in deep shit.” Annie looked at them,
fidgeting. “I was a bit nervous, and there wasn’t too much light…”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Man, she should have left the logistical details to
the pro.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">After all the head shaking she'd done when women in
her office got pregnant out of carelessness and look at her; knocked up on a
technicality.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sophie whistled. “Wow, some super-duper power sperm
those studs have, uh?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Tell me about it,” Annie mumbled. Well, at least
they could say for sure Tate and James's wedding cake hadn't been poisoned.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Could it be someone else’s?” Christy asked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s either Luigi’s or an immaculate conception.” </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The good thing about getting laid so seldom was
that she could pinpoint with 100% accuracy the conception date, which meant
that if her baby was as anal as she was, he or she should be born on the early
hours of the 6th of April.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Holly cleared her throat. “I hate to say this, honey,
and I know these guys are the best of the best, but did you get checked for
diseases?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, no STDs." That was what she'd done
first thing after she'd found out about her pregnancy. And hadn't that been
fun, explaining to Alden's only doctor, the same one that had treated her all her
life, why she needed testing for STDs right after he told her she was pregnant.
"All I got from the super stud is a baby.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Well, at least you had a valid excuse for
throwing up all over Max the other night," Christy mumbled.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Annie
cringed at the memory. So embarrassing. Talk about making an ass out of
herself. The most sought after bachelor in the whole state was being sweet and
offering her a way out so that she wouldn't have to go with Steven and what did
she do in exchange? She'd puked her brains out all over his shoes, messing his
pants with splatters too. Well, on the flip side, the second she'd started
throwing up her so attentive date had all but run in the opposite direction.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Max had been very nice and understanding though.
He'd even joked that if he would have been saddled with a date like Steven, he
would have been puking too.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Does Luigi know about any of this?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nope. And I never got a last name, so I don't know
how to contact him.” Or even if she wanted to.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Annie had
been high on the glamour of the night and she'd been dazzled by Luigi, who was
so not what she'd expected. He wasn't a young buff stud with more muscles than
brains. No, he'd been in his mid-late thirties, sophisticated, elegant and a
great conversationalist. She wasn't a knock-out, but she knew she was pretty
enough. And so far her body was holding its own against gravity and time, if
one could ignore the expansionist tendencies of her ass. Still, Luigi favoring
her company had kind of blown her mind and in between that and the alcohol, well
she'd just let go. In the morning though she'd panicked and much to her shame,
had run out on the guy before he even woke up, because how the hell was she
supposed to face the proverbial morning-after when you sleep with a
professional escort on his spare time? Well, at least she thought it was on his
spare time and for free, she wouldn't even dare considering he'd been working
and she'd skimmed him his fee. That was just too much. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"It seems Italian escorts are in fashion,
because apparently StudsRus.com have 46 Luigis on staff. I'm going to have to
ask them for pictures," Annie said. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">If the conversation at the doc had been fun, she
shuddered to think about the one with the stud agency receptionist.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She may never find Luigi again, and she couldn't
say she felt particularly sorry about it, after all, she didn't know the guy.
But again, a man had the right to know he was a father. Not to mention the
thought of raising a kid all by her own sucker punched her. Money was not an
issue; she had a good job, the shop was doing well, and she still had almost
untouched the trust fund her paternal grandparents had set for her. They hadn't
trusted her flimsy father and thank god they didn't, because the man was
already on his fifth bimbo wife, who was bleeding him dry like the others
before her.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">So financially she was covered, but there were more
things to consider when having a baby and raising it by herself. Some mornings
it took her forever to decide whether she wanted to have cornflakes or Honey
Puffs, how the hell was she going to choose a school for the kid? He or she
would be in junior high by the time she'd made up her mind.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You
know, I somehow envisioned differently embracing motherhood. Not at age 35,
without a partner, and knocked up by a gigolo that may or may not be called
Luigi." </span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">After all, maybe Luigi was just his stage name.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Well, it beats the hell out of a sperm bank,
which is what I can see in my future," Holly muttered.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">They were silent for a while, then Annie sighed.
“I’m so screwed, guys. I'm a forensic accountant. What do I know about
kids?"</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"Well, you own a candy store, I'd say you're
already ahead," Christy offered.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Well, there was that too.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">"I should have never gotten up on that flower
pot after you. You got the good stuff. I got... backlash."</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Annie covered her face with her hands. “This is so
unfair; you and Cole are the ones humping like rabbits all the time. Me? It was
just once. One little shag. Why me? The universe hates me.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Wait a second. What do you mean once only? Wasn’t he,
you know, up for a rematch?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“It was good, don’t misunderstand me, but let’s
just put it this way; it looks like when an over-priced European escort isn’t
working, he starts snoring after the deeds.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“Are you sure he was a member of Studs®us.com and
not some nutcase impersonating a stud, like in </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">True
Lies</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">?” Sophie asked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh crap, she hadn't thought of that possibility. Annie
panicked for a second, then shook her head. “No, can’t be. He knew everyone
there.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">True Lies</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">?” Holly asked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“You know, the waiter in that Arnie movie </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">True Lies</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">,
the one that got chicks by impersonating to be a spy?” Sophie explained.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Christy frowned. “A waiter? Wasn’t he a car
salesman? I–”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">“People, people. Concentrate,” Holly interrupted,
out of patience. "I told you to cut on the outdoor cinema." She
turned to Annie. “Are you going to keep it?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">She looked at her friends. “Forget the fact I'm 35
and my clock is ticking. What are the chances of getting pregnant like this?
One in a frigging billion. This baby hasn't been born yet and it's already a
damn superhero. Of course I’m keeping it.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> Copyright Elle Aycart 2013</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span>Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com55tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-48067567703862747942013-03-31T13:47:00.003-07:002013-04-01T06:14:57.779-07:00Win 3 copies of More Than Meets The Ink, Heavy Issues, or Inked Ever After<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <b>****** GIVEAWAY ******</b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNU_HWtGgFk6Uf28-3jUcWlu6UVeu5L5MmwbO4wVuvD1eN8NRBM4i4QpOqZuhNF-gpI4yMpk0XkVRm5KmOqJtwq9tHsi6OyGnxNSnFI-lWvEXKVDSk5tfDrGSdEVONQX0bD0vg4OFAPU/s1600/EA_InkedEverAfter_coversm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNU_HWtGgFk6Uf28-3jUcWlu6UVeu5L5MmwbO4wVuvD1eN8NRBM4i4QpOqZuhNF-gpI4yMpk0XkVRm5KmOqJtwq9tHsi6OyGnxNSnFI-lWvEXKVDSk5tfDrGSdEVONQX0bD0vg4OFAPU/s1600/EA_InkedEverAfter_coversm.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTUPjtsBGxveTKaHZgrvwtV-cnxQFehyBNKakNz4-05hefWhc4bhTldzfpB4Dpdlq41Nl1CKS_DuebJdFcTltq2T-QQy1LunIHECn8-VB-rmIbpFArx9o51Uu3oVefWXt9lfC8AXGfek/s1600/EA_MoreInk_coversm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTUPjtsBGxveTKaHZgrvwtV-cnxQFehyBNKakNz4-05hefWhc4bhTldzfpB4Dpdlq41Nl1CKS_DuebJdFcTltq2T-QQy1LunIHECn8-VB-rmIbpFArx9o51Uu3oVefWXt9lfC8AXGfek/s1600/EA_MoreInk_coversm.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-C-KDB7AFGfyu3UgrTRISc46WoMbDV4Jcudx6ugo0PCkEjukwZglBHcsNyQEn_UPTI229fJzotPViJdmiEPHG9u75fTOC0jiXE9zjU_RA3ENANUg9ySEeyHnkElPVOIYAQrMeLuk0v0/s1600/EA_HeavyIssues_coversm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-C-KDB7AFGfyu3UgrTRISc46WoMbDV4Jcudx6ugo0PCkEjukwZglBHcsNyQEn_UPTI229fJzotPViJdmiEPHG9u75fTOC0jiXE9zjU_RA3ENANUg9ySEeyHnkElPVOIYAQrMeLuk0v0/s1600/EA_HeavyIssues_coversm.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Hi everyone,<br />
To celebrate the release of the latest installment
of the Bowen series, I'm giving away three copies (MTMTI, HI, or IEA,
your choice) to three lucky winners. All you have to do is leave a
comment with your favorite quote from any of my books. The sentence that
stuck with you. The one that made you laugh like crazy. Or cry like
crazy. Or sweat like crazy ;-) Whatever you prefer.<br />
In a month 3 winners will be chosen among the participants.<br />
<br />
<br />Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-48995230137032630702013-03-28T17:01:00.001-07:002013-03-29T03:37:03.871-07:00Epilogue for Inked Ever After<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSJdHfj4SJL_efBXlUh8gWfFA4SVdnxDV6_Dpe73KTqu-cFZxxxKoTrXuXw2yqJuY1GezwWszBVXi8l_KWTh-yIMW4odu9XHgMEVAgbHtOx4CnvStx64QqQ_vauGOj6sGS2cTUNxyTi0/s1600/EA_InkedEverAfter_coverin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSJdHfj4SJL_efBXlUh8gWfFA4SVdnxDV6_Dpe73KTqu-cFZxxxKoTrXuXw2yqJuY1GezwWszBVXi8l_KWTh-yIMW4odu9XHgMEVAgbHtOx4CnvStx64QqQ_vauGOj6sGS2cTUNxyTi0/s320/EA_InkedEverAfter_coverin.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;"><b> Attention: Do not read if you haven't read Inked Ever After!! *****Contains major spoilers*****</b> </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;">Hi everyone, as promised, here you have the epilogue the publishers decided not to include in Inked Ever After. Their reasoning was sound; the book ended in such a high note, they didn't want anything after that.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;">I, however, decided to post it for whoever wants to read it. After all, Inked Ever After is the last book featuring James and Tate, and I think they deserve an epilogue. Enjoy!</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;">Just keep in mind this is a rough, unedited version.</span>
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;"><br /></span>
<br />
<h1 style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 18.0pt; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: ES;">Epilogue</span><span lang="EN-US"></span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Ten years later</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Cape John</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Tate stepped out to the porch, where
James was sitting watching the stars, a beer in his hand. As she’d been doing
for ten years, she climbed onto his lap and as James had done for ten years
too, he welcomed her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her temple.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Boys sleeping already?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She nodded. “They took forever to
settle tonight. Especially Kev.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“You’re tired, princess,” he said with
a frown, placing his hand on her bulging belly and gently caressing it. “I could
have taken care of getting them to bed. You didn't have to do it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She lifted her head and brushed her
lips with his. “I know, baby, but I wanted to. I missed them this afternoon.
Missed you too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James had spent the whole afternoon
with the boys, fishing. She would have loved to tag along, but she was getting
quite big and most days she needed a nap to keep up. Besides, fishing was
something James did with the boys. It was their thing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Tate had been sitting on the porch,
reading a book after cooking supper, when she’d heard her men coming.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James had been carrying five-year old
Kevin over his shoulders as if he were a sack of potatoes, their younger son
laughing and squirming while his older brother, Jonah, was walking along his
dad, carrying his own fishing gear, all grown-up looking, talking animatedly to
James. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Mom,” he’d called out, waving as
soon as he’d spotted her coming their way. “We caught some fish.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“I see, baby,” she'd answered,
reaching them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Me too. Me too,” Kevin had shouted
lifting his head and trying to turn to her. James’s wonderful hazel eyes stared
at her from their son’s face. And that roguish grin of her husband’s too. “I
caught one fish. The biggest of them all. Mega huge. Put me down, daddy. Down.
Down.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James had laughed. “All right, buddy.
Hold your horses.” Then, while lowering Kev to the ground, he'd turned to
Jonah. “You sure you didn't give him any sugar?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Swear, Dad. I gave him only five
M&Ms.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">By now Kevin was jumping up and down,
taking the bucket from his dad and yanking at Tate's hand, all at once. “Look,
mommy, look,” he’d insisted showing her their loot. “The big one is mine.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She'd kissed the top of his head. “I
see, baby. You did good. Are the rest yours?” she'd asked looking at their
oldest son.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Yes,” he'd answered, smiling. Jonah
was all Bowen too, from his blond hair to his facial features, except for his
pale blue eyes. Those were all hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
same his uncle Jonah had had. “Dad didn’t catch any. Again.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James had snorted, amused. “Yeah,
yeah. You guys claimed all my catches. Like always. Get going home. Wash and
get ready for supper,” he'd ordered before turning to Tate and gently pulling
her in for a kiss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She had been already in her tiptoes
leaning to him, her palm on his chest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“You’re caked in sand, honey,” she'd
said after kissing him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“No shit,” he’d chuckled, wrapping
his arm around her shoulder and bringing her deep into his side, caking her in
sand too. “Fishing with our sons is a damn messy business.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Yep. She’d seen them fishing plenty
of times. Kevin was a handful, running around and chattering nonstop, unable to
sit quiet for more than five minutes. Add to that five M&Ms and well, you
had a tornado in your hands. Jonah was more calmed, but still. They required a
lot of attention, which James gave gladly. Attention, time, love; James gave
all of that unconditionally. Every day. All the time. He was a wonderful
father. Jonah and Kev adored him, but he adored them even more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">And that extended to all the Bowen
men. Cole and Max were married, with kids of their own, but there wasn't a
hockey match, school play or any other significant event in Jonah's or Kevin's
lives that didn't have all the Bowen men attending. Hell, even for the
insignificant ones the whole Bowen clan got together. Which she totally loved.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Don't complain. You're the first one
that loves the fuss.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“True,” he'd assented, a slow smile
creeping across his face, the sea breeze ruffling that sexy shaggy hair of his.
"Just remind me to keep Kev away from Annie's candy shop. Five M&Ms,
princess, five. Our little man can't hold his sugar."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James had promised her to be the best
husband and the best father he could be, and damn if he hadn’t delivered. As
far as Tate was concerned, he was simply the best.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She stared at him as he took a sip of
his beer on the porch. James was now forty-four—turning forty-five in a couple
of months. He hadn't changed much; his body was as muscular and breathtaking as
always, but now he had some sexy wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and some
gray hair on his temples. He was more handsome than ever. Among other
additions, his back now sported two new tattoos; it was two small hands, prints
of Jonah’s and Kev’s hands at six months old. She loved all his ink, but those
handprints, and how proudly he wore them, were her favorites.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Many things had happened in these ten
years. There had been rough spots, but not even once had she had to doubt about
his love and commitment. Not even for a second. She’d seen him losing it only
once, right before Jonah’s birth, when he’d come home and found her bleeding in
the bathroom floor, almost unconscious. The only two times she’d seen him cry
had been in their boys’ births. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“They are excited about tomorrow,
that's why they took so long to settle tonight,” she said. “Everyone is going
to be at your dad's. We need to be early in Alden.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Ten years, princess,” he whispered
against her temple.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of
their wedding. Ten years. Which had passed in a flash. Up until now they'd
always celebrated alone, but this time Aunt Maggie had insisted in throwing
them a party.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She leaned her head on his shoulder
and, letting out a long sigh, looked up at the night sky. She loved it in Cape
John. Since James had bought this cabin, they'd spent all their summer vacations
here. No exceptions. The town was a very close-knitted community that, never
mind the vast amount of summer visitors, rarely let anyone in. Anyone but James,
of course. In a week the tattooed gangsta from out of town had had everyone in
his pocket. Even grandma Mendiola. Nowadays the Bowens had their own table in
Kamikaze. Jonah loved it there. Kevin wasn't too fond of sushi, but he loved
their famous Shin-chan roll, a concoction with mayonnaise and a sausage that would
make any self-respecting Japanese person cringe but had their son walking in
cloud nine. Max's little girls too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Do you remember what I accused you
of being the first time we met?” Tate asked into the night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“A cat kidnapper?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She let out a giggle. “No. I mean the
second time we met.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James pondered for a long second. “A
black hole wrapped up in frilly paper interested only in sucking good girls
in?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She turned to him, smiling. God that
memory of his. “Yes. How wrong was I, huh?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Well, I don’t know about the black
hole, but I do love sucking you,” he explained wiggling his eyebrows.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Tate broke into laughter. She still
wasn't sure how he did it, but James kept cracking her up. He had some
wrinkles, true, but so did she. Most of them were laugh lines caused mainly by
him. She relished every single one of them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“That’s right. And you excel at it,
baby.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">They’d been together for a bit over a
decade, they had two boys and a third baby on the way, and yet James was as
passionate as always. Even more. Sex, like wine, got better with age. Who would
have guessed. Now though, since the kids, more often than not she ended up with
her face buried in a pillow, muffling her screams. And having sex behind closed
doors. No need to send their sons to the shrink so early in their lives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“How many headaches do you think I
have given you since we met?” she asked in a whisper.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Mmmm, not sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me check my notebook.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Oh God. You keep track of those in a
notebook?” she asked horrified.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">His chuckle rumbled through her body.
“Of course not, princess. The only thing I keep track on is the mischief of our
two daredevils. When they become moody teenagers and accuse us of being unfair
dicks, I’m going to take out that damn notebook and show them how uneven the
scales are.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Tate laughed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“I hope this one is a girl, princess,”
he added. “We need some balance here. Someone that obeys me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She couldn't stop herself from snorting.
Jonah and Kevin adored their dad. Idolize him. And if this baby was a girl, she
was going to have her dad wrapped around her tiny little finger in no time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“And about the headaches, princess,
you’ve given me as many as I’ve given you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">In that he wasn’t wrong. James was
the love of her life, but it had to be recognized that he could do arrogant and
bossy with the very best. His barbarian side hadn't gotten domesticated. At
all. Not in the bedroom, not out of it. Case in point being this cabin; she'd
tried paying him back for half of it, but no dice. No matter how hard she'd
tried, or how sneaky she got, James hadn't accepted a cent. Two years ago, for
his birthday, she'd decided to buy him a new truck, the one he'd been talking
about getting for a while. James had hit the roof when he'd seen it. Well, he'd
fucked her senseless and then had hit the roof. He'd accepted the gift, but next
day she had the full price of the truck in her bank account. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Besides, when I woke up this morning
it wasn’t the headaches I remembered,” he continued, taking her out of her
thoughts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“No?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">He tipped her face up. Kissed her
softly on her lips. “No, baby. Not at all. I remembered you running down the
aisle and throwing yourself in my arms during our wedding, my tattoo on your
back in plain sight for everyone to see. I remember you kissing the living
lights out of me even before the priest got a word in. I remembered you giving
birth to our two sons. How you held Jonah for the first time, scared out of
your wits you were going to do something wrong. I remembered how whole and at
peace I feel when I’m deep inside you. How much I need you in my life. How I
can’t really breathe without you. How much I love you. You are my wicked pirate
princess, a thousand times more precious and beautiful to me now than ten years
ago. And let's get real; you were pretty stunning to begin with.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Thank you, love,” she said blinking
tears away. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But it's all you. You are the
one who have made these past ten years spectacular. I love you, James. And
there is no day that I don't thank God I have you in my life.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">He brought her to him and kissed her
long and deep. And like always, she melted. His smell, his taste, his touch, all
drew her in, and in no time she was drowning in him. Breathless, her hands in
his hair, holding him to her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“How tired is my princess?" he
whispered against her lips.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She smiled softly. “Not that tired,
baby.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She was never that tired. And much
less in her state, with all her hormones running wild.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Good,” he said brushing his knuckles
over her cheek. “You're so fucking beautiful.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She was well in her third trimester
and would have loved to straddle him properly, but her stomach was in the way. She
pouted. “Getting quite big, James.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“That's not true. I love making love
to you when you're pregnant, you know that, baby. I love how you wake up in the
middle of the night and reach for me, hot and needy. How you explode around me
the second I touch you. There is one thing I miss though; taking you with you
wrapped around me, your chest clued to mine, looking straight into your eyes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She smirked. “Getting tired of the
reverse cowgirl, I see.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">He barked out a laugh. “Never,
princess. You can ride me all you want.” He nibbled at her bottom lip, then
soothed it with his tongue, one hand wrapped around her neck, his thumb
caressing her jaw. “And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure the
cowgirl in question was on her hands and knees, in our bed, this morning. Moaning
into the pillow through her third orgasm.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She blushed at his words. Or maybe it
was his touch what was giving her hot flashes. The erection poking at her thigh
perhaps? In any case, she had to put on the breaks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Wait, baby. Before you scramble my
brains, I got something for you,” she said gently pulling back. She reached for
the table near by and handled him an envelope she had hidden there while they
had been fishing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">He raised his eyebrow. “I recall you
clearly saying no presents this year.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Sure she did. Every damn year for
their anniversary, and for all other special occasions, James came up with the
most amazing, thoughtful presents. So much so, that by their fourth anniversary
she was frigging self-conscious about giving him anything, because he would top
that, hands down. It didn’t matter how much money he spent; even the most
inexpensive gifts got her every time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Did you comply?” she asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James gave her a duh look, his snort
loud. “Of course not.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">As she’d figured. “So don’t complain
and open it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“What is it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She shrugged. “I thought you deserved
big compensation this year now that you won’t see me with the wedding dress. I
know how much you like me wearing it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She’d dyed the dress a darker beige,
shortened the train and transformed it into a sexy-like-hell nightgown that she
only and exclusively wore for their wedding anniversary. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">In their first anniversary she’d been
nursing Jonah, who had been born four months prior, and her rather small boobs
had been huge. As in 'hello, can't see my shoes when I look down'. He’d seen
her with the dress, and they hadn’t made it in time to the restaurant.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Almost like in their wedding, where
they made it to the reception, but barely.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“I love you wearing that dress,
princess. This year you’d be as gorgeous in it as always,” he said gently caressing
her bulging stomach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“I could model it for you before
going to bed tomorrow.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">His eyes flashed. “Deal.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">As he started opening the envelope, she
had a sudden case of jitters and stopped him. “Wait. What did you get me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">A devilish smirk spread on his face,
robbing her of breath. God that he was handsome. Ten years and she still got
butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her. “Not telling you yet.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Oh hell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Come on, just give me a hint; is it as
outrageous as that clone-a-dick thingy you got me for our first anniversary, or
are we talking about a romantic present like enlarging and framing that picture
of me nursing Kev while I was sitting on your lap and Jonah watched?” Because the
man was totally unpredictable, one never knew what he had in mind. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James smiled. “I thought the
clone-a-dick thing was very romantic, didn't you? Us naked, our hands and other
body parts covered in clay... That chick flick you made me watch a while back, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ghost</i>?" he shook his head. “They
got nothing on us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She burst out laughing. “Come on.
Just a hint,” she repeated when she was able to talk again. She waited for him
to say something, but soon it became apparent he had no intention to. “Okay,
whatever. I'll make sure we are alone when you give me your present. Just in
case,” she said as she motioned for him to proceed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">He opened the envelope and took the
tickets out. “Princess--”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“This is for you, baby. You’d wanted
to spend our honeymoon in a deserted beach, doing nothing but being lazy and
making love instead of traveling to </span><span lang="EN-US">Italy</span><span lang="EN-US">.
So, I got us a two-week trip to the Cook Islands. It’s not deserted, but quite.
The biggest of all the islands, Rarotonga, can be circled by scooter in twenty
minutes tops. I hear downtown consists of one street and rush hour is when two
cars stop in the only traffic light of the whole place.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Tate--”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Let me do this for you. Please,
James.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">He stared at her, love shinning
through hi eyes. “What about the boys, work, Rosita's?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She smirked. “I have everything
organized. My mother and Ron are coming from Florida to stay with the boys, and
you and I are leaving for the beach in two days.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Baby, you’re pregnant. Very
pregnant.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“That’s why it has to happen tomorrow.
In a bit over two weeks I’ll be eight months pregnant and the airline won’t let
me fly. I’ve already arranged it with Zack and Sean; you are off. They have
orders not to let you in the office after tomorrow, or call you. Or take your
calls. After the party at your parents’ place we will be spending the night in
a kick-ass hotel the name of which I’m not telling you. Suffice to say I
reserved the honeymoon suit. And asked them to make sure there's a swivel chair
in handy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">James chuckled softly. “Princess—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Shush. After the party I’m
kidnapping you. For two weeks the only thing in our agenda will be lay on the
beach and make love. And that is that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">A very male, very wicked grin
appeared on his face. He wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her to
him. “Bossy, Mrs. Bowen,” he whispered against her lips.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">She encircled him with her arms.
Kissed him. “Learned from the best, Mr. Bowen. From the very best.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Copyright © Elle Aycart 2013 </span></div>
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-34908270399307902352013-03-18T08:30:00.000-07:002013-03-18T08:30:16.935-07:00Excerpt from Inked Ever After<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBwdigwZ-I1h5osAuVBEmBVVP52sguEnlV5mcE89yLFjt4FyeBEgJEGaJGp3Aui3tqxeQpVQ1xXrcM5Yrn16L9ws6Z9ipUJpeCpQj0gm-RA6aOSmZuxXWA48UYdVwzeayWXLbY1oANLI/s1600/EA_InkedEverAfter_coverin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBwdigwZ-I1h5osAuVBEmBVVP52sguEnlV5mcE89yLFjt4FyeBEgJEGaJGp3Aui3tqxeQpVQ1xXrcM5Yrn16L9ws6Z9ipUJpeCpQj0gm-RA6aOSmZuxXWA48UYdVwzeayWXLbY1oANLI/s320/EA_InkedEverAfter_coverin.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
“Princess—”<br /><br />Not knowing what to do, Tate covered his eyes with
her hands and went for a chirpy tone she hoped didn’t sound fake.
“James, you shouldn’t see the dress. It’s bad luck.”<br /><br />“Not watching
the dress, baby.” He moved her hands away and held her gaze for the
longest time. She tried ducking to escape his scrutiny, but he tipped
her head back with a finger on her chin and forced her to withstand it.<br /><br />She offered him a tight smile, biting her lip so it wouldn’t tremble, and braced herself for the interrogation.<br /><br />But it didn’t come.<br /><br />His jaw clenched several times. “Doing wedding stuff this morning?” he asked, his gaze lowering to her necklace.<br /><br />She nodded.<br /><br />Then he just asked, “You all right?”<br /><br />She plastered a smile on her face. “Of course.”<br /><br />“Of course,” he repeated slowly, his expression tight. “And that?” he asked, motioning at her with his chin.<br /><br />“This? It’s nothing. I just got something in my eye. My eyes, actually,” she corrected.<br /><br />His face got harsher. He took a step closer to her, and she heard her dress getting ruffled.<br /><br />“Baby,
the dress!” She was far more worried about keeping up the charade than
the fate of the dress. Not that a size-ten footprint on the cloth was
going to be easy to explain.<br /><br />“I don’t give a shit about the damn dress,” he growled, his savage tone dripping with disapproval and impatience.<br /><br />“Please, James.”<br /><br />He
stared at her. He must have seen the look of desperation in her eyes,
the one she was fighting so hard to hide, for he let out a long sigh.
“Fine. Hop up, princess,” he said encircling her waist and lifting her.
Before he could move her aside, she wrapped her legs around his hips and
threw her arms around his neck.<br /><br />James cursed, tightening his hold on her.<br /><br />“Baby.”<br /><br />With
her still in his arms, he reached for the dress and, without looking at
it, tossed it out of the way to the corner where all her clothes lay.<br /><br />She
stayed like this for a long while, hugging him tight, her face nestled
in the crook of his neck, soaking in his warmth and his strength. Being
able to breathe again. She could feel his erection, thick and hard,
against her core, but his touch was not sexual. He held her gently,
protectively, one hand open and cupping the back of her head, the other
one splayed on her back.<br /><br />God, she loved this man so much. His
mere presence infused her with fortitude. With him around she felt
cherished and protected beyond anything she’d experienced before.<br /><br />“I love you,” she whispered.<br /><br />“Tate,” he said against her hair. “Look up.”<br /><br />She didn’t move.<br /><br />“Not too fond of repeating myself, baby.”<br /><br />She
lifted her head. His face was carved in tight lines, but his eyes were
gentle. And damn compelling. He curled his hand around her neck and
brushed her lips with his thumb.<br /><br />“You need to stop hiding and give me your mouth.”<br /><br />She
did. Soft, tender kisses and deep, hard ones, until she was boneless
and dazzled and her mind was full of only him. As she opened her eyes,
she stole a glance of them in the mirror, and her breath froze in her
lungs. What a view—him with his black T-shirt, his faded jeans, and
those sexy cowboy boots, standing tall and solid, his broad shoulders
taking more than his fair share of the room, and her in pearls, fuck-me
heels, and satin lingerie all wrapped around him.<br /><br />“I look good on you,” she whispered.<br /><br />He
caught her eyes in the mirror and then turned to her, a devilish smile
on his face. “Yes, you do. Not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you
wearing a bra?”<br /><br />“It looks like the wedding dress I’m getting doesn’t allow for a bra.”<br /><br />He grimaced. “Elle’s idea, right? Maybe I should have paid more attention to the dress.”<br /><br />“Maybe you should have.”<br /><br />He slid his hand to the lace at the top of her stockings and her garter belt.<br /><br />“Love the white, virginal underwear.”<br /><br />“Good. I’ll be sure to wear it for the wedding. Although I’m not sure the dress allows for panties either.”<br /><br />“Fuck,
baby,” he cursed in a low growl, leaning his forehead on hers. “You
come to our wedding without a bra and without panties, and I can assure
you we won’t make it to the reception. Hell, we’ll be lucky if I’m not
inside you the second you say yes.”<br /><br />Of that, she had no doubt whatsoever. “Duly noted, honey.”<br /><br />“If
you’re taking requests, then this hairdo needs to go,” he added,
grabbing the loose knot at the back of her head and unraveling it. “I
want this gorgeous hair of yours flowing around you as you walk down the
aisle to me.”Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953326570353653701.post-18408649325045899892013-02-14T08:39:00.001-08:002013-02-14T08:41:01.068-08:00Happy Valentine's Day from the Bowen brothers<br />
“Valentine’s
Day is around the corner,” Max said after taking a slug of his beer.
“What do you think is the bullet-proof way to go; taking the romantic
sensitive route or banging your woman’s brains out until she can’t walk
straight?”<br />
James turned to him. Cole too.<br />
“I didn’t know
these were mutually exclusive,” James said. “I’d say start with the
first; then move fast to the second. Why? You need tips?”<br />
That would be the day their slut of a brother would need tips for impressing a woman.<br />
“Nope.
I ask because we need to help this bozo out,” Max said pointing at
Cole. “It’s his first Valentine’s Day. He’s bound to fuck it up in record
time. It took him 37 years to find a woman who could put up with his
sorry ass. We can’t let him mess it up all now. We need to make
sure he has a bullet-proof plan.”<br />
“That’s right,” James said, clapping his older brother’s back. “You’re a Valentine’s Day virgin, aren’t you?”<br />
“You can call it that,” he muttered.<br />
And
wasn’t that the mother of all understatements. Before falling for
Christy, Cole wouldn’t fuck the same woman two nights in a row, much
less make it to any anniversaries or marked dates. No Christmases, no
birthdays, no anything with them. Hell, James wasn’t sure Cole even
talked to them before or after fucking them senseless. Now though he had
a fiancé he was crazy about. And he found himself muddling his way
through a world of tricky traditions and painful firsts.<br />
“Finally
someone is going to pop his Valentine’s Day cherry, can you believe
it?” Max said. “The damn thing must be petrified by now though, Christy
better get herself a hammer.”<br />
“Smart ass,” Cole growled. “Don’t need your bullet-proof plans. I can keep my own woman without your help.”<br />
“Sure you can keep your own woman. Tied to the bed you can.”<br />
Cole’s growl got louder; Max’s grin got bigger.<br />
“Just saying, man.” He lifted his hands in mocked surrender. “You need to mix it up a bit.”<br />
“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I do mix it up.”<br />
“Don’t tell me Christy got her own whip now.”<br />
James
chuckled. Man, seeing Max poke at Cole never got old. They were so
different, but really, when shit hit the fan they were so fucking
similar. Dependable, loyal men he was proud to call his brothers.<br />
Cole’s
glare left no doubt what he thought about the whip crack. Yeah, he
might be mellower, but just marginally. Very marginally.<br />
“Do your face a favor and harass the married man here,” Cole said.<br />
Max
just laughed and turned to James. “What are you getting for Tate? This
is your first Valentine’s Day as a married man, whatever you do, it will
set precedent.”<br />
“Well, you know those mold-a-dick thingies? I’m getting one for her.”<br />
Both his brothers all but choked and spewed their beers in the process.<br />
“What??”<br />
“Kidding,”
James laughed. “Although I’m reserving that one for our wedding
anniversary.” Among other presents, that is. He wasn’t totally insane.<br />
Max
barked a laugh. “Man, if you mold your dick and give it to your wife as
a present on Valentine’s Day, or any other important date for that
matter, she will take the cast and beat the shit out of you with it.”<br />
Well,
maybe yes, maybe no. He’d take his chances. Doubtfully she’d be capable
of too big a damage after he’d make her come all night long with his
mouth and dick. Or ‘dicks’ he should say. And never mind how over the
top his macho tripping, Tate always went along with it with a smile on
her lips.<br />
“And you guys think I’m the one in need of help? Please,” Cole snorted, but Max ignored him.<br />
“What is it, James; are you jealous of your woman’s toys now so you need to clone yourself?”<br />
“Nope. Jut mixing it up,” James said with a grin.<br />
He
wasn’t jealous of Tate’s toys. Since Elle organized for her that
Pleasure Party and his woman came home with a basket full of them, she’d
let him use them on her often enough, but well, there were things only
two cocks could accomplish. There was no way in hell any other man was
getting close to Tate, so yeah, welcome mold-a-dick. Not that he was
going to say a word. Whatever Tate and he did behind closed doors – or
wherever the mood struck as long as nobody saw – was none of their
business.<br />
Max shook his head. “Man you are both kinky fuckers.”<br />
Cole and James snorted. Sure, like Max was Mother frigging Theresa.<br />
“So what about your Valentine’s?<br />
Max
was looking intently at James so he gave up. “Okay, I’m pulling all the
stops, you happy? Romantic supper, a show downtown and then I’m
bringing her back here, lay her on the grass in the backyard and try
pointing to her the star I got named after her.”<br />
“That’s a married man for you,” Max said to Cole. “Live and learn. Totally pussy-whipped.”<br />
He’d
known he was going to get his ass busted if his brothers found out
about this, but honestly? He didn’t give a shit. Tate was going to love
it, and that was all that mattered.<br />
“You got a star named after her? What did you call it; Tate 347?”<br />
“Not exactly, no,” James said.<br />
“So what’s the name?” Cole prompted.<br />
“Not telling.”<br />
Max
lifted his brows. “Come one, you told us how you plan to give your wife
a mold-a-dick, but you won’t tell us how you named her star?”<br />
He nodded. “Exactly.”<br />
He
wasn’t explaining to them where the name Pirate Princess came from. No
fucking way was he discussing his wife’s pierced pussy with his
brothers.<br />
“Well, you got the romantic route down pat, that’s for sure. What else are you doing; spreading rose petals on the sheets?”<br />
“I don’t think we’ll make it to the bed.”<br />
He
knew his woman. And himself. It was going to be a frigging miracle if
they made it back inside the house before he fucked her senseless in the
yard.<br />
Max seemed to read his mind.<br />
“You’re going the
romantic route and banging her brains out too. Clever, my man. I hope
Mrs. Ramsden’s hearing device will be low on batteries that night.”<br />
James
too. As a matter of fact he was going to personally make those
batteries disappear. And hide her binoculars. Just to be on the safe
side.<br />
“What about you?” James asked turning to Cole. “You said you need no help. What have you got planned for Christy?”<br />
“I’ve got to tell you, the mold-a-dick idea sounds good.”<br />
Max
shook his head in dismay. “Man, she’s agreed to marry you, but you
haven’t closed the deal yet. James may get away with it, you won’t. He’s
after all, officially a husband. Women take a lot of shit from their
husbands. Not so much for their fiances. I suggest you get Christy jewelry. The more expensive the
better.”<br />
“Nah, my woman is a geek. Jewelry doesn’t work with her.”<br />
Cole
had messed up a couple of times in these past six months with Christy.
Thank God she loved him, because his bro sure was a stubborn
son-of-a-bitch. Still, one couldn’t be without commiserating with the
guy; he’d learned the hard way that buying her off with expensive shit
didn’t work with Christy. Opening up did.<br />
“I’m flying her down to Vegas,” he said.<br />
“You what?”<br />
Cole
let out a slow breath, ran his hand through his hair. “They are hosting
some freaky Star Trek convention, you know, celebrating the pre-view of
the second new Start Trek movie. I’ve been hearing Christy talk about
it for a fucking month already. All her geek friends from LA are going,
so I’m taking her.”<br />
James looked at Cole, then at his brother Max and exploded into laughter. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”<br />
“Nope.”<br />
James
tried to sober up, but failed miserably. “I don’t know what worries me
more; that you are going to a Star Trek convention, or that you know the
second Star Trek movie is being pre-viewed.”<br />
“Tell me about it.
Even Klingon doesn’t sound so weird to me any more. Sick, really,” Cole
muttered. “Anyhow, I’ve got us a room at the Venetian. I’m hoping to
keep her entertained enough that she’d prefer staying in it with me than
going out.”<br />
“So you plan to fuck her into submission. Or into exhaustion, whatever comes first, uh?”<br />
“Damn right. Do you have a problem with it?”<br />
“Nope,” James chuckled. “Great plan. Tried it a time or two myself.”<br />
“Rate of success?” His marine brother asked matter-of-factly.<br />
“Not
that high I’m afraid.” He’d managed to fuck Tate into exhaustion many
times, true, but fucking her into submission hadn’t worked yet, not in
any lasting form.<br />
If his older brother didn’t want Christy out of
that hotel room, he could easily keep her in, but Christy wasn’t
without talents of her own. And she didn’t need a whip for that. All she
had to do was smile. He’d seen it.<br />
Cole muttered something under
his breath. “If it can’t be helped, I’ll go with her to the convention,
but I’m drawing the line at dressing up.”<br />
Silence. Then Max
cleared his throat. “I heard they opened a sci-fi sex club in Vegas, you
know, for those who like their sex… theme oriented. Maybe you can go
there with her,” Max said, his shoulders shaking from laughter.<br />
Cole’s glare was murderous. “Not fucking dressing up.”<br />
“Aww,
come on. Rent the vulcan outfit. Just in case,” Max said. “For the sake
of bullet proofing the whole thing. I could download you some info on
Vulcan nueropressure massages. You know, to keep it real.”<br />
“Neuropressure massages?” James managed to get out in between laughs.<br />
Max waived at him. “Not clear on it. Something to do with their pointy ears, I think.”<br />
As
James and Max laughed their asses off, Christy and Tate came back from
the house. James grabbed Tate and settled her on his lap, wrapping
himself around her and breathing her in. She fitted perfectly in his
arms, as if she were made to be there. She turned to him and kissed him,
her eyes full of tenderness. Fuck, how did he get so damn lucky?<br />
Christy encircled her arms around Cole from behind and kissed his jaw. “What were these two laughing about?”<br />
“Nothing,” his older brother grumbled. “Just setting some things straight.”<br />
“Your kick-ass phone’s got that super-mega-pixel camera, right?” Max asked turning to her.<br />
“Sure. Why?”<br />
“Just
don’t go anywhere without it this week. Promise. We want full coverage.
Anything that strikes you as… unusual, please take a pic.”<br />
Max
didn’t really have to insist. Christy went nowhere without her eGizmos.
Not that there was a snowball's chance in hell Cole would ever dress up,
no, but getting to see pictures of him surrounded by sci-fi geeks was
going to be fucking memorable. Max was probably going to frame the pics.
He may too.<br />
“And you,” he said to Tate, his face splitting in a
devilish smirk. “I hope your molding skills are up to date. Because
really, some things, when broken, are impossible to repair, never mind
how much clay you put on it.”<br />
“What are you talking about?” Tate asked, intrigued.<br />
“Nothing,” James and Cole all but barked at the same time while trying to smack their little brother.<br />
“We’re trying to figure women out,” he explained. “What, in your opinion, would be the best Valentine’s Day present ever?”<br />
“We’re easy to please, any small detail will do,” Tate said.<br />
The collective male snort was loud.<br />
“It’s true,” Christy added coming out in her defence.<br />
“Yeah
right. Any small detail will do, my ass,” Max began. “Let’s put it this
way: what do my poor bros have to do for Valentine’s Day so that their
Steak and BJ Day in a month will be memorable and won’t degrade into a
handy and a hamburger?”<br />
“Max,” James growled, but Tate and Christy didn’t take offence; as a matter of fact they were laughing.<br />
“Like you’d have a complaint about it,” Tate whispered to him.<br />
James
cupped her neck and kissed her. No, he had no complaints whatsoever
about their last 14th of March. He got a big juicy steak, served by a
naked Tate, with two small red bows on her nipples and one slightly
bigger on her waxed pussy. Then he got a big, juicy… yeah, well. No
complaints whatsoever. And the best part? He didn’t get it only on March
14th.<br />
“Steak and BJ day?” Cole asked, seemingly confused.<br />
Christy whispered something in his ear. His eyes flashed.<br />
“We are so going for that tradition,” he said.<br />
Max’s smirk was blinding. “Another cherry for Christy to pop, uh?”<br />
“You better shut up,” Cole snarled. “Or it’ll be me smashing your fucking cherries.”<br />
Max laughed. “Sorry, man. You’re too late. Got no cherries left to smash.”<br />
<br />
© Elle Aycart, December 2013<br />
All Rights Reserved
Elle Aycarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00499900233357519771noreply@blogger.com10